#i love this man so much. he took me grocery shopping and obsession hit me like a freight train

[psychezenobia]

sketched my sleep deprived malewife<3

[blueberryarchive]

Peaches and Cream. (Pt.1)

In which Jungkook, a one-star Michelin chef, gets the information: a new blogger, you, gave him a bad review of his restaurant, and he gets obsessed with the things you wrote; and in the process, with you. Wanting to show you he's a good chef, he invites you to a good meal cooked by him.

—⁠☆Pairing: Bi Chef!Jungkook & Blogger!Reader

—⁠☆Genre: au, enemies to lovers.

—⁠☆Word Count: 4.3k

—⁠☆Warnings: filthy mouth Jungkook, like so much for no reason. smut, two doms trying to dom each other, stalking, dub-con, masturbation, prejudice/bigotry, depictions of queerness and family. (these are the warnings for the whole two-part series)

—⁠☆a/n: this the first part of a 2 part ff, i hope you gals can help me get better at writing in english since it's not my first language. as always thank you for reading.

The morning painted the windows of his office with a slight dew, the clouds announced how gray that Friday would be. Every time it rained it wasn't busy in the restaurant, but Jungkook appreciated the sweet aroma the concrete emanated in the alleys. 

The smell of the city of rotting garbage and asphalt goes to give way to childhood memories of him. Running home, jumping through long puddles, the taste of freshly cooked rice. Mild and fluffy in the mouth. 

Jungkook dropped his cigarette halfway to the ground as a van turned the corner. Grocery shopping was one of the favorite parts of his job. Maybe the best. At 4 in the morning, he would open the back doors of his restaurant, clean and file his knives, which he kept wrapped in cotton cloth that his grandmother sewed for him with his initials. In a rather old mocha pot, he used to put three spoons of freshly ground coffee and water and stayed waiting for the men from the market, who came to bring him the freshest products for that day's dishes. Cup of coffee in hand and a lot to say.

He loved to touch, press, smell, taste and pinch the vegetables; pick them up on the light and complain that the salmon was from yesterday and the courgettes were too big. Loved to bargain with Tomas the price of trivial things. 

"Tom, don't be a bitch. I'll have to throw away half of these tomatoes before four o'clock." 

"Jung-" Tomas, a Hispanic man with the face of that painting from Alexandre Cabanel, inhaled sharply, placing two fingers on the bridge of his nose. He didn't know what Tomas was saying in Spanish, but Jungkook knew, somehow, that it involved fucking his mother. 

"You take the two boxes and the Montserrat." Tomas repeated.

"Tom, what am I going to do with shit as acid as Montserrat tomatoes. Green ones." Jungkook yelled, almost spitting out his coffee, taking a healthy tomato in his hand. 

"Shove it up your ass." Tomas shrugged casually. Jungkook hit him on the shoulder, and both laughed. 

"Okay, give me both. Maybe Vic will think of making something with your fucking tomatoes..." the imaginary disgust on his palate at the thought of a Montserrat tomato sauce or a salad. Worse: fried. 

Tomas knew that silence and the lost look of Jungkook's idiot fuckface. "You can't change your mind anymore, chef. I already had my boys put the boxes down." 

"I know. I'm just regretting letting you win." 

Tomas clicked his tongue, revealing a perfect smile to the ched. "Sometimes you have to let it go, chef." 

"Go away, motherfucker." Jungkook smiled, still looking at the boxes of green tomatoes. 

"Bye, Chef." 

"Mmm," Jungkook took the last sip of his coffee as the truck pulled away. Now it was time to lift the boxes. That kept Jungkook's arms in good shape. He rolled up his baggy shirt to reveal his colorful tattooed arm. Smoothly tying his wavy hair in a low ponytail. With one arm, he lifted the sack of rice to the kitchen island, then the oysters, then the crate of vegetables. 

With precision and finesse, he grasped the knife with the curved edge from his collection and began to peel each vegetable. Everything was with the accuracy of a surgeon. 

If lifting sacks was his daily exercise, cutting and peeling the preparatives was his meditation. With so much attentiveness to his peeling, he almost cut himself when he heard his cell phone vibrate. He growled and cursed in a breath. He hated getting called on the phone. If it weren't for his mom, he would have thrown away that piece of plastic years ago. 

Vic, the screen said, the face of a curly-haired man in a perfect afro, teeth so perfect as he smiled into the camera. Jungkook took that photo about a year ago, just outside his favorite café. He had months without buying a cup of coffee there.

With his knuckles, he opened the call. "I thought you were coming over to help me with the oysters, Vic," he demanded with a frown concentrating on peeling the shiitake mushrooms until soft and white. 

Vic didn't answer until after a lengthy silence. Pretty long, considering he had just finished peeling a couple of mushrooms. Jungkook looked at his cell phone. "Victor?" 

"Here I am," he replied reluctantly. 

"Why the hell are you calling me if you aren't going to talk? I'm busy." 

"I thought, when I met you, that you cuss so much and act like a piece of shit because you wanted to be like Gordon Ramsay or something." 

"What's the point, Vic? The oysters are still here unopened, and Helena doesn't come in until six, and I-" 

"You're busy." They both spoke in unison. That made Jungkook feel a sting in his throat, a slight tickle. 

"Are you going to come, yes or no?" 

"My God, Jeon, just for a moment, stop thinking about the damn oysters and pay attention to me." 

"I do, Victor, and you still don't answer my damn question. Do I have to pick up a fucking bum off the streets to do your job?" 

"Why did you come to my house on Tuesday?" Jungkook stopped the fluid movements of the knife, his eyes on the phone. 

"You wrote me to go," the chef replied.

"Yes, but for you to pick up your things." 

"I did that." Jungkook snorted, finishing with the mushrooms and starting with the carrots. 

"Yeah, after fucking me and telling me you loved me... like twice in the process." Vic sounded hurt. Jungkook hated it when he did that because he knew how dramatic Vic could be. 

"And after that, you kept treating me as your sous-chef the next day."

"You are my sous-chef, Victor." He interrupted, leaning on the metal table.

"Yeah, but I'm talking like outside of work."

"Yes, because you're still my sous-chef, Victor. I don't get-"

"Do you do this to Marianne? Or Helena, Joseph, or every waiter with an innocent little face when you tell them they're your favorite." 

"Vic," warned the chef. 

"Or maybe you were in a year-long relationship with your maitre d' so he wouldn't fire you. No, that was me. If it weren't for me, that place wouldn't have the popularity it has" 

"Vic," Jungkook growled, feeling the blood rush to his head. 

"You are a pest to your restaurant, Jeon Jungkook." 

That was it. Jungkook dropped the knife on the table and gripped the device as close to his mouth, thin lips brushing the screen. 

"Victor, if you hadn't opened your legs to me, you wouldn't even have the chance to lick the leftovers from my alley." 

"Bullshit, if I'm the whore, what makes you?. Who did you have to fuck for your place, chef?" 

"Everyone." Jungkook laughed sarcastically, "And yet, I'm the one who has a fucking Michelin star under my name and my sweat... what have you done with the fucks on your record?" 

Victor was silent. "You are a prick." 

"Okay" Jungkook didn't understand where this was going, but it was almost six in the morning, and he had to start removing the skin from the salmon. His walking around the station didn't keep him calm, nor it was productive. 

"I don't know why I let you into my house." 

"You were alone, just like I felt that day too. And you also act like it doesn't turn you on when I drunk fuck you." Jungkook waited for an answer, but there was nothing. "Vic?" Silence. When he saw the screen of his cell phone, there was no longer the photo of Victor or the creaking of the telephone line. "Vic, the oysters" He didn't even know why he was trying, he closed his eyes and put the cell phone in his pocket. 

The door opened suddenly, startling Jeon. It was Helena, a curvy thirty-something girl taking a last puff from her vape. With a rush, she put her hair in a high ponytail. 

Jungkook tried to act as naturally as possible. 

"Good morning, chef." Helena hastened to say, putting on her apron. 

"Mm," he muttered as he followed his work, musing among the damn green tomatoes that he had no idea what Vic asked them for.

A long time passed while both, Jungkook and Helena, worked at their stations. 

"Chef," Helena broke the silence by pressing her lips together. 

"Yeah?" 

"I'm trying to make a list for my future...you know I want to open my place one day." 

"Everyone wants their own little place," Jungkook interrupted, opening the oysters with swift movements. 

"Yes, yes. But I really don't like getting fucked in the ass, and it's not that there are a lot of women in this business, much less lesbians." She burst. Jungkook grinned against his own will when she wasn't looking. 

"Fuck you, Helena. Cut the mangoes for the sauce." Jungkook hissed, and set the oysters aside as Helena laughed at him. "I'm going to the market for more onions and tell Joseph to finish the oysters by himself" 

"Yes, Chef." voiced Helena with a grand smile.

Jungkook left the station, the cold air soothing the remains of his anger. Without thinking much, he reached into his pocket taking out a cigarette.

He started walking through the streets of New York. Vic had worn him out, and his 14-hour shift hadn't started.

The steam rising from meats, the incessant sound of vegetables being cut, three different sauces being stirred. Jungkook's kitchen was alive, it was seven at night and this was the time when his guests arrived like flies on the cake. Men in Italian brand suits and their girlfriends of the week, older women with picky palates, fanatics, high-class tourists…you name it, you find it.

Normally, Jungkook would be in the front. Preparing each dish, tasting each sauce, checking each cut, and scrutinizing that each dish looks like something he is proud of.

But here he was, in the dark alley behind his restaurant as he called Vic over and over on the phone, the cigarette in his hand melting with the wind and light drizzle. His hair and his white suit getting wet as he left the umpteenth voice note for Vic.

"Victor, for God's sake, I have the restaurant full tonight. It's a fucking Friday, why the fuck aren't you here?" he breathed sharply, the tension had his shoulders tense and the veins in his arms looked like they were going to explode.

The messages did not reach him, the wretch had turned off the phone.

"Shit," he muttered as he thumped into the kitchen that blazed with the heat of thirty pots on the stove. What happened after going through the door seemed…uncanny. All of his cooks looked at him at the same time, fleetingly to return to their tasks again.

They knew something that Jungkook didn't.

He sighed deeply before tying his hair into a half-bun. He rolled up his sleeves and went to his station, reading the orders aloud.

"One duck, two mussels, one Bok Choy" Jungkook ordered.

"Yes, chef," the others said in unison.

Food was piling up around Jungkook, sauces, and stir-fried vegetables. With a spoon he tasted the first and nodded slightly, then the shiitake. With agility he grabbed an empty plate and began to order each detail: first, the sauce spread like a brush, the green color so bright; then the piece of meat, glistening with juice, three drops of yellow radish sauce, a delicate yellow flower for the final touch.

"Service!" Jungkook pushed the plate away towards the waitress on the other side of his table.

"Fuck," Joseph muttered in the kitchen.

"Stop being an imbecile and attend your damn station," Charlie, the poissonier, snarled, hurling a frying pan into the sink with a crash.

"Where are my mussels?" Jungkook was sweating, his eye trembled slightly.

"Joseph just screwed them up, I have to do them again"

"And what are you doing wasting time talking?" Jeon interrupted on the verge of screaming. The others tensed, again that look from everyone.

"Sorry, Chef" said Joseph and Charlie.

"Hurry up, damn." Jungkook continued with his task of plating each meal, tasting over and over again everything that was within his reach.

"Where is my sauce?" he growled when his hand reached to his right, and Helena nor the sauce wasn't there. 

"In a minute, sir." 

"I don't have a minute."

Helena took the pan and stirred while going to the prep station. Jungkook took a small spoon and tasted it.

"More salt," he said, furrowing his eyebrows.

Helena seemed confused. "More, Chef?"

"Don't make me repeat myself, dear." 

"Yes, chef." Helena went back and added more salt, a few seconds later, he was pouring the sauce into the mushrooms. 

"Service!" the waiter took the plate, he started to feel a pain in his lower back and was exhausted. "Helena," he called, continuing his job. 

"Chef."

"Call Vic, tell him that if he isn't here in twenty minutes, I'll fire him."

There was no 'yes, chef', no answer at all. Actually, it was a little quieter in the kitchen. He didn't look back. "I said-"

"I don't think you want that, chef." This time, he turned around, and there it was: the look.

"When I say something, misses Gallo, I mean it" he felt more intense than usual if, that's even possible. Helena felt like she just saw a ghost. Jungkook knew she joked around with him, but she knew her time and place.

"Vic it's not coming back, sir." The youngest, Joseph, tilts his head down in fear. 

"Why is that?"

"God, how I abhor when things like these happen." The elegant man entered the kitchen with his sleek blonde hair and a black suit, calico eyes, and the most pretentious-looking glasses you could find. It was Jimin Park, his maitre d'. 

Jimin was the one who gave the classiness Jungkook lacked when it came to treating his clientele. He greeted and took care of everyone like they were his friends. 

"She's here." 

"Who?" Jungkook couldn't be more out. Jimin gave him his phone, and on the screen was a girl eating a plate exactly like the one he made minutes ago. Wait, that was his restaurant. 

"Oh my God, she's actually here. I didn't know Vic was such a petty bitch." Helena laughed while watching the live stream. Jungkook turned off the screen. 

"What the fuck is going on?"

"Vic tweeted to her to come here because his ex fired him for being a good cook, something like that." Jimin shrugged. Jungkook felt his chest contract, he started biting the ring on his lower lip.

"Who is she?" 

"She's a mukbanger but like a mean one, she's an icon," Joseph said smiling. 

"She's like the new wave of food criticism." Jimin took his phone and put it in his pocket. "Our world doesn't care anymore about magazines or what the paper says."

A waitress came bursting from the door.

"Mr. Park, the girl went away." 

"Am I supposed to be scared because she's going to tweet about some overcooked lamb?" he asked the waitress who didn't know what to say. 

"She's gone?" Jimin raised his glasses taking a deep sigh, he looked at Jungkook and lightly smiled. "You're fucked, Jeon." 

"Fuck you, Park. No, I'm not" he was offended, how could he say that in front of his group?

Jungkook took Jimin by his forearm and took him to his office. The others were left watching through the little window looking for the infamous mukbanger.

For a second, Jungkook was going to look back and ask his sous chef to take care of the kitchen. But he didn't have a fucking sous-chef. 

This couldn't be possible, he had a Michelin star because of his discipline, the way he cooked, his crew, and the stories he told through the food. He had the perfect ambiance, the most amazing maitre d' in New York, and the perfect culinary experience. He worked his ass off for this.

He was above the trolly reviews from Yelp, the people who thought he just did something to fill stomachs. But why did he feel this was not the same? Why did she leave? He made sure everything was perfect. Everything. 

"Hey!" Jimin snapped his fingers in Jungkook's face. For a moment, he put his palm on Jungkook's forehead. 

"Jesus, you're burning" he saw the expression on his chef, with his eyebrow rose, the pierced end moving slightly. Lost in thought. 

"Do you really think this is going to ruin me?"

Jimin's heart felt heavy, he denied occupying his hands with some papers. 

"I don't know, Kook. Perhaps she went away because she didn't find anything bad to say, or maybe she had to go and that's it. You know how those people are."

Jungkook nodded, none of them were sure that Jimin said the truth. But it had to do for now. 

"Now go, the kitchen will be a mess without you."

It's already a mess.

Jungkook nodded again, hands behind his back. He needed to know who you were. As soon as possible.

Jungkook doesn't remember the last time he sat on the couch in his apartment, his legs were covered with two sheets and he had a black hoodie covering his chest and lanky hair. He doesn't remember how strange morning TV was: everyone was wearing makeup and smiling as they talked about how climate change was inundating homes in India. It couldn't be more bizarre. Maybe it was the fever that had him glued to the screen in front of him or the ache in his tired muscles. 

The icing on the cake, he was sick. 

The night of the influencer's drama, Jungkook came to his room. His hair was wet from the rain that fell that night and his body soaked. His body sank into the sheets with his uniform, the fever began to make him have strange dreams where orders came but never came out. He woke up around four in the morning the next day and called Jimin, his voice raspy as he changed out of his uniform.

"Call Jin, tell him to cover me this week."

"Okay," Jimin replied with a breath.

"Okay? No questions?"

"No, I already knew you were going to get sick." Jungkook pursed his lips into a small smile, eyes closed from exhaustion.

"As soon as the fever stops, you won't need Jin. I promise."

"As much as I want that to be true, I don't want you in the restaurant until you're completely well. It's enough for the restaurant that a cute girl says absurd things about your food and then we get rumors about you cooking with your boogers" Jimin blurted out.

"Absurd?" Jungkook looked for some boxers and changed, throwing his body on the living room furniture. "What did she write?"

"Um...," Jimin put the chef on hold as he thought of an honest but not unseemly way to tell him the review. "Well, she said she was sick of seeing the same wave of elite restaurants for the decadent new yorker elite, the same exotic cuts of a bird, and the environment with walls as white as a psychiatric hospital. She said that I looked like a nurse going from table to table to give them their pills in porcelain saucers to the long-lived of New York," Jimin laughed. "That was funny...it's like the truth-"

"And about me?" Jungkook felt the fever consuming his body, a headache approaching like a shadow behind his neck.

"Well, she said the food was tasteless and you screwed up the only thing she was looking forward to"

"The mushrooms?"

"How did you know?" 

"Of course, it was the mushrooms," Jeon muttered, squeezing his eyes shut, cursing Vic with the wrath of a thousand seas, wanting him to be engulfed and convulsing for all eternity looking for oxygen. 

"The sauce was salty to the point that she wanted to throw up, she said."

"The sauce was salty," he repeated and then smiled so as not to destroy the room in his sickly state.

He doesn't remember much of what he did those three days that had passed. Jimin would stop by his apartment to bring dinner and pick up the shirts from the floor. He complained about Jin for half an hour with a glass of wine in hand, until Jimin realized that Jungkook couldn't even stay focused.

"Hey, wake up." Jimin patted his cheeks and Jungkook didn't even flinch.

"Vic has been there? In the restaurant, I mean," Jungkook grabbed the wine from Jimin's hand, drinking it all in one gulp.

"No, he had a friend go get his things the next day."

"Who, the youtube whore?"

"No," Jimin chuckled. They both saw each other and laughed under their breaths.

"It was a redhead."

"Oh, you mean Chris."

"Yeah," Jimin answered looking at his friend with tipsy eyes. "When was the last time you got laid?"

Jungkook began to fidget around, looking for something to occupy his hands with.

"It can't be that Victor-" Jimin's mouth tightened. "Of course," he chuckled, a light rose painting his cheeks.

"What the hell do you know, Park?"

"I would have known."

"Are you spying on me through the cameras you have in my bathroom to see if I jerk off?" His hoarse voice was screeching, and Jimin couldn't take his anger seriously.

"There's a certain je ne sais quoi to it when you fuck, like you stop yelling so much and actually do your job."

"I do my job."

"But it would be better if you didn't scream all the time like a fucking maniac."

"Mmm," tiredness wouldn't let him continue answering. He had taken a pill for the flu but he didn't know it was going to hit him so fast. Jimin noticed.

"Well, I'll let you rest. I brought you a couple of plums and oranges from the market."

"Tell Jin I say hi in the morning," Jungkook mumbled.

Jimin patted him on the shoulder and left Jungkook's phone on the table with your Instagram open. "Stop watching morning TV, your brain will melt."

Jungkook didn't touch the phone for a long while thinking about the words that were repeating like a broken record: "tasteless" and "elite for the elite"...Jungkook didn't even come from a wealthy family. It was foolish.

He lazily swiped his way down through your profile, looking at the thumbnails of your photos where you smiled like nothing was wrong. 

You liked showing cleavage, he realized. In addition to being a liar, you liked the attention. There was one where you were in a jacuzzi with a glass of champagne and another where you were on the French shores.

Besides the fact that you liked the attention, it was for a reason. The way your lips curved into a smile as if your breasts weren't pinched in that bikini two sizes too small. 

What kind of reporter were you?

Without realizing it, Jungkook was lying on his bed looking at your photos while eating a plum. He didn't know if it was the sweetness of the ripe fruit or the fever, but he felt strange. His body felt like it was floating between the satin of his bed. 

Another brush up to your profile: more food, more cats, travel, you in a bikini. One, in particular, caused the lower half of him to brush against the sheets. It wasn't that different from the others, but for some reason this time you weren't smiling. You looked at the camera with a certain judging that made Jungkook's throat boil.

His fingers were covered in prune juice, the wrinkled seed clenched between his teeth. What he was going to do wasn't one of his most dignified moments, but the meds made him delirious, not fucking someone besides Vic made him even sicker. 

His sticky fingers trailed from his navel to the edge of his boxers. When he felt the wetness of his slimy fingers on his tip he clamped the seed harder into his teeth, growling in loathing.

Your face caused his chest to swell with anger and his dick to rise at the slightest touch of his tattooed hand. Thinking of your tongue tasting his cock on a plate, no garnish, no cutlery. He wanted you to swallow it and shed tears on your cheeks.

A shriek. He tossed the phone onto the bed and covered his embarrassed face with his forearm. His hand trembled under his Calvin boxers, saliva pooling in his mouth as he couldn't swallow. 

His tongue flicked over the seed in his mouth, and like a flash, the image of him covering your clit with his spit flashed by. He growled like a fleeing animal as his orgasm made him arch his back. He removed the seed from his mouth.

"Fuck," he mumbled when he saw the stain on his pants. Air rushed out of his nose for the first time all day. He closed his eyes in pure bliss. Two minutes later, he wrinkled his nose and repeated: "Fuck," this time rolling his eyes, angry with himself for what he was going to do. He turned on his cell phone screen and opened the dm of your profile.

jkookcooks: So what kind of reviews do you do when you leave mid-meal? You didn't even try dessert. If you really want to do something worthwhile and not your unnecessary sensationalism, maybe you should come try something made by me.

He almost threw the cell phone when he hit send. Feeling the cold of his cum in his pants and the words he send to make him cringe.

When he got up to clean himself up, he heard his cell phone vibrate almost immediately. 

Didn't you have things to do on a Friday night?

CherryCloud: Just say the day, chef.

A smile left Jungkook's lips. He'd love to grab your face and make you eat the best meal you ever had, to see if you'll shut up that way... He'd have to plan the menu for the night.

Why did he feel a sudden fear? He saw the photo again: your judgy eyes, hugging your knees.

[sukirichi]

— out of reach | gojo x reader

request: Girllllll I just read your jealous gojo fic and my heart went 📈📈📈📈💥💥💥 youre now one of my fav writers 🙏🧎‍♀️And the spicy parts 😫😫😫 💖 If your asks are still open, could I please request a fic where GOJO has a size kink 🥺🥺🥺 my 5’1 ass is obsessed with that shizzzz 

pov: you’re gojo’s childhood friend and roommate – which leads to utter chaos – or perhaps utter bliss?

warnings: size kink, lots of teasing, lots of cursing, dirty talk, choking (probably not in the way you think), body worship, lots of size difference scenes, slight manhandling, overstimulation, thigh fucking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (don’t do this irl guys) + unedited fic :D

notes: idk what happened here LMAOOO but i loved writing this one because i’m short as hell too lol. thanks for this request anon, i hope you like it! <3

word count: 10.5k

masterlist ! 

If you’re going to be honest, having Gojo as a roommate is something completely unexpected.

Not only are you two from entirely different worlds – him as a jujutsu sorcerer and you as an average human who can’t see curses – but he’s also just someone who is entirely out of your league. He’s respected and looked up to in his field of work, while half of your co-workers don’t even know your name, much less notice you in function parties where you mostly just nibble on sushi before calling it a day and turning back home.

You and Gojo met in elementary school. You could tell from the way he’s surrounded by servants and stern looking adults, firm hands on his small shoulders, that he was different from everyone else.

Apparently, he comes from one of the three big clans in the jujutsu world or whatever. You honestly don’t care about any of that, because Gojo refuses to act maturely about his role in the clan. You still remember how quiet he was on the first day of school, never smiling and keeping to himself despite your persuasion to eat lunch with him or play with him after school in the courtyard.

You miss that Gojo Satoru – the quiet, serious kid who was far too gentle in his actions yet firm in his words and beliefs. When you were still a little girl, you admired how he seemed older than his age, a wistful look in those azure blue eyes of his that you’ve always loved.

To you, Gojo Satoru was your hero. You’ve always been one of the shortest kids in class, and it didn’t help that you really loved pigtails all the way until middle school that made you an easy target from immature people who’s being hit way too fast by puberty and growing each passing day. You never minded your short stature because really, it’s just height, but you couldn’t ignore how your confidence dwindled each day when they called you several array of nicknames.

Too shy to fight back, you’d laugh it off or force a smile.

Gojo wasn’t having any of it. He’d break his silence and immediately pull you to his side (which only made things worse because Gojo was one of the tallest kids in class, further emphasizing how small you are right next to him) before threatening to smack the kids right in the face.

The threat should be enough to land him detention, but because he’s Gojo Satoru, the golden kid everyone loved, they took his word seriously.

At the age of eleven, you started seeing your best friend as your knight in shining armour. Gojo basked in this, growing protective and always glaring at whoever snickered when you walked past them. Sometimes he even bared his teeth to hiss at them, which was honestly so ridiculous now that you think about, though the message – the threat – always came across loud and clear.

So yeah, you love Gojo, you still do.

Years flew by and the two of you grew apart due to work and also as a part of growing up. You still kept in contact, messaging each other once a month to ask the other how they’re doing. His work kept him extremely busy though, and Gojo didn’t want you involved in the dangers of what he’s doing, so he makes sure to keep a safe distance.

Until six months ago, you hear a banging on your door. You’re just about ready to throw hands because your former roommate moved out to live with her stoner boyfriend, leaving you to shoulder all the bills and responsibilities of maintaining a two man apartment.

A sneer forms on your lips as you swing the door open, a scowl already on your face. You assumed it was your roommate who returned to get the pair of lace panties they left in their room, but instead, your childhood friend stands before you, taller (seriously, how has he not stopped growing?) and definitely a lot hotter than the last time you saw him.

One thing leads to another, and now it feels like there was never such distance between the two of you with how easily you both fell back into a comfortable – yet chaotic – rhythm and routine of being each other’s roommate.

Not that you mind, of course. Gojo’s definitely changed a lot from when you were kids. He’s no longer that stiff or sensitive when it comes to others. In fact, it seems like he loosens up a lot more with age, because you can barely recognize the man living under the same roof with you now.

For one thing, Gojo is loud. Like really talkative, won’t shut the fuck up and speaks like he’s in a screaming contest with someone. It doesn’t matter if you’re taking an important phone call or sleepwalking at three in the morning to pee, Gojo is always creating some sort of ruckus.

You’d never admit it out loud, but you loved it. You love him.

He’s definitely a lot more enthusiastic and fun to be with now that both of you have grown up, or in Gojo’s case, simply aged. His maturity reversed backwards because it feels like you’re taking care of a little kid.

Not only does his body clock is practically non-existent, he’s also horrible when it comes to taking care of himself and being punctual with work.

Fortunately for him, you love him, and you both leave for work at the same time. You always wake up earlier to prepare breakfast so you’d both have energy to start the day – although you highly doubt there’s really anything that depletes his endless source of one.

Sleepily walking through the kitchen with your fist rubbing at your eyes, you rummage through the refrigerator for some eggs when you realize there’s none.

Huh, you think to yourself, scratching your scalp. You’re sure that Gojo went grocery shopping last week since it’s his chore to do the outside stuff like buying groceries and throwing thrash, so where did it go?

You open shelf by shelf, checking each corner and shoving cans aside to look for the tray. With a glare, you stand on your tiptoes to pull the pantry open, only to have your mouth fall aghast because it’s all there – right at the back where you can’t reach it!

Fucking Satoru, you grit your teeth while heaving your body up onto the counter. It’s a struggle because not only are your muscles still half asleep, but because the shelf is right in your face, and if you’re not careful enough, you could hit it right with your face and fall over. Of fucking course you know Satoru did this to make fun of you – and now you retract your statement over your best friend.

It’s all a lie.

He’s a pain in the ass. Why do you even bother cooking for him and letting him live literally just a room away when you know he won’t stop pulling shit like this?

Because, the nagging voice in your head tries to mock, he’s your best friend and you can’t really say no to him. This makes you huff as you carefully pull the tray towards you, hooking two fingers at the edge while your other palm grips at the end of the counter for support. No thanks to your short limbs, you’re practically hogging the shelf by now in an attempt to reach it. You look ridiculous, that’s for sure, and you make a mental note to keep Satoru’s windows open tonight so he freezes to death –

“Aw, cupcake,” a sing-song voice emerges from the other side of the room. “You look so adorable. You should’ve woke me up if you need my help.”

“Fuck off, Satoru,” you flip him off. The man only laughs, the rambunctious sound echoing off the walls. It’s way too early in the morning and he’s already so damn loud; something builds up at the back of your head out of frustration already. His grin only gets wider when you finally got the eggs and clutch it your chest, setting it down on the counter while wiping your sweat away from your face. “Freeloader,” you mutter under your breath, ignoring him when he happily skips over to you.

“Ouch,” he places a palm over his chest, although you both know he’s never really affected by anything. “So what’s for breakfast today? You?”

“You know, I can kick you out anytime I want. I’m being extremely nice even going as far to cook you breakfast before you leave for work, so don’t test my patience.”

“Exactly, my best friend is so kind,” Satoru grows the audacity to rest his arm on your head. This triggers a reflexive response from you; shoulders tensing up and hands curling into fists beside you. “I would totally date her if she wasn’t such a temperamental little devil,” you nearly stab him with a fork with his statement, which he thinks he’s being so sly for but you heard it, and you’re most definitely not pleased with it. “Okay, I’m kidding! I’m going to go shower now!”

You roll your eyes at him and heat the pan over with some oil, muttering under your breath that you’re really going to kick him out soon. As if things couldn’t get worse – as if Satoru couldn’t get any worse – he smacks your backside in the process before darting to the showers.

“Gojo Satoru!”

“Morning, best friend, love ya!”

You were right. He is a pain in the ass.

“You don’t always have to walk me to work.”

“I know.”

“So why’re you still here? I’m not a little kid anymore,” Contrary to your words, you stick closer to Satoru when the morning rush of workers and students begin to crowd the streets. Your best friend notices this with a small smile, his hand resting on the small of your back. “Don’t even try, Satoru.”

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

“I know that look on your face,” you fiddle with the buttons of your uniform, sighing when Satoru follows you inside the bus after tapping your phone for two seats. It’s not a surprise to you anymore that most of your expenses are spent by him, for him, and he lazily sprawls his long limbs across the seat before you pulling you down right next to him.

As much as you hate this man, especially because he smirks at the attention he’s receiving from women – even men – in the bus, you have to admit he’s warm and smells damn good. You bite the inside of your cheeks, looking around in slight self-consciousness before inching a little closer, just to feel his warmth. He’s comforting – irrationally so – so you set your bag between the both of you to keep your sanity. “If you keep doing this, Principal Yaga might fire your ass because you’re never on time.”

“Trust me, cupcake, he won’t. I’m too valuable for that.”

How you saw that coming – you can’t tell anymore. The bus ride is relatively quiet and eventless, with you dozing off every now and then because you’re never a morning person. Thankfully, Satoru is more respectful this time around, lolling your head until it drops to his shoulder. After that, he snakes his arm around your waist before resting it on your thigh as a way to say you don’t have to head bang every damn second and just sleep.

On any other occasion, you would’ve hated it. You always look so small whenever you’re in Satoru’s presence. It doesn’t help that he’s long and lanky, either, his slender fingers effortlessly caressing your thigh while almost your entire body is flushed next to him. But right now, he’s too warm, too soft, and you’re too tired that for just a little bit, you allow yourself to relax.

A beeping wakes you up a moment later. Opening your eyes, you push yourself off Satoru when you see an old lady reaching for the handles. No one gave up their seats for her even as the bus driver asked her to find a seat lest she’d fall.

“Grandma, here, take my seat—” You’re about to stand up and offer it to her when Satoru tugs you by the wrist. Because of your small, wobbly composure, pulling you to him takes little to no effort. You end up on his lap, sitting on him as if you’re nothing but a small, dainty schoolbag. Satoru is clearly enjoying this because you feel him breathily laugh on the back of your neck, charming – annoyingly so – as he gestures to the now empty spot beside him.

“It’s no worries, Grandma. She’ll be fine,” he gestures to you, patting your head like you’re some puppy. “Please, take a seat. The bus is already moving.”

“Satoru, get off me,” You wriggle yourself from his hold, which only ends up in wasted effort because this big oaf doesn’t even budge. He even bounces you on one of his thighs, and you dig your nails into his arms as a silent plead for him to stop. He ignores this, ignores your small whines and the apparent embarrassment that has you debating whether to punch him or hide yourself in the safety of his uniform.

“She’s a feisty little one, isn’t she?”

The old lady watches the two of you banter, giggling behind her wrinkled hands. “You’re an adorable couple.”

“I think so too!”

“You’re so going to pay for this, Satoru,” you grumble, face planted onto your palms. This is it – the worst day of your life. It’s even worse because despite your protests, you have to admit his lap is actually comfortable. You’ve already known this before after countless times of cuddling with Satoru during movie nights, but its different when you’re both out in public. It feels...oddly intimate and maybe even romantic when he rubs soothing circles at your back, almost as if apologizing for this event. Most of all, you just hate the way something pools beneath your stomach at having him so close to you like this. “This is so embarrassing. I’m practically crushing you with my weight.”

“Please, cupcake, you barely weigh anything. I could easily lift you off with just my finger,” when you elbow him in the chest, Satoru only laughs, raising both hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll stop teasing.”

You give up. No one seems to be paying much attention to any of you anyway, so you sigh, letting yourself hide in the crook of his neck as you watch the city pass through the windows. Your body moves as his chest rises and falls from his breathing, the movement oddly comforting. It’s embarrassing – it really is – but at least the grandma was comfortable until Satoru drops you off near your building.

“You don’t have to walk me all the way there.”

“Why not? You don’t want people to see us together or something?”

“No,” you stare at him from the corner of your eye. It’s no secret Satoru is attractive. This bastard knows it too, judging from the way he confidently and arrogantly swaggers next to you, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he walked with no care in the world. “My co-workers keep asking me for your number every time I tell them we’re not dating. It’s getting annoying at this point how they go Satoru this and Satoru that.”

“Am I hearing it right? Is cupcake jealous?”

“I’m not jealous, I’m disgusted,” you correct, “They don’t know how much of a pain you are to have around. They’re so focused with your looks that they completely overlook the fact you can’t even wash your dirty underwear!”

Satoru frowns at this, pointing his finger to you as if you’ve accused him of a huge crime. “Hey, I wash my underwear.”

“Yeah and last time you did, you mixed it with whites! My work uniform turned a stupid shade of blue! Now I can’t picture the colour of your boxers out of my head and it’s giving me a headache!”

“Wow, Y/N,” the smirk on his face and the sudden drop of nicknames lets you know you’ve said something wrong. Even behind his blindfold, you could tell his eyes are just sparkling with amusement. He’s enjoying this way too much. “I never thought you’d ever picture my boxers. I mean, I don’t mind showing it to you if you ask nicely—”

“Ugh, you’re so hopeless. I’m going to work.”

Gojo laughs when you jog away from him. He catches up with you in a matter of seconds, only having to take a few steps forward before he’s right beside you again. You’re unsure if you should be annoyed it’s so easy for him to always be right next to you, and how he almost always is right next to you while you prefer running away. It muddles with your heart and mind so much you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying not to be swayed by the sickeningly sweet sound of his laughter. “I can’t pick you up later, okay? I might work overtime!” (that’s a lie since Gojo prefers shopping and sightseeing)

Both of you know that’s a lie. Gojo never works overtime. He’s going to work for a few hours and so and call playing around with his students as “on-hand learning” before he goes shopping for stupid souvenirs and wild-flavoured mochis, then end his day by sightseeing and coming back home.

“Wasn’t expecting you to,” you mumble, waving goodbye to him as the office doors close. Slowly, Satoru’s grin and enthusiastic farewell fades into view until nothing but the pale, silver walls of your office greets you.

Funny how you claim to hate this man so much, yet the moment he’s out of sight, everything becomes dull and pointless.

It’s an absolutely shitty day. Your equally shitty boss blames you for something you didn’t even do, all because his incompetent secretary – who you’re sure he’s sleeping with – lost this month’s report and claimed she handed it to you last week when you’re not involved in that kind of work. Logic doesn’t come by them because your boss publicly humiliates and scolds you, calling you all kinds of names until tears are streaming down your face.

You slam the door shut the moment you get home, kicking your shoes off as you head straight to your room. You don’t bother taking your makeup off anymore as you change into a loose shirt and floral cotton shirts, padding to the kitchen after seeing Satoru is well nestled into the couch.

At least someone’s had a good day.

Seeing as the sink is empty, he probably hasn’t eaten dinner. This makes you sigh, because when will he ever learn to look after himself? He’s literally like a child.

Satoru pauses whatever he’s watching before he hovers over you, head tilted to the side as he gazes at you with curiosity. You ignore him and begin to set down some bowls and chopsticks for dinner, all the while Satoru is studying every inch of your tightly pulled face. “Bad day?” he concludes.

“Hmm.”

“Bad day it is then,” he nods to himself. “I can cook dinner, if you want.”

“And have you burn my apartment? No thanks,” you scoff, pushing him aside to retrieve the pans when you see that he’s placed them above again, even after you’ve reminded countless times to just leave it near the holders in the sink. “Ugh, why do you keep putting the pans in this shelf? You know I can’t reach this. I’ve had enough with you pulling pranks on me, and don’t think I’ve forgotten you placed my shampoo above the shower head today, you idiot,” you snarl and hop over the counter again to get the pans, trying your best to fight back the tears that are threatening to fall. “You’re really bothersome, you know that?”

“Then why don’t you kick me out?” he challenges, completely oblivious to how you’re struggling – both physically and emotionally. “You always complain about me being a nuisance here, but you’re not really doing anything to keep me out.”

“Because where else would you go?”

“Technically, I have a room back at the Institute.”

“Yeah, but because you’re so stupid and reckless that you got kicked out of your own home,” you spat out, and you watch as Satoru raises a brow at your statement. Banter is common between the both of you, but something about the intensity of your gaze lets him know you’re serious this time around. “I don’t even know how Yuuji puts up with you. That poor Megumi is right when he says you’re insufferable. You’re good for nothing!”

Satoru scoffs, “Fine, if you hate me that much, why didn’t you just say so earlier? I could easily pack my bags and go since I’m just making everything harder—” Satoru doesn’t get to finish what he’s saying when your hand over the counter that acts as support slips under you, and you fall, legs bent awkwardly while you scream, preparing yourself for the impact. The pan is long forgotten, your only thought was oh my god, so this is how I die.

But it never came, and you keep your eyes shut tight even as warm hands cup your ass. Satoru is breathing hard under you. Finally gaining the courage to crack an eye open, your breath halts when you see that he’s sitting on the floor, with you safely nestled between him.

Satoru has always had pretty eyes, but it’s rare he takes off his blindfold off even when he’s home. This is one of those rare occurrences that he seems like a normal human, dressed in a gray sweatshirt that hands low from his collarbones and magnetic blue eyes staring right back at you. His touch is gentle, almost as if he’s afraid to hurt you, and his voice that is usually loud and teasing comes out breathy and hesitant.

“Are you okay?”

Your gaze drops down to his lips. He’s close, so close, that if you just lean a little closer you could – you snap out of your daze. “Get off me.”

“Cupcake, you’re the one who’s on top of me,” his voice falls an octave lower, eyes flitting down to your clothing – or rather the lack of it – before Satoru takes a deep breath. “Did you really have to wear that?”

“I have the right to wear whatever I want in the comfort of my own home.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” he raised a brow, this time completely in control of himself as he gazes back up at you with a burning gaze. You see nothing but the way one corner of his lips tilt up, almost teasing, and he looks so much like a shit-eater that you feel heat crawl down your spine.

You push yourself off him but your bent foot behind you slips, and you fall forward with your hands clutching his strong shoulders. Satoru catches your leg behind you, drags it forward until your knee is pressed in between one of your warmth, very much still enjoying the way you wriggle away from his hold. He knows his effect on you – but you deny this wholeheartedly.

“Careful, cupcake. This isn’t a slip and slide.”

“I hate you so much,” you bare your teeth at him, slapping his chest until he finally lets go of you. Turning your back to him, you pick up the pan and begin preparing your dinner, muttering curses under your breath as you heat up the stove. “I’m kicking you out tomorrow.”

“Why not now?”

“Eat your damn dinner first.”

Dinner after that is awkward. Although Gojo is someone who can wolf down his meal in three seconds, he takes his time in eating to start conversation with you. Sometimes he asks decent questions like how your day was or he’d talk about something stupid, but he’s quiet the whole time. He even volunteers to do the dishes before retreating to his room, coating the house in silence.

It almost feels like you’re all alone over again.

You’ve gotten so used to him being an utter mess everywhere that when he’s not trying to piss you off and actually giving you the much needed peace, you begin to hate it. Memories of the rude things you’ve said to him a while ago play and in your head, and you bang your head against the wall repeatedly.

How are you supposed to apologize to Satoru now?

The answer doesn’t come until you stare at your walls, wide awake at midnight. The house is still eerily silent and you don’t stop shuffling around your bed in discomfort. Many times, you wished that Satoru would shut up and leave you alone, but now that he’s actually done that, it feels weird. Uncomfortable. It feels wrong.

With a grunt, you kick off the sheets and carefully tread to his room, knocking lightly in case he’s already sleeping. “Satoru?” you call out, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “Are you awake?”

You’ve seen Satoru angry as kids before, but what would he be like now? Would he still want to be your friend? Would he still annoy you by hiding your things somewhere you can’t reach? Or would he be the who is now out of reach? If he leaves...who’s going to walk you to work? Who’s going to complain he doesn’t want to do groceries but buys you things you don’t ask for but want anyway? Who’s going to keep teasing the living daylights out of you if not him?

All these thoughts claw at the back of your mind until your bottom lip trembles. You hate how weak you feel; how you’re never careful with your words.

You never meant it when you said all that.

Your train of thought is cut off when the door swings open, revealing an equally tired-looking Satoru. At the sight of you peering up at him with glossy eyes, he pushes the door wider and steps closer to you, his large hands cupping your face as he leans down in worry. “Cupcake,” his brows pinch together, “Did something happen? Is something wrong?”

“I just wanted to apologize for everything I said,” you blurt out, “I was just tired from work and my boss was being shitty, so I wasn’t totally myself that time and I’m really sorry I took my anger out on you. I didn’t mean it when I said you’re insufferable and that I’m kicking you out so – yeah,” you breathe out, trailing your gaze downwards to stare at your feet instead. It’s difficult to look him in the eye right now. When you finally gain courage to speak again, it barely comes out as a whimper, your hands delicately tugging at his shirt. “Please stay. I like having my best friend around here.”

Satoru doesn’t answer.

You’re about to look up at him just in case you’ve said something wrong, or worse, he refuses to forgive you, but then – “Yeah, I know you wouldn’t kick me out. You’re too much of a darling to say no to me.”

Sigh. Satoru laughs when he sees your shoulders deflate, absolutely shattered in exhaustion. Hiding your smile to now show him you’re relieved, you punch his chest that really feels like a fly had accidentally flew into him. “Way to ruin the mood, Satoru. And here I thought I could have a serious conversation with you for once.”

“Apology accepted,” he beams, tilting your chin upwards so you could look at him. Even in the darkness of his room, his eyes glow, leaving you hypnotized in its beauty. “Plus, I think I’m the one who should apologize. You’re right; I haven’t been the best roommate and I am a freeloader,” he scratches the side of his head in thought. “But I do buy you food all the time though.”

“Yeah, with my money,” you counter, but you don’t really care anymore at this point. You’re beyond elated you’re both fine now, and you shyly gesture to his big, warm bed that suddenly looks so comfortable. “Can I stay here for tonight?”

“You want Satoru’s bear hug?”

“Yes, I do.” There’s no hesitation in your words and you don’t complain anymore when he easily picks you up like a ragdoll using only one arm. He’s surprisingly gentle when he places you both down on the bed, sheets warm and soft as it blankets over you.

It would be perfect – except it’s so damn awkward.

Gojo’s long limbs are everywhere. Your face is pressed into his chest, both your legs tangled together. His arm is sprawled over the curve of your hip, his hand nearly grazing your ass that’s barely covered by the thin material of your shorts, but if he shifts, he’ll end up cupping the back of your thighs which is equally uncomfortable.

He seems to be stuck in the same position because you’re so small, and your knees are grazing his groin. Had he known you’re going to sleep with him, he would’ve worn underwear or even boxers under his sweatpants.

He’s never told you before, but he prefers to sleep in the nude. Satoru only picked up the nearest pair of pants when he heard you knock, and even then, he didn’t have the time to wear a shirt.

Your breath is hot on his skin and he’s so sensitive and aware of all your movements. Satoru clears his throat awkwardly, shifting until his arm lightly holds your back instead, but then he pulls away as if he’s touched fire when he’d unknowingly fiddled with your bra clasp instead. It’s so painfully awkward that Satoru chuckles above you, while you scrunch your nose, silently praying to the heavens above that he won’t hear how loud your heart is beating right now.

“Why is it so hot in your own room?”

“Maybe it’s time you get me an AC.”

“You wish, Satoru,” you mumble beneath him, making yourself as comfortable as you can with your cheek resting on his bicep. It’s not the softest pillow considering he’s pretty muscular, but he’s warm and smells like mint spice nevertheless. “You’re really not going to put on a shirt?”

Satoru sighs, a long and loud one that is extended for dramatic purposes. Suddenly, he pushes your knee off of him, grimacing and thanking the darkness that you can’t see how much he’s struggling right now. “Cupcake, this is hard for me as much as it is for you. You’re barely wearing anything.”

“Since when have you cared about what I wear?”

“I’m a man, Y/N,” is what he reasons with, “You’re lucky it’s me. Had it been someone else and you crawled into their bed wearing these—” Satoru pinches the waistband of your shorts, and you squeal in protest, only making him laugh afterwards before he lets it go and the material snaps back at your skin, “—poor excuse of what you call shorts, I can’t guarantee they’ll give you a peaceful night.”

You know exactly what he’s trying to hint at. Still, it’s hard to believe that Satoru is capable of seeing you that way.

It’s not that you feel you’re unattractive. You know you’re pretty and have been out on many dates, but it’s easy to feel that you’re not sexy when you have the height of a thirteen year old and you’ve been constantly chastised about it.

Satoru’s not-compliment compliment has your heart skipping a beat, and you scoff in response. “Shut up,” you warn lamely, “I want to sleep.”

“Then let’s sleep, cupcake.” You don’t know if it’s because you’re utterly exhausted that you doze off seconds later or if Satoru’s words just held power in them, but soon all thoughts of anything unwanted drifts out the window, his arms keeping you close, completely safe and sound until the worst nightmares couldn’t even come close.

Hot. It’s extremely hot.

You crack an eye open to try and find the source of this uncomfortable heat, but you freeze when you realize you can’t feel your muscles from the chin down. Panic rises in your throat once you see the current predicament you’re in, and a scream rips through your throat so loud that the birds outside scurry away in a flurry.

You’re wrapped in Satoru’s blanket and comforter, rendering you unable to move because of how he’d treated you like a burrito wrap. Even your toes are captured inside this hell, and only your head is able to wriggle side to side.

“Satoru!”

The culprit comes out of the shower a split second later, his hair dripping wet and only a towel hanging low from his lips. If you weren’t so hell-bent on killing him, you would’ve been speechless at the way water drips from his hair down to the curves of his abs, going down down down into a place only your darkest imaginations could take you.

Satoru bends over in laughter as he whips out his phone, jumping from angle to angle and side to side to take photos of you. “Fuck,” he howls, slapping his thigh while you snarl in an attempt to break free. “You’re a lot cuter than I thought you’d be.”

“Satoru! Get me out of here!”

“No, this is way too gold. I’m sending these to my students.”

“Satoru, I’m serious!” The devil incarnate himself falls deaf to your please.

Maybe it’s because the violent intent has coursed through your veins so strongly that a surge of energy and strength overcomes you, and soon, you’ve rolled out of the blanket. The fresh air nipping at your heated skin is most welcomed, but right now, you had a mission to fulfil: obliterate Gojo Satoru.

The platinum haired man is still laughing to himself, too distracted in scrolling through the best photos to send to his students that he doesn’t notice you escaping and zooming straight right at him.

The momentum is enough to catch him off guard until you end up on top of him, short arms clawing your way through to snatch his phone. Satoru yelps when his phone lands out into the living room and your hands come down to choke him. You don’t have plans to kill him, but you want to hurt him enough to remind him you’re not someone he can fuck with.

You’ve just about had enough of this man and you’re so sick of him!

Satoru yells out a “Hey!” when you let out a battle cry, using your legs to kick him back when he tries to sit up. Your plan backfires when your hands slip down his wet skin and you fall face forwards, hands barely touching the ground for support when your lips come crashing down on his.

He stills underneath you. It takes a moment for you to realize that holy shit, you’re kissing him and his lips are so soft that has you scrambling back, but Satoru doesn’t let you.

His large hand comes up at the back of your neck to pull you forward. The sudden movement makes you gasp, and Satoru slips his tongue inside when you do so. You no longer remember how you got here or try to make sense of what’s going on, because he feels so good, tastes so good that you bury your nails in his hair while he ravishes your mouth.

You’re so tiny that his hand cups your entire buttcheek almost possessively, a low growl emanating deep in his throat when your tongue eagerly intertwines with his. Satoru tastes like heaven and everything about the kiss is sloppy – tongue clashing with one another and teeth nibbling at the other’s lips. It’s clear both of you can’t get enough of one another as you moan in his mouth, shamelessly grinding on his crotch, suddenly thankful that you’re always wearing thin clothes when you feel him harden underneath you.

“Fuck, baby,” he pulls away to breathe, a string of saliva connecting the both of you. “Yeah, just like that,” There’s something empowering about the way he pants at your ministrations, especially when you roll your hips faster across his erection. “Keep going, baby, you’re doing – fuck – so well.”

You smirk at his praises, latching your teeth on his neck to suck marks on them. Satoru groans at the same time you muffle your moans through his skin, his hands sliding under your shirt to tug the cups of your bra down. You nearly lose it when he pinches your nipple, bolts of electricity running down your spine at the contact. A moan breaks through your lips just as you come right there and then, the wetness of your sudden orgasm barely hidden in your flimsy underwear.

“Feel good?” he teases and drags your shirt down to the other side, but the post-nut clarity hits. And when it does, it hits hard.

Fuck. You just came from Satoru’s simple touches, and he’s so unsatisfied, still painfully hard underneath you but nothing but panic and regret washes over you like a strong tidal wave. Suddenly, you grow lightheaded as you push yourself off him, fixing your bra while ignoring the confused and hurt look on his face.

“I gotta go to work,” you run out the room, feeling your body tremble as Satoru runs after you. “Make yourself breakfast. I’ll eat on the way out.”

“Y/N, wait!”

You know you’ve just ruined everything – that nothing will ever be the same after that – but you’re scared, utterly and remorsefully so, that you slam the door right in his face as if you don’t have any idea how much you broke him.

You’ll never forget the way Satoru’s face fell when you left.

Just as you thought, nothing is the same after that. The tension is so thick around the apartment you make an effort and go out of your way just to avoid him and the apartment completely.

It’s cowardly – you know this much – but do you ever try to fix the friendship you cherish but shattered completely? You don’t. You don’t because it only crashes down onto you now that maybe your feelings for him aren’t just platonic, after all. It’s even worse because you touch yourself at the thought of him filling you up when he’s asleep, all because you want him so bad and the mere presence of him has your brain malfunctioning.

It isn’t entirely sexual either. Yes, you want to fuck him badly, but it scares you down to the core even more because you want so much more than that.

Now you understand why you always say he’s a bother but never asked him to leave. It’s because you like him, actually romantically interested in him. It makes sense now why you always felt so annoyed whenever your co-workers asked for his number, or how you’re immediately pissed off when Satoru talks about this hot woman he saw at work. You always chalk it up to an excuse you just hate how he can’t keep in his pants, but it isn’t true at all.

It’s because you actually like him – and you’re at a loss on what to do or how to deal with it.

The next few days feels like hell. Satoru isn’t stupid; he knows you’re avoiding him. He stops teasing you eventually and even buys takeout all the time when you lock yourself up in your room right after work, refusing to cook dinner or even eat all so you’d be spared the torture of looking at him.

He’d knock at your door and ask you to eat, but other than that, he’s respected your distance.

You feel like the most terrible person on earth. You don’t miss the way dark circles line under his eyes or how he’s lost his spark, barely even speaking to you when you’ve come or about to leave for work.

You’re alone the whole ride, as well, and it only dawns on you how lonely you are when Satoru isn’t always annoying you all the time.

But it doesn’t make sense. Why is he so bothered by it? Didn’t he regret it? It’s painfully clear you’re not Satoru’s type. You’ve seen the women he dated before, and you’re not close to them so why does he seem like he’s struggling with this as well? Or maybe...he’s just sad that his friend is avoiding him.

Yeah, that has to be it.

Satoru is a man. He was probably turned on at that time, but after giving some thought about it, he probably wants to keep his distance too. He’d be insane if he ever actually wants to date you – his best friend out of all people – because he’s Gojo Satoru and he could literally have everyone else.

You don’t care that you’re a coward.

You don’t care that Satoru is sad to see you this way.

You don’t care because you know he’ll reject you, you know he’ll be weirded if you admit your feelings for him. To him, you’re like his little sister. There’s just no way you two would work out. For now, you have to get comfortable with the uncomfortable. You just need some time to get over your feelings for him, and when you’re confident you won’t fall for him again, you’ll mend your friendship.

You just need time.

“So, Y/N, you still don’t want to give us your friend’s number?”

“Yeah, Y/N, you should share it,” your co-worker encourages by jabbing her shoulder to yours. It’s a lazy Friday night and the staff went out for dinner. You don’t usually come to these hangouts since dinner with Satoru is always much more fun, but he’s the last person you want to think about now, so you happily join them. Now, though, you’re starting to regret ever coming here. “If he’s really single like you said, then it shouldn’t be a big deal to ask for it.”

“Well, since you want it so badly, why don’t you ask him directly for it instead?” you snap, feeling anger begin to trickle. All you wanted was just one day where you don’t have to think of him, but of course they had to bring him up. It’s also annoying how they can never seem to get the message across that you don’t want them dating him. “Why do I have to be the messenger?”

“We haven’t seen him much. Doesn’t he always walk you to work?”

“He’s been busy with his job, that’s all.” And also because I’m avoiding him – so now he’s avoiding me too.

“He’s a teacher, right?”

“Oh, come on, guys, don’t be so dense,” your senpai chugged her drink rather loudly, catching the attention of your nosy co-workers who wouldn’t stop pestering you for his number. “Look at how uncomfortable she looks. It’s obvious she doesn’t want you guys to be involved with her friend for a reason. Think of how weird it is for her too if ever her co-worker and best friend dated. She’s going to feel like a third wheel.”

“I’m not—”

“That makes sense,” your co-worker nodded beside you, “Are you sure you just don’t like him though?”

“Ew, why would I?” the food began to taste bitter through your lies, “He may be tall and attractive, but as his roommate, I’ve seen his ugly side. Satoru is a complete slob and can’t even cook to save his life.”

“I don’t mind cooking for him all the time if I were to be his little housewife.”

“That’s never gonna happen,” your words came out harsher than it was, and you laugh it off with a wave of your hand when your co-workers’ eyes widened. “I’ve been living with him for six months and he’s never brought anyone home or told me he’s going on a date. I told you already, he’s a no strings attached kind of guy. He’s nothing but a one night stand.”

“You have to admit he’s still sexy though.”

Right. You hide your groan through another shot because there’s no way of convincing them otherwise. As much as you hate to admit, you’re actually jealous on how freely they could talk about him like that, but then again, it’s not like you and Satoru were dating – or would ever date, for that matter.

They start to leave one by one when it starts to get late, leaving only you who’s still desperate to avoid Satoru. Nothing prepares you for when the sky darkens and a storm comes pouring just as you’ve left the closing shop, the rain drenching and soaking your clothes through and through. Running under the nearest tree for shelter, you shiver. It’s cold – way too cold – and curse yourself for not bringing a darned umbrella.

The nearest bus stop is like what, fifteen to twenty minutes away? Your teeth are chattering and your legs are shaking, and you fumble through your phone as you dial a number you know by heart before you even realize what you’re doing. “S-Satoru?”

“Y/N,” the surprise is unmasked in his voice, something shuffling in the background before it falls silent. “Is everything okay?”

“Uhm, are you busy right now? It’s fine if you are, I’m just—”

“I’m training with Yuuji, but what is it?”

“Listen, I,” you inhale sharply when coldness bursts through your body, making you shiver and press yourself closer to tree to get away from the rain. Above you, thunder crackles before the rain grows heavier and angrier. “I forgot to bring an umbrella and I’m absolutely soaked right now. The nearest bus stop is fifteen minutes away and all the buildings here look so shady—”

“I’ll be on my way. Text me where you are,” You nod and thank him, too cold and numb to realize you’ve just broken days of silence. You lose track of time under there, hugging yourself until your lips turn blue. It doesn’t take long before Satoru shows up minutes later, his hair equally drenched and sticking flat to his eyes free from his blindfold while he pants, hand on his knees. “Thank goodness you’re safe. I rushed here so fast I forgot to bring an umbrella.”

After seeing Satoru drenched like that, something snaps within you. He doesn’t seem bothered by the fact the rain is unforgiving as it slaps the pavement, and your heart breaks when you see that he’s more concerned for you – even after you’ve given him the silent treatment. “You idiot! Now you’re soaking wet too, you’re going to get sick!”

“Highly unlikely,” he shrugs. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

“But what about—” Satoru suddenly carries you before draping his coat over your head, running until he found a cab to hail. He immediately asks the driver to turn up the heater while you tremble on top of him, not caring anymore that you’re sticking so close to him for heat.

Satoru doesn’t let you go all the way inside the apartment. He sets you down on the couch where you take off your wet clothes in haste, too cold with teeth chattering that you silently take the hoodie and boxers Satoru offers you, making sure to keep his gaze averted the whole time. Once fully dressed, you snuggle back into the sofa’s comfort, stiffening when the couch dips beside you.

Not a moment later, Satoru towel-dries your hair, leaving your mouth and throat dry with guilt. Even after you’ve unnecessarily been a bitch to him, he’s still so kind with you.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Satoru...” you twiddle with your thumbs just as he starts to ruffle the towel in your hair, making sure to squeeze water out of the strands as he dries it. “About what happened the other day—”

“It didn’t happen if you don’t want it to,” his voice is cold’ monotonous and so emotionless you’re rendered speechless. “You can forget about it.”

“I...”

“You regret it, right?” he’s done with drying your hair, and he stands up to place the wet towels in the sink as you watch him stride all the way there. He’s changed his clothes too; looking comfortable in a plain white shirt and some grey sweatpants, looking every bit the domestic boyfriend you’ve always wanted but can never have. “It’s fine. We can forget about it and go back to normal,” to emphasize his point, Satoru winks at you, though it does nothing but make your heart sink.

“What if I don’t want to forget it?” your voice is small; hesitant and wavering with fear. “What if...the only reason I pulled away is because I wanted more of you?”

Satoru’s back freezes as he sets the towel aside. At this point, your heart is pulsing on your tongue, and you dig your nails onto your thighs when Satoru sits down next to you, right next to you. He’s silent the whole time; eyes calculatedly piercing through yours. Your breath hitches when his hands that are burning hot against your cold skin cups your jaw before his thumb runs across your lips, his eyes turning dark at your reactions.

“And what if I said I felt the same way?”

“I,” you gasp, closing your eyes because it all feels so surreal. “I like you, Satoru. I like you a lot and I—” he doesn’t let you finish. Soon, you find yourself in his lap with his hands cupping your cheeks while he smashes his lips onto yours.

Satoru is absolutely feral. He’s breathing hard and almost angry, even, with the way his teeth are biting down to nibble on your lips. You moan when he drags you closer, your clothed centre rubbing on his thigh with delicious friction. “You have no idea,” he rasps down on your lips, “how much I’ve fucking liked you ever since we were kids,” Satoru pushes his hoodie aside, revealing your sweet neck to him, and he doesn’t waste his time in sucking and abusing the poor flesh so he can mark you as his. “I’ve always wanted you, Y/N, it’s always you, always you.”

You fist his hoodie when Satoru sinks his teeth down into the juncture of your neck, his hands curious and exploring every inch of your body. He knows you’re naked underneath his clothes, but it’s a different thing when he actually feels your breasts right on his palm. Satoru tweaks the hardened bud in his fingers, growling when you moan at the contact and use his thigh to get off.

“You—” you gasp as you expose your neck to him, wild and needy as you keep rubbing your heat over his thigh. “—talk way too fucking much,” you scold, finally pushing his lips away from your neck. Satoru chuckles at your eagerness but you silence him by flinging his boxers off of your body and somewhere far away, exposing your heat slick with arousal right in front of him. His pupils blow in excitement, hands coming up to grab at your hips, but his attention is taken away when you nibble on his ear to whisper, “Shut up and fuck me.”

The simple command is enough to make his patience snap. In a flash, you’re pinned underneath him, whining and moaning when his finger meets no resistance as he slips it inside. “You’re that needy, huh?” he laughs even louder when you lose it, humping yourself on his finger because it’s not enough.

“Satoru,” you beg, clutching his bicep when he adds another finger in. “More.”

His fingers are so long, hitting places that your small ones could never reach. He begins to scissor his way in, his fingers deliciously rubbing against your velvety walls while pumping them inside and out in a speed that causes you to squelch around him.

It’s absolutely lewd how you’re eagerly spread out before him, but your head is clouded with lust, no longer hindered by shyness out of your need to cum. Your chest is rising heavily, his thumb now rubbing against your clit as he coaxes you to cum. “Tell me what you want, baby,” he kisses your cheeks, eyelids, nose, anywhere but your lips, his voice so gentle and innocent as if he’s not knuckle deep inside you. “Tell me how you want me.”

“Inside,” you whine, gasping when he brushes against a really sensitive spot that has you clamping down on him. “‘Toru, fuck, just fuck me.”

“Beg for it,” he smiles against your skin, relentless and harsh as he keeps pushing inside you. You feel him everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Another finger adds in until you’re dripping enough on his palm and staining the couch, but neither of you care. “I said, beg for it.”

“No,” you hold back, nearly crying out when he pulls your fingers out of you. That sudden emptiness is back again, but you don’t want to beg. You’ve never begged another man before, and this won’t be the first time you’ll be doing so either. You refuse to let him have the upper hand despite the crystal clear fact you’re already soaking wet for him, but because you’re stubborn, you only fumble with his sweatpants to spring his cock free.

He’s already dripping with pre-cum from the slit, his cock hard and angry. Despite his arousal, Satoru stops you from going further, using only one hand to trap both your wrists. “Beg for it,” he demands again, his other fist already pumping down on his shaft.

You nearly cry at the sight. Both of you are aware that Satoru is capable of pleasuring himself, but it’s not that easy for you. Your small, dainty fingers will never be parallel to the pleasure his long cock could give you. All you had to do was beg for it. He’s right there, within reach, if only you’d just –

Impatient for your answer, Satoru takes you by the hips and discards your hoodie in the process, sinking you down his cock, inch by delicious inch. You don’t hold back from the sensual and high-pitched moan that leaves your lips. He’s long, and the tip of his cock just about brushes your cervix when he bottoms out. He feels so good, so warm and huge and filling you up right where you want him to be. Your head falls down on his shoulder as you begin to roll your hips, but Satoru has had enough.

“Fuck, look at you,” he presses on the bulge of his cock visible through your abdomen. “You’re so fucking small – how do you take me so well? I could ruin you. Do you want that? Do you want me to ruin you?”

“Yes, yes, fuck.”

“You think you can just leave me hanging like that, huh?” he slaps your ass, eliciting another moan from you and making you clench around his cock. Satoru falters for a moment. Before you can react, he stands up, your legs wrapped around his waist with nothing but his tip hitting inside you. “You’ve been so fucking mean – leaving me wanting you like that and ignoring me for days. Do you think you deserve this, huh?” Satoru kicks his door open at the same time he loosens his hold around your ass, making you slide down his length the next second.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out just as Satoru begins to bounce you, your breasts following the motion of him fucking deep into you. “Fuck, Toru, that’s too—”

He’s so eager to fuck you, to make a mess out of you and have you losing your mind over his cock that he doesn’t even wait until you’re both on the bed. You no longer register when your back hits the pillow, or how your arms are frozen when he pins it above your head.

“You’re so beautiful,” he praises as he watches you clench around him. You’re so small and his eyes zero in on the way your abdomen bulges then flattens again every time he pounds into you, rolling his hips in a way that has you screaming and thighs quaking. “Beautiful, beautiful, perfect,” the moment his hands grip at your hips to pin you down, you know he’s not going to stop. And you don’t want him to.

Satoru latches his lips around your right breast, gently grazing his teeth over it while his other hand pinches and rolls the pebbled nipple between his fingers. He feels so good – and you’re crying already by the time you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer.

The room is filled with the smell of sex, the sound of skin slapping against skin combined with his breathy grunts and your moans like heaven on his ears. Satoru wants you to feel how much he loves you – how much he adores you – and the pace he sets is torturous. He snaps his hips against yours and presses down on the bulge of his cock through your belly, chuckling when you tighten more around him.

Your head lols to the side, tears falling down your pretty face because of how rough he’s being. But you don’t complain, not when he’s filling you in so deep and he’s kissing you everywhere, touching you everywhere, making you feel nothing else and nobody else but him.

“You’re amazing,” he rasps, watching the way your tight cunt sucks him in greedily as if you don’t want him to go anywhere else. “You take me in so well – you really want me to destroy you, huh?”

“Satoru, please,” you finally plead, “I-I’m cumming, I want you, I need you, oh,” you squeal when he finally lets your arms free. You look so precious, so innocent, and he doesn’t let up his pace. He plants his feet into the ground and his strokes begin to grow sloppy, your tight walls encouraging him to go faster, go deeper.

If possible, Satoru is only even more fuelled with the way you look so precious and innocent in that moment. His touch is gentle in comparison to the way he’s mercilessly plowing into you, using his thumb to wipe away the tears streaming down your cheeks. He knows he’s too big for you, that much is obvious from how much you’re already overstimulated just by his size, but your nails sink down on the flesh of his ass as a silent plead for more.

“Fuuuuck, I’m so close!”

“Yeah?” He fondled your clit, loving the sight of your small body creaming down on his cock. “Come for me, sweet girl. I want to feel you coming on my cock. Come on, tell me you’re mine. You’re made me for aren’t you?”

“Yes, Satoru, fuck,” you squeal, throwing your head back for a second when he keeps hitting your g-spot that has you seeing stars. Your toes curl and your hands fist the sheets behind you as he keeps impaling you with his cock right then and there.

You looked perfect; so perfect to him that he’s basically using you for his own pleasure at this moment. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, back arching and nipples brushing against his chest.

In that moment, you grow needy to have him even closer, tilting up to blindly search for his lips. Satoru complies; leaning down and leaving open mouthed breathy kisses that’s a mix of you moaning and crying around him, while he struggles to do so when he’s cursing at the feeling of you coating his cock with your juices. Satoru looks down at your tiny frame trapped in his arms, his voice husky as he groans once he saw both of your arousal absolutely leaking out of your wet cunt.

He’s so close but you’re already over the edge, scratching at his back at the overstimulation. You’re still so sensitive from when you came and Satoru doesn’t slow one down one bit. He loses his rhythm as his thrusts go sloppy, and Satoru buries his face in your neck as his cock twitches inside you until he bursts with his cum leaking out of your hole.

Satoru’s arms give out beneath you, his chest colliding with yours but not enough that he’s crushing you with his weight. You’re both breathing hard and panting, his dick softening inside you.

He pulls back a moment later to slide out his sensitive cock, wincing while he watches pools of cum gather in your pussy before it drips out. It isn’t until he’s witnessing the mess he’s made he realizes how you’ve been so good for him; taking him all the way in despite your quivering frame. It dawns on him now just how tiny you are when he pulls you close to him; you’re practically hanging off his chest with how small your body is.

He wonders how you’re able to fit all of him, but he’s grateful nevertheless. Satoru shows his appreciation by peppering kisses all over your face, his hand snaking down to caress your inner thighs.

“Hmm,” you moan into the kiss, jolting when his knuckles brush against your sensitive clit. “Satoru, no,” you whine while pushing his hand away, and he shushes you with another kiss. “’M too sensitive, please...”

“It’s fine, cupcake, it’s fine,” his nickname for you is back again, and you lean closer to him just as he begins to massage your sore legs. “You did so well for me, cupcake, you know that? You’re such a good girl for me,” too fucked out to have a comprehensive answer, you only nod in response, spreading your legs open again and ignoring the warm stickiness between your thighs as Satoru kneads your abused flesh. You feel him kiss your temple before he leaves to get a towel and cleans you up. Meanwhile, you’re so tired you’re about to doze out in his bed.

“Hey,” he soothes, bundling you up in his arms until you’re tucked in the safety of his body. So small, he coos inside his head, watching as you fold yourself even smaller while your eyes flutter. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you sigh into his shoulder, “I feel good. Thank you.”

Satoru doesn’t really know what you’re thanking him for. He feels like he’s the one who’s mostly indebted to you after everything you’ve done for him. You’ve already fallen asleep before he gets the chance to tell you how he feels, so Satoru only covers you both under his blanket, making sure there’s no more space between you out of fear you’ll distance yourself from him again.

But he doesn’t have to worry about that because you’re right next to him, and you’re never out of reach.

[stopeatingwhales]

football hysteria x damon albarn

I LOVED THIS SM LMAO !!!!!!!! football obsessed damon is so cute

Pairing: 90s damon albarn x reader

Warnings: noneeee

Word count: 2.281

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

"Who you supporting?" Graham asked me, handing me a beer as he sat himself beside me on the couch next to me in the middle, Damon sat on the opposing side. Damon had dragged me over to Graham's house to watch the Man City and Chelsea game tonight, and knowing just how competitive Damon came to football, I knew it was better that I simply went along with things rather than moan about how much I really didn't want to spend two hours watching two teams pass around a ball for entertainment.

"Erm, Man City." I replied, quickly flicking the can open to taste the bittersweet barley flavouring of the heineken beer as it embellished the walls of my mouth.

"You don't support Chelsea?" Damon questioned, his eyebrows furrowed.

A small chuckle left my mouth. “Of course I don't, they're shit." I sneered, aware of the havoc that my statement was going to cause. Immediately, Damon's mouth fell agape; stunned by my malevolence, as well as partial shock from the new-found information surrounding my opinions on football.

Graham's laughter rang through the room and my ears as my eyes continued to burn into Damon's piercing gaze, him just as amused as I was. Nobody was as big a football fan as Damon had become. "They're anything but shit," he continued, eyebrows now raised as he scoffed. "You're telling me that you support Man City? Gallagher-brother-Man-City?"

"Okay I'm going to sit between you both,'' Graham announced, swiftly standing up, shoving my body to the side he had just accompanied, placing his body between me and Damon, a blockade to prevent either of us going at each other's throats. "Just so we can all be alive by the end of it."

“Well I wouldn't have fucking invited her over if I knew she supported those manic twats, Graham."

"Piss right off Damon, we're in Graham's flat, not yours." I bit back, completely unphased by his childlike behaviour. It had been made quite apparent to the media that Chelsea were indeed the band dominated by the south, as well as Blur, and Man City were celebrated in the north by Oasis. However, it was quite comical noticing the immediate flush of anger that filled Damon's face after my sly comment. Leaning back into the loveseat, my back adorned the soft feel of the cushion behind me. "Graham, who do you support?" I asked, curiosity laced in my words as the football pitch came into view on the television screen - initiating the beginning of the match.

My eyes were focused on Graham as I watched him toss his glasses onto the coffee table in front of us, which had been cascading with countless bags of crisps and other treats to keep us stuffed as the ninety-minute match played through. "In all honesty, I'm not that phased with football," he began, reaching over to open a bag of crisps. "It's Damon here who's completely obsessed with it."

As the match began, tensions were already built to a high degree between the three of us. Small but meaningless comments had been thrown into the atmosphere of the apartment, merely portraying our silliness and how neither of us had seemingly outgrown the competitive side of our personalities, something that would be more apparent during teenage years. Unfortunately however, very early into the game, Damon's supporting team had decided to skillfully snatch the ball from one of the players, eventually managing to get it into the goal - portraying the first goal scored subsequent to the game's start.

Damon instantaneously rose at the goal, shouting loud enough for the neighbours to hear every single word that rumbled out of his throat. "Told you we were bett-" he said, smugness intertwined between his words so effortlessly, though shamefully his words had been cut off by the sound of the cushion, once placed behind me, now hitting his face. I couldn't help but allow a tiny smirk to illustrate itself on my facial features as I admired his face dripping in absolute bewilderment towards my actions. “What the fuck was that for?” he scoffed, falling back into his side of the sofa, as I sustained the grin on my face, watching him. The atmosphere that was once overflowing with hostility was now completely serenaded with Damon's egocentric giggles, forcing my body to hunch into a sulk at how quickly my team had been warranting for a loss so early into the match.

Mid-way through the game, Graham had decided to go to the corner shop by his apartment to get more beers for us to share, due to us having run out to share between the three of us. I dreaded being alone in the room with the game ongoing with Damon present, full-well knowing that his upbeat jolliness would attempt to torment me upon the fact that he was winning, which, to my demise, was exactly what had occured. The air fell still in the room once the sound of the door slamming etched through the flat walls, my gaze focused entirely on the match following on the screen, attempting to focus my mind on anything but the room that I was currently occupied in - though my peripheral noticed Damon's head almost instantly turned to look in my direction once it was made evident that Graham wasn’t inside the flat anymore. As if reading my mind, he decided to shift his body weight, which was once adorned to the other armrest of the burgundy couch, right next to me, where he attempted to wrap his arm around my shoulders, warming me into an embrace. In spite of this, I could feel his intense stare on my features. Using all my strength to avoid connecting eyes with him, I wasn’t going to admit defeat so easily, my stubbornness proving a point.

Once Damon realised, he carried on watching the game, however his body had continued it's embrace with mine. At one point, I was thinking that the match was going to be a lost cause from the performance shown by Chelsea, However, things began to turn around, and Man City managed to score a goal, to Damon's consternation. The sudden win resulted in me lunging from my seat, swiftly detaching myself from Damon, my whole body cheering towards the goal as it replayed on the screen. What was amusing was that, after I had finished my applause, I noticed that Damon had moved back into his seat by the side of the couch, distancing himself from me. "Aw, you don't want to sit with me anymore?" I sarcastically questioned, not waiting for an answer as a small smile crept on my lips. It was very amusing, pissing Damon off. I must say, watching his ego deflate into nothing but a simple sulk at the corner of a room was really the sight.

"What did I miss?" The sound of graham's voice sounded through the room, paired with the clank of multiple beer bottles as he reached into the plastic carrier bag to place them on the table. Each and every one had an individual water-streak pattern, indicating that they had just been chilled - when they taste best.

"Man City scored!" I exclaimed, reaching out for one of the glass bottles as I got the bottle opener to unfasten it from its metal clasp, promptly taking a swig from the beverage. The intent was, of course, to provide Graham with the extra knowledge upon the events that occurred during the match whilst he was absent, however knowing myself, I had also wanted to remind Damon of said occurrences, to surge him to the edge of his frustration. Exclaiming it at the top of my lungs held just enough power to do just that.

A chuckle immediately left Graham's mouth from my enthusiasm. "Need me to sit between you both again?" He jokingly asked, yet an element of seriousness was laced between his words.

“Depends if Damon's gonna stop sulking or not.” I replied, focusing my view on the game playing on the screen.

"You're the one who was fucking throwing the cushions!" Damon shouted, reaching over to grab himself a beer.

"Because you were pissing me off!" I answered, shifting my gaze onto Damon, who was, to my surprise, staring directly at me. There was a certain look of annoyance glazed on his features, though the agitation seemed to subside as soon as we locked stares, as if he was longing for my eyes to bear their sight toward him, as if it was an examination, an analysation to confirm whether we were still on good terms or not; of course we were, while conflicting preferences drew evident tears between us during that moment in particular. After a few seconds had passed, Damon leaned back into the cushion, carrying on watching the game unfold, satisfied with his response from my eyes. Switching my gaze over to Graham, I took notice of a look of question illustrated on his features, to which I decided to mime that it was alright, in order to move myself next to Damon once again. It would've been a lie, and a mere understatement, to say that I hadn't missed his arms around me.

Bunching up next to him, enough space was made to allow graham to sit himself down next to me, though that thought was the last passing my mind; my body was shivering from nervousness, the close proximity between us, regardless of our romantic acquaintance, never failed to bloom butterflies at the pit of my stomach. Due to my body's weight pressing down onto the cushion next to him, it was obvious that he was aware that I moved to sit next to him - but at a cause of his stubbornness, him averting all his attention onto me, admiring me as if I was the only living being in the apartment, a home that hadn't even belonged to me, would never happen - it would take much more to result in his feign of irritation to melt away. Placing my arm around his shoulder, I granted my hand to reach up to his beautiful head of hair, my fingers caressing his strands gently as I brushed any parts that were sticking out on the sides of his head. His arms were wrapped around one another, like a child encompassed in an angry stupor at their parent due to them not allowing them a packet of sweets from the grocery store, though I was playing at his heartstrings, aware of just how much he adored me playing with his dirty blonde locks.

For a short sum of time, we both sat there, my hands never halting their actions. The next few minutes of the game played out of continuous dribbling and passing to other teammates, oftentimes resulting in the other team taking hold of the ball and running around with it for a while until their attempt to score. Randomly, Damon's arm had released itself from its shared embrace with the other, engulfing my body with his as he encased his left arm around my shoulders. We were in a sense of comfort with one another, though from Damon's avoidance of my stare it was made obvious that he was still in the least carrying a small element of annoyance, nevertheless, as I allowed my eyes to linger onto his delicate, paradisiacal features, holding back a grin was seen much easier said than done, a small curvature sneaking itself on his lips.

"Look who's won." Graham mumbled, his voice detaching me out of my trance that I was enamoured in.

A laugh rang itself out of my throat as I admired the lengthy team cheering as they enveloped one another in a massive embrace. "Told you they were better!" I grinned as I diverted my gaze onto Damon, the same look of frustration painted on his demeanour, still avoiding his eyes on me. "You want a kiss?" I asked, tilting my head in order to make sure I was the main thing in his sight, knowing he wouldn't be able to keep up his facade so easily. "Kiss kiss?"

I continued until his eyes met mine. It was as if, for a short segment of time we were frozen in place, momentary seconds passing of us merely marvelling at the view illustrated forth one another, my hands snaking their way around his neck as I leaned in slightly, noticing his blue orbs fall onto my lips, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as his mind wandered through fields of appraisal. It was then where I couldn’t hold resistance for any longer, and I doubted that Damon could, bringing my head forward as I let my lips latch onto his, allowing time to flow as they lingered still before he kissed me back with gentle force, enough to notify me of his desire that encompassed him just as much as me. The kiss held innocence, portrayed adoration in its true beauty, nevertheless, also embodying eagerness, a yearning of lust.

"I'm going to be honest," I mumbled, removing my lips away from his, panting as I attempted to recollect my breath. "I don't actually support Man City."

"Of course you fucking don't." Damon laughed, our lips connecting once again as he perched his head forward, intoxicating me with the very thing that I desired most in that significant moment.

"If you're gonna shag, please go home." Graham groaned, causing our bodies to jolt at the sudden awareness that we weren’t alone together. Pulling away instantly, a wave of embarrassment covered my cheeks as we looked at one another, infatuation the single thing flowing out of our eyes.

“Sorry Graham.”

[secndlife]

[5:47pm]

"Do you want me to bring you anything?” You asked Soonyoung, phone glued to your ear, while grabbing a pack of rice from the shelf. You spent the afternoon running some errands, groceries being the last one of your tasks.

He thought about it for a second, “Kimchi?” Of course.

“I already ordered it from that small shop you like,” you informed him, eyes scanning your cart to check if you had all you needed.

“Oh, okay! I’ll pick it up to—ouch!” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. What was he doing?

“Stop moving and it won’t hurt!” You heard someone say in the background.

No. Not someone. Krys. Your chest automatically moved as you sighed. Soonyoung and Krys unsupervised never meant anything good. You stopped walking, standing still by the grain section.

“Soonyoung?” You asked, voice gentle. He hummed in response. “What is Krys doing there?” You had no idea what could she possibly be doing there on a Saturday evening. Weekends were, as she liked to call, Seokmin days. So when you heard her voice echoing through your apartment, your senses tingled.

Someone almost bumped at you, making it pretty clear you were in the way. You gave the young man an apologetic look, trying to focus now on whatever excuse Soonyoung was about to offer. “Nothing?” He sounded unsure. Shy, even. Like a child that’s about to get busted.

You rubbed your temples, “Krys is never doing nothing. Especially with you.” They were partners in crime.

“You’ll see when you get home?” Uncertainty, again.

Another long breath escaped you. “Can you just please don’t get slime on the ceiling like that one time?”

He laughed and you felt almost calm. Almost. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Should I be concerned?” You asked, genuinely curious.

“Will you not be concerned if I tell you there’s no reason to be concerned?”

Krys snorted in the background, “Of course she won’t. She doesn’t trust us!”

Your eyes went to the back of your head, “Hey! Can she hear me? If not, tell her to shut up.”

He ignored your banter, “Will you?”

You really wanted to say yes. No one would believe you, though. “No.”

Your boyfriend giggled, “Then be concerned and when you come home you’ll see it’s not a big deal and relax.”

“Just—”

“It’s not slime, and we won’t break anything, ok? Finish doing the groceries, and we’ll see you soon.”

You bit the insides of your cheek, “Do you promise there’s no sli—”

“Love you, bye.”

And then he hung up. Just like that. Plain and simple. You sighed dramatically, staring at the various types of rice in front of you, trying to come up with a scenario where the two of them are alone and doing something that wouldn’t end up in someone getting hurt or in a mess you’d have to fix. Nothing. You guessed you’d just have to go home and see with your own eyes.

The drive from the market to your apartment seemed long. Too long. You probably shouldn’t be this worried. Whatever the two of them were doing was most likely fixable. You’d just have to put on the big girl pants and manage it, like always.

It was just that they were one and the same. Both too impulsive, too often. You loved them despite and because of it. But it was also something that could give you massive headaches whenever they were left alone together.

When you put your keys in the lock, you let out one last breath before you were actually ready to face whatever was expecting you. As you moved the bags inside, you heard footsteps approaching you.

“Hi, bestie.” Krys said, with a sneaky smile across her lips.

You raised an eyebrow at her while closing the door behind you. “What did you do to my boyfriend this time?”

The woman huffed, “Can you stop acting as if I’m some sort of mastermind behind evil plans?”

“Aren’t you?” You said, walking inside, eyes quickly moving through the place in the hopes of finding Soonyoung and whatever mess they had made.

She chased after you, a hand reaching for your arm. “Am not. He is equally involved in everything.” You got confused by her grip, but didn’t really say anything, simply allowing her to drag you further into the living room. “Sit.”

“What for? Where is Soonyoung?” You were feeling agitated.

She somewhat managed to make you follow her orders, legs hitting the comfortable fabric of your couch. “Can you wait, please?”

You shook your head, “No. I want to know what you did.”

Krys rolled her eyes, “For the record, this was his idea. And stop being dramatic, you will actually thank me this time.”

“I doubt it,” you said with a laugh.

She ignored it, confidence very clear in her tone. “Close your eyes, I’ll go get your furry boyfriend.”

“He’s not a furry!”

“Yeah, yeah.” She stood there, facing you, waiting for you to do as you had been told. “C’mon, close them. Otherwise, I won’t bring the furry.”

It was your turn to huff, “Stop calling him that!” When you realized she wouldn’t bulge, you placed your hands over your eyes. “Fine.”

Krys smiled, triumphantly, “You’ll love this.” You could hear her walking away and, for some reason, your heart started beating faster.

“Do you think she’ll like it?” You heard Soonyoung ask her not long after. You guessed that wasn’t for you to hear, but he had never done a good job when it came to concealing words, anyway.

You figured she reassured him some other way as you didn’t hear her voice until she spoke to you again. “Okay, as much as I want to see your reaction, furry guy is too excited, so I think I’ll let you two enjoy this moment alone.”

“Did you buy him a tiger suit? Because if you did I swear—”

“I’ll wait for your thank you text.” You heard something that sounded like hands clapping, guessing they had just high-fived each other. Idiots. “Go get her.”

Not long after, you heard the door closing once again, taking that as your cue. “Soo? Can I—”

“No!” He said, perhaps a bit too loud, before you could move your hands.

“What’s going on?” You whined. “I’m getting worried.”

The man chuckled, “Getting?”

“Please, let me look.” You were practically begging now. A thousand scenarios had crossed your mind already, and you were going crazy at this point because you couldn’t really think of anything besides Krys buying him a goddamn tiger suit.

Soonyoung let out a breath in an attempt to ease his nervousness. This wasn’t that big of a deal. He was sure you’d love him anyway. Still, he really, really hoped you’d like it. He whispered, “You can look now.”

Your boyfriend had barely finished speaking when you started uncovering your eyes. You were met with something you weren’t expecting. He was smiling. Big. He looked different, too. It was almost as if your heart had skipped a beat. Words were failing you, so you struggled to manage mumbling something cohesive. “Oh!”

“Is it bad?” He pouted.

“What? No!” You said, truthfully. You then stood up, standing in front of him. “I guess I just thought it’d be something else.”

He chuckled, “You think too low of Krys and I.”

“I have my reasons.” You brushed your fingers through his hair. “You look amazing. Like, really fucking good.”

He was blond.

Could that even be considered blond? It was actually more leaning towards white and, if you looked at it close enough, there were subtle hints of purple on the background tone. Apparently, Krys came not long after you left earlier, bringing the necessary equipment to support Soonyoung in his newest decision. She always had his back. He said she bleached it and styled it before you came home, being well aware of how weak you were for side parted hair, and a couple of strands falling over his eyes Soonyoung.

“Do you like it?” He sounded timid. Almost as if he was too scared to ask. He was always the confident one. Still, when it came to you, Soonyoung was often like an insecure teenager that wanted nothing more but to impress his crush.

You nodded, “I love it.” You weren’t a big fan of blond men, always being the one to go for dark haired ones. Still, much like with many other things, Soonyoung was a decisive and welcoming change of opinion. You wrapped your arms around his neck while his went instinctively to one of the places he called home - your waist.

When you didn’t say anything for a bit, he took his chance to tease. “I see it made you speechless.”

You smiled, “It just kinda reminds me of the first picture I saw of you.”

Seeing Soonyoung with the same hairstyle he had when you were first introduced to his remarkable features, even if only through an Instagram post, gave you butterflies. It took you back to when you barely even knew who he was. To when you were, unknowingly, falling for his eyes for the first time. It felt new and, at the same time, familiar.

You took some time to just admire him. To take in how good he looked. To allow him to read, in your eyes, how much you loved him. To let your heart go back to its usual rhythm. To understand that, now, this was a different Soonyoung than the one you first saw on Doki’s phone. That this Soonyoung was as in love with you as you were with him. That this Soonyoung was as yours as you were his.

“I didn’t look this hot back then.” He said, lips curving in a smug smirk.

You laughed, “You definitely didn’t. I don’t know how, but you manage to look better and better every day.” Your fingers danced against the hair on his nape. “This just makes you even hotter.”

He pulled you closer, welcoming the sudden ego boost. “Hot enough for you to let me fuck you right here, right now?”

You stared into his eyes and felt something twist inside you. He raised his eyebrows as if he was waiting for a confirmation he could push you up against a wall and make you moan his name within minutes.

You smiled his favorite smile, face already mere millimeters away from his. “Yeah.”

While you were lost in his kisses and moans and bites, your phone was buzzing by your pocket.

[5:47pm] Krys: you’re only excused from not texting me thank you if you’re fucking your newly blond boyfriend :)

a/n: yes this is another mmf!soonyoung thing. am i still obsessed with this universe? yes. am i planning/writing another long ass fic about it? yes. will i post small drabbles that fit between the timeline for mmf 1 and 2 while i work on part 2? probably. anyway! when he first showed up blond recently i almost died bc i’m such a black haired supremacist and he was looking SO GOOD with the previous hair i was kinda bitter. but. now. you know. he knocked me down. he did that. he is so sexy. blond/white soonyoung is so sexy. so yeah! no explanation, just sexy blondish soonyoung. also, for the sake of writing, let’s pretend you can actually go from black to his current haircolor in a day without going bald. as usual,my askbox is always open even tho i now apparently suck at answering asks. sorry about that. I WILL WORK ON IT !!! yeah so! i hope you’ll enjoy it mwah

[speechlessxx]

Naïveté (Ransom Drysdale x Reader)

Summary: Ransom loves control and his sweet, innocent plaything doesn’t know better. 

Warnings: DARKish Ransom with hints of soft Ransom but not really, this fic is lowkey a mess, a little uncomfortable situations, unprotected sex, implied AGE GAP, angst, mutual obsession, choking, Ransom is a little off (but what’s new), Sugar Daddy/Baby relationship, innocent reader, implied Dom/Sub dynamic, loss of virginity, poorly written attempt at SMUT

Word Count: 4.7k

Please do not read if anything makes you uncomfortable. 

READ WARNINGS

This is my first time writing smut. Please don’t hate me. 

Something a little different from what I usually write (?)

“You’re not going to see him again, are you?” your friend, Joey, asked you. Worried, judgmental lines sprinkled across his young face as he stared at you. You frowned and shook your head as you brought the straw of your iced coffee to your lips. “Good.” He muttered. “That guy was a creep.”

“He's not that bad,” you argued. 

“(Y/N), he was the worst thing that could’ve ever happened to you,” Joey scoffed as he drank his drink. “I’m just glad you kicked him to the curb before things got too intense.” 

You stayed silent and nodded, taking another sip from the straw. Joey began to talk about your friend group’s evening plans to hit up this bar, but your mind was taking you somewhere else.

You couldn’t tell Joey the truth. It’d disappoint him. It would anger him and jeopardize your friendship. 

But you couldn’t admit that Ransom Drysdale had a hold on you, and you didn’t want him to let go.

As an aspiring writer, you were interning at Blood Like Wine Publishing under Ransom’s uncle, Walt Thrombey. In a twisted turn of events, Walt took a liking to you.

Your doe-eyes and bright optimism intrigued him. He always fluttered around you like a moth to a flame and always had off-putting conversations with you.

It started with his hands on your shoulders, rubbing them in a way that made you uneasy. Then, it was pushing your hair to the side to expose the back of your neck, or his hands that would slither down to the small of your back. Everything about the man made you uncomfortable, but you’d never spoke out against it in fear of losing your internship. 

One day, Walt invited you over to his grandfather’s manor. “A family party,” he explained. And though you were afraid of accepting – calling it an intrusion – Walt insisted. “A chance to meet a world-renowned author,” he said. How could you refuse?

You met Ransom at that party. From the moment you walked through the doors, he knew he had to have you. He was a brat that way.

Walt was too preoccupied with arguing with his father to introduce you to the family. So, you kept to yourself, finding sanctuary in Harlan’s nurse, Marta, who looked just as out of place as you did. 

Unbeknownst to either of you, Ransom was listening in on your conversation – stalking you as if you were his prey.

Marta had explained to you that she was very fortunate to work with Harlan and that he was a kind man. Ransom couldn’t help but rolled his eyes when Marta had brought up how she and his grandfather were great friends. Blah, blah, blah, he thought as she droned on.

Then, he heard you open up about yourself. 

About how your scholarship was barely covering your tuition and how you were too late to apply to housing, so you had to live off campus in a ratty apartment whose rent was too much to handle on a monthly basis. You told Marta about how your part-time job at the local coffee shop next to campus was barely paying you enough for groceries, let alone the rest of your expenses.

The gears inside Ransom’s devious mind began to turn as a plan started to form in his head.

When Marta had been whisked away into a conversation about immigration with his father, Ransom found the perfect opportunity to meet you.

“I’m Ransom,” he introduced.

“(Y/N),” you greeted, offering your hand. He took it and brought it to his lips. Your cheeks flushed. Where all the Thrombey men this welcoming - this comfortable?Ransom smirked at your reaction.

Similar to his uncle, his hand found its way to the small of your back as he maneuvered you to the back door. Perhaps, it was simply a Thrombey gesture?

It was easy to navigate through a conversation with you. You were a good listener, Ransom was a great talker. The conversation went by smoothly as Ransom droned on and on about himself (something he was really good at). 

“I have too much money. I don’t know what to do with myself,” Ransom had joked, steering the conversation in his favor.

You chuckled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I wish I had that problem.” Ransom responded with a hum, encouraging you to open up about your financial troubles (though he knew it all from eavesdropping earlier).

“I think I have the perfect solution to both our troubles,” Ransom proposed. 

And the rest was history. 

-=+=-

No one close to you knew the exact extent of the relationship. You tried to create the narrative that you met Ransom through Walt and the relationship just blossomed.

You were embarrassed to admit that Ransom was paying your rent, tuition, and giving you a weekly allowance that helped you get by.

Joey had even joked that working for the Thrombeys was changing you when he noticed your sudden change in labels. You had forgone the Forever 21 sales section and wore the luxury brands that Ransom deemed worthy to be draped over his angel.

When your friends met Ransom - the man keeping you afloat by sharing his own riches – they knew something was up. Though they didn’t have a clue about the financial aspect of the relationship, they knew that Ransom was bad news.

They’d tell you he stared at you like a piece of meat. He’d watch your every move as if he were engraving your very image in his mind. Joey would tell you he didn’t like the way Ransom had a grip on you every time you were together. 

“He’s possessive and not in a cute way,” Joey warned you, but you shrugged him – and all your friends – off.

You’d tell them that Ransom loved you... But were you trying to convince them or yourself?

Your friends saw through Ransom. They saw how he was taking advantage of your innocence and your naivete.

When you told Ransom of your friends’ opinions, he told you to ignore it, so you did. But as time went on, it was clear that their reluctance to be accepting of the relationship bothered you. You blamed it on the age difference. (You were still in college and Ransom was in his mid-thirties). But it was more than that and your friends didn’t quite know how to explain it to you. You were just so in love with the guy - who were they to dictate your love life? They just cared about your well being. 

So, Ransom commanded that you lie to everyone. “Tell them we broke up,” Ransom told you. “Just a fib to get them off your back.” When you showed reluctance, Ransom said with pleading eyes, “do it because I love you.”

You were always too trusting for your own good.

But you couldn’t see that. You saw Ransom as your white knight – your savior. He made sure whatever balance your scholarship left was paid for. He even got you out of that ratty apartment and into a better one that was worth the expensive rent. It was closer to campus, too, so you didn’t have to ride the bus. He kept you fed and clothed. Ransom kept you afloat. 

You were afraid to let him go – afraid that his interest would fade, and another girl would be the apple of his eye. What would happen to you then? So, you tried to become everything Ransom wanted. You depended on him after all...

Just like he planned it.

-=+=-

The ride was silent. The text on your phone read Harlan’s manor. Need you here. NOW.

The driver asked you if you wanted him to turn on the radio. He was just as eager to ease the tension, so you gladly obliged. When he arrived at the family manor, he even told you, “good luck, miss.”

You gave him a nervous smile. What were you stepping into? (And were you prepared for the aftermath?).

You didn’t bother to knock on the door. He was already waiting outside for you. A cigarette in his hand. You frowned as he extinguished it against the brick wall.

“Ransom, hey,” you offered him a smile.

He didn’t return it. He had a scowl on his face and something on his mind. His face scrunched up in aggravation. He only gave you a hard stare. His blue eyes staring at you in the dark night.

He eyed you up and down. You wore a white lace dress from whatever designer (he didn’t care). He liked white on you and you knew that. It made you look like an angel – his angel. A symbol of purity – something you naturally were.

“You’re late,” he said. His voice was hard, matching the expression etched on his face. Hard and disapproving.

“I… I was with Joey,” you explained. “He was getting suspicious, so we went on a coffee date – “

“Did I ask?” Ransom snapped. “It’s part of the agreement. You make yourself available to me 24/7. That’s why I pay you so much.” You gulped as you adverted your eyes, unable to hold his angry glare for too long. He let out a sigh and held out his hand. You glanced at him, uncertainty written all over your face. “I’m not going to wait forever, (Y/N).”

“Sorry,” you muttered and took his hand. Ransom pulled you to him. His lips smashed against yours and you cringed at the faint smell of smoke.

You put your hands on his shoulders, trying to push him away – trying to catch your breath. But his grip tightened. “Kiss back,” he muttered into the kiss, growing impatience at your insubordination. Reluctantly, you did as you were told. After long minutes of the uncomfortable session, he pulled away and eyed you again. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice hushed. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. “Why’d you asked me to come?”

“I was bored,” he shrugged. What he didn’t say was, there’s a situation I can’t handle, so I need something I can control around me or else I’ll lose my mind.

“So, I’m entertainment?” you joked, nervously. He laughed a bit. You looked into the house through the windows. You could hear faint chatter and cheers of happy birthday. “It’s someone’s birthday?” you asked.

“Harlan’s,” Ransom nodded.

“Oh, I should probably pop in and – “you began walking towards the door.

“Don’t,” Ransom ordered through clenched teeth, and you froze in your tracks. Your hand was grazing the cool metal of the doorknob. You pulled your hand away and walked back to stand in front of Ransom. “Good girl,” he muttered, an arm slinging itself around your waist. “We should get out of here.” He whispered, stealing another kiss from your sweet lips.

“My friends are at this bar tonight,” you offered. “We could stop by.”

“And let them know we’re seeing each other again?” Ransom laughed, dryly. “I’d rather not let them turn you against me.”

“No one could ever do that,” you assured him.

“Let’s go to my place,” Ransom muttered. “Something I want to show you.” He said as he nipped at the exposed skin of your neck. You yelped in surprise as a strange feeling shot through you.

Ransom has invited you over once or twice before. Most of your outings usually ended with him dropping you off at your apartment. He didn’t normally offer to take you to his place or swing by. The offer was spontaneous – different.

You smiled and nodded, not wanting to piss him off more than he already was.

He led you to his Beamer. The ride was silent, and Ransom didn’t bother to try to ease the tension. No music. No conversation. Just a hand that rubbed the inside of your thigh in a manner that unsettled you.

Sure, Ransom was handsy at times, but he kept his distance from your most intimate areas. He’d always had to have a hand on your waist or your hand gripped in his. The most he’s ever done to make you uncomfortable was when he wrapped his hand around your neck to keep you from turning away when he kissed you. That was it.

In truth, Ransom saw you like a delicate doll. Such purity and innocence should be maintained. But tonight, Ransom was losing control – his chat with Harlan left him spiraling. 

The only thing he still had control over was sitting in the passenger seat of his car.

-=+=-

His home was just as you remembered it. Large windows, large spaces, large rooms. It was clean, for the most part. A few clothing items discarded on the floor, some hung on chairs. He shrugged off his dark grey cardigan and hung it on one of the chairs, joining the other clothes.

Ransom led you straight into his kitchen. He fetched a beer and a bottle of water. You were never much of a drinker. Ransom knew that. He stared at you as you wrapped your lips around the bottle’s opening and drank it carefully. He was still deciding – trying to make up his mind.

Should he ruin his little plaything now? Or shall he wait?

“You said you wanted to show me something?” You asked.

He nodded. “It can wait.” He walked over to you. You were leaning against his kitchen island. He plucked the bottle from your hand, placing it to the side along with his beer, and brought his hands to your hips.

“Rans – umph!” You yelped as he effortlessly lifted you up onto the counter. “What are you doing?” You asked him with a small, nervous laugh. Your face heated up as each of his hands settled to both of your knees and spread them. When you tried to fight against his grips, Ransom just slotted his waist between your legs. “Ransom?” You asked as he placed one hand on your waist and the other at the back of your neck. He hummed quietly. His eyes didn’t meet yours. They simply stared are your lips. “What cha doin’ there?”

He didn’t respond. He captured your lips with his and you were too stunned to react, so you simply mirrored his actions.

Sometimes Ransom got like this. Sometimes he wouldn’t talk and he’d just assume you’d read his mind. But tonight, your minds weren’t in unison.

You were under the impression he just needed physical contact (which was true). You thought he just needed comfort and you were more than willing to give it to him.

But tonight, Ransom wanted something much more than simple kisses and a few touches.

You tried to pull away to catch your breath, but Ransom pulled you back. He licked at your bottom lip, wanting entrance, but you refused him. So, in retaliation, Ransom yanked your hair which made you yelp. He took the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth. He didn’t need to fight for dominance. You just sat there with your mouth open, unsure of what to do – unsure of how to react. He had never been physical with you – he had never tried to hurt you.

The kiss was heated. You wished it were passionate or loving, but it wasn’t that. It was something else entirely.

Desperate to catch your breath, you bit on his tongue. It was a mistake. One that you’d pay for. But you were desperate.

He pulled away suddenly. “What the fuck!” He snapped.

“I’m – I’m sorry, Ransom – I just,” you stammered, unable to explain yourself. “I – I couldn’t breathe. I’m sorry, Ransom.”

Your eyes finally met. His bright blue eyes were dark like the night sky. And it was then you understood what Joey and all your friends told you. He stared at you like he was starved and you were the only thing on the menu.

“You little, ungrateful bitch,” Ransom spat. One of his hands wrapped firmly around your throat, tightening slightly and cutting off your oxygen. “You breathe when I let you. You live because I let you. The clothes you wear, the food you eat, the fucking apartment you live in – it’s all because I gave it to you. You could at least show some appreciation.” 

His grip tightened until you could see tiny black dots peppering your vision. And then suddenly, Ransom let go.

You fell forward into Ransom. Your head in the crook of his neck and hands on his shoulder. You were coughing and sputtering out apologizes, unsure of what else to tell him.

“You’re gonna show me some appreciation, baby,” he cooed but his voice was nowhere near comforting. It was taunting. “Alright?” You nodded. “Okay, c’mon,” he hoisted you up. Panicked, you wrapped your arms around him and your legs around his torso, afraid he would drop you. “I got you, sweet angel… I got you.”

You weren’t sure where he was taking you until you were laid on soft, satin sheets. You opened your eyes and saw Ransom standing at the foot of the bed. He pulled his sweater from his body and you felt your jaw drop. Why would he hide his toned physique beneath sweaters? It was a mystery to you.

He smirked when he caught you ogling him. He was always so cocky.

“How?” you murmured. He cocked an eyebrow up at you. “How am I going to show you?”

Ransom’s smirk widened as he reached down for you. His fingers lightly traced the neckline of the dress. “I think you know,” he muttered. 

Your heart thudded against your chest in realization. You tried to scoot away from him, but Ransom leaned his body forward, encaging you.

“You don’t want to make me mad, baby, do you?” He whispered, his tone still taunting. His hot breath against your ear. You closed your eyes and shook your head. “Good. Because I don’t think you want me to take away all the nice things I’ve given you, right?” You nodded. “Take off the dress for me.” He ordered, releasing you.

You did as you were told, not wanting to make him angry. His breath hitched when you revealed yourself to him. He always knew you were beautiful. The idea of you being untouched – unclaimed – made blood flow straight to his member.

His expert fingers made quick work of your bra clasp. He discarded your brassiere along with his sweater and tutted at you when your hands instinctively went to cover yourself up. He pried your hands away from your chest. 

“Don’t cover yourself up, angel,” he told you, leaning forward and leaving a trail of sloppy, wet kisses down your neck. He kissed the bruises that were forming from his grip moments ago. He scolded himself for damaging the delicate skin of his angel.

He kissed down your collarbones and found his way to your breasts. He took his time worshiping your body. There was no rush (the night was still young). 

As his lips worked on one of your mounds, his fingertips toyed with the other. You couldn’t hold back the moans that were escaping you and the heat that presented itself in between your legs. 

Everything was so foreign to you. All you could do was toy with the hair on the back of Ransom’s head and moan his name.

He moved one of his hands to cup your clothed sex. He felt the increasingly dampening spot through the delicate material and moaned against your nipple. He stared up at you as he continued his assault. Your eyes were closed tightly and your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape as you continued to let out soft moans. The sound going straight to his crotch.

In one swift motion, Ransom was able to pull your underwear down your legs. The material fell to the floor and he kicked it to join the rest of the discarded clothing. He pulled away from you to admire your body, splayed out on his bed like an offering. Your cunt glistening in the pale moonlight, calling his name. He fumbled with his belt as he shoved his slacks along with his boxer briefs down.

Your eyes finally opened and were met with the intimidating appendage. Long and thick. Fear suddenly flooded through you. It wouldn’t fit. Was this worth it? Was surrendering your virginity to Ransom – your white knight, your savior – worth the luxury? Worth the money?

“Don’t be scared, angel,” Ransom muttered as he leaned over you. You were shaking. He shushed you as you thrashed around. “I give you so many things, baby girl,” he said lowly, his voice turning into a growl. “At least give me this in return.”

You sniffled before nodding. You were afraid though you weren’t sure what frightened you more. The menacing crazed look on Ransom’s beautiful face or the fear that you were about to lose your virginity.

Ransom’s hands traced the curves of your body, leaving goosebumps all over your skin. And then one of his hands carefully rubbed against your folds, finding your clit expertly. You felt your muscles clench. He rubbed it in tight circles, causing electricity to run through you. 

As much as Ransom was eager to be inside of you, he didn’t want to hurt his angel. He had to prep his sweet, innocent angel. He wanted his angel to enjoy this.

Your breathing was shaky as you slowly gave into the feeling. He shifted in his position and carefully thrusted two fingers into your cunt. You gasped at the sudden intrusion. You threw your head back as he stroked your inner walls, exploring your untried canal.

“You’re wet, angel, and we barely begun,” Ransom said ever so cockily. You moaned in response. No words could form. You tried to bite onto your bottom lip, trying to silence yourself. But Ransom tutted at you. He slapped your clit and you yelped in surprise. “I want to hear every sound.” He ordered before scissoring your opening, attempting to stretch you open. The wet, slick sounds accompanied by your moans were all too addicting to the man that hovered over you.

You felt helpless and pathetic. You were putty in his hands. He felt you clench around his fingers when he curled them, brushing against a certain spot. He smirked as he continued to play with that spot and thrusted a third finger into you. You mewled against him as your hands fisted the satin sheets.

“Ran – Ransom,” you panted, eyes watery. “Something’s – something’s happening…” you moaned as you felt a coil within your stomach snap. You screamed as your orgasm crashed through you. Ransom smirked watched you drip around his hand. He pulled away from your pussy and your eyes widened as he slowly brought his fingers to his lips and sucked away your juices.

“Want a taste?” he asked you. You didn’t respond as he brought one of his fingers and brushed it against your lips. He then leaned down and stole another hungry kiss, sharing your taste.

While you were distracted from your previous orgasm and from the kiss, Ransom pumped his member and lined it up with you.

Catching you off guard, he pushed in. You shuddered in pain, pulling your lips away from him as your eyes widened in pain. The stretch itself was unbearable.

He pushed his tip in and you nearly shrieked. “Ransom – “you whimpered. “It hurts – It hurts!”

Ransom simply shushed you and kissed your lips. “Relax, angel… just relax for me.” You tried to do as you were told but found it quite difficult. He continued to push in inch by inch and you were afraid he was never-ending. “You’re so tight,” he murmured against your lips. You bit your lip as tears started to prick in your eyes.

And finally, he bottomed out. You had never felt so full. You swore you could feel him in your stomach. 

Ransom looked down to where you were both connected and groaned. He loomed over your body as you willed your muscles to relax around him. “Hey, hey,” he said, softly, using one of his hands to turn you to face him. “You’re doing so good for me, baby,” he praised and began to pull out.

His strokes were gentle. Pulling out only a few inches before thrusting back in. Only when the pain begun to dull and your whimpers turned into moans again, did Ransom pick up the pace. The slapping of skin and his groans. Everything started to feel cloudy. You felt as if he were tearing you apart, but your body welcomed the pain that was turning into pleasure.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you hung onto him as he ravaged you. You continued to mewl and moan into his neck as you felt the same coil in your stomach tighten. Your walls clenched around Ransom and he knew you were close again. He reached back down to your clit and rubbed it again.

“C’mon, baby, come for me,” Ransom urged you as he thrusted. He thrusted all the way in and grinded against your sex. You moaned as you tensed, the coil bursting once again. Ransom groaned as you tightened around him like a vice, milking him and throwing him off the edge with you. He filled you up with his thick cum, but he continued to pump into you, painting your walls – marking you as his.

You were a breathless, sweaty mess as he pushed you into another orgasm with his thrusts. You were convulsing and twitching underneath him, fighting to stay conscious. You felt Ransom pull out completely and felt your mixed juices drip from your pussy. Your vision was hazy as your head turned to the side, eyes fluttering close.

Ransom winced when he looked down. Your blood covered his length and was splattered all over your lower body. He sighed and looked at the clock. It was late, but he knew that there would still be guests over at the house. It was the perfect time, especially with you falling asleep.

“You did so good for me, angel,” he whispered to your sleeping body as he wiped your blood away with his sweater. He decided that he’d deal with the bloodstained sheets when he returned. You were most likely still going to be knocked out. 

He pressed a kiss to your lips and smiled. Even in sleep – even after being fucked – you still looked like an angel.

When you awoke, the sheets had been changed but you were still stark naked. Daylight was trickling through the windows. Ransom emerged from the bathroom door. “You’re awake,” he smiled wickedly at you. You returned a shy smile when you realized he was only in a towel with water droplets painting his Adonis-like body. You looked away as he dressed himself. He smirked. You were still bashful as if the night before he wasn’t buried deep inside of you.

“Did you leave?” you ask. Your heart dropped at the thought.

He shook his head and relief washed over you as he sat next to you on the bed. His finger gently traced your jaw before leaning in to give you a kiss. “I was here all night, all morning, too,” Ransom lied. “You’ll attest to that right?”

“What?”

“I cleaned you up after we had sex,” Ransom told you. “Changed the sheets and then held you throughout the night. I told you I loved you and I thanked you for allowing me to be the first - and only - man inside of you .”

“Right.” You nodded, blushing at his words.

“I didn’t leave you, angel.” Ransom promised. “I was with you all night, all morning.”

-=+=-

“Where was Mr. Drysdale the night of his grandfather’s death?” the prosecutor asked you.

You looked around the courtroom and met Ransom’s blue eyes. He gave you a small nod, knowing you won’t let him down. He did this all for you – so that he can continue taking care of you – after all.

“Uh,” you muttered into the microphone, “he was with me… at his house.”

“Mr. Drysdale’s statement says that he asked you to join him at the manor the night of Harlan Thrombey’s birthday party, yet no one in the family saw you?”

You nodded. “Ransom – Hugh – was already outside when I arrived. I wanted to go inside, but he told me not to and he asked if I’d accompany him to his house.”

“So, you can account to Mr. Drysdale’s whereabouts the whole night?” The prosecutor prompted. “There were no times that he stepped out? Even when you were asleep?”

You nodded. “He was with me all night, all morning, too.”

Ransom smiled at you when you met his eyes. Good girl. He thought. His sweet little angel still under his control.

[kaylans-imagines]

trois: al dente

synopsis: Realising him, his daughter, and his housemates couldn’t live off fast food forever, Tom Holland joins a cooking class.

pairing: single dad! Tom Holland x single mum! reader

warnings: fluff, angst, no-no words, and absolute cuteness from one Miss Autumn Diana Holland and one Mister Lucas Peter Y/L/N.

an: I just want to thank you guys again for the love you have shown this series. it means the world to me. 

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al dente: cooked so it's still tough when bitten, often referring to pasta

meal: lasagne 

Tom had the best luck. He just had to run into Y/N when he looked ‘horrendous’ as Harry so kindly put it. He had been tasked with getting the groceries while his best mates did the cleaning, which was very much long overdue. Not wanting his young and impressionable daughter, with a knack for repeating words she overhead, Tom brought her along. She had asked him questions on the car ride to Tesco’s. He had given her the warning he always gave her to behave, not that he needed to, she was his perfect princess, and unstrapped her from her seat. 

He was given a list of things they needed for the house, most of it was nonsense, and he wouldn’t get them at all, but he figured he would humour them and get kid-friendly alternates. Setting Autumn into the trolley, he started his walk around the supermarket. Autumn hummed a tune from a show she was obsessed with and would often point out things that caught her attention. He was having a great time, listening to Autumn babble on about what happened at nursery and what Gretchen and Holly did to get in trouble, until he, quite literally, bumped into a familiar woman. Apologies spilt from his mouth before he saw who he bumped into. A familiar giggle stopped his rambling and caused him to look up, making eye contact with gorgeous glowing eyes. 

“Oh, God. Y/N, what are you doing here? That was a stupid question, you’re clearly shopping, I am so sorry,” he apologised before he smiled at her. She brushed him off and smiled, her eyes moving from his face towards the small little girl who sported a cheeky smile, her honey eyes wide and laced with amusement. She thrust her tiny hand towards her and motioned for the older woman to take it. 

“‘M Autumn, but daddy calls me Burrito. Who are you?” her bluntness caused a giggle to slip from Y/N’s lips and Tom to snap his head up to look at her in embarrassment. First, he bumps into her in the cereal aisle and now his three-year-old quite sassily asked her who she was. Sometimes he wished she didn’t know how to speak as well as she did. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Autumn, I’m Y/N. Is this your daddy?” She asked, pointing at Tom with her thumb. Tom was never going to be ashamed of Autumn; she was his pride and joy. The apple of his eyes, the reason he lives, etc., but he silently wished his daughter said no to her question. He hadn’t gathered up the courage to ask Y/N on a date, and he didn’t want to ruin any chances because she found out he had a daughter before he could tell her. He wanted at least one date with her before dropping the bomb that he was a single father and having her ghost him. 

Autumn nodded with a proud smile, her toothy smile wide as she smiled at her father. Tom’s heart swelled at the thought of his daughter being proud of him. Y/N chuckled and opened her mouth to respond before a small body barreled into her leg, holding a box of Jaffa cakes. Y/N nodded her head towards the little boy and laughed as she watched him run towards their trolley and place them in it ever so gently before he wandered the length of the aisle in search of the cereal he wanted. Y/N motioned for him to come back and grabbed ahold of his small hand. 

“Luca, this is Tom and his daughter Autumn, they’re mummy’s friends, can you say hi?” she said slowly while signing it out with her hands. The small boy, who couldn’t be older than six, nodded his head before turning to his mother’s friends. Using his fingers and talking lowly, he introduced himself to the older man and his wife. 

“Hi, my name is Lucas,” he signed with a smile. At that moment, Tom was thankful for briefly considering teaching his daughter sign language when she was a baby. Of course, he couldn’t do so, since he had a fish’s attention span, but he had googled phrases when he was researching it. He was able to catch the phrase and introduced himself with ease. The little boy’s eyes lit up; he wasn’t used to someone making an effort to communicate with him, except for his mother, family, and one school friend. Y/N’s heart swelled as she watched her cute student use his fingers to reply to her son. Every guy she had ever dated or considered dating had all but left when they found out she had son, and the ones who stayed, left when they found out he was deaf. 

“Daddy, why is he using his fingers?” Autumn whispered. Once again mortified at his daughter’s bluntness, her father sent Y/N an apologetic smile before he turned to his daughter. He explained it to her in terms she would understand, she nodded along and turned to her newfound friend with a smile. She threw up her fingers and waved them around, much to Lucas’ confusion and the amusement of his mother. Y/N explained to her son that she was merely trying to say hello but that she didn’t know his language. Autumn, getting frustrated at not interacting with her new friend, motioned for her father to take her out of the trolley and place her on the ground. Tom set her down and watched with pride as his daughter hugged the boy. 

“Uh, we should get going. It was nice to see you outside of class, Tom,” Y/N said shyly. She didn’t want to leave, but she figured that if she stayed any longer and watched Tom interact with her son, and make an effort to communicate with him with Lucas in his comfort zone, she would surely fall in love with him. And his daughter, she was so much like Tom. She was kind and welcoming; she would surely want to claim her as her own but figured that a handsome, made man like Tom, definitely had a wife he kept from the public. She knew he had a daughter, but his relationship status was never discussed on the internet. And she never spent too long on the internet unless it was to research ways to make Lucas’ life as comfortable as possible and the pros and cons of a cochlear implant as of recently. 

Tom was distraught knowing she had a son, not because it was a turn off, but because it likely meant she was in a relationship. And an established one too seeing as her son was no older than six. With a sigh, he agreed and bid his goodbye, quickly getting a box of cereal and leaving the aisle with his three year old happily babbling behind him. She cleared her throat and sent him a weary smile after he stopped and looked at her. 

“Sorry, it’s just, you took my trolley,” as if he couldn’t be more embarrassed. First, he shows up to the supermarket looking less than ideal with two different socks, and an old t-shirt with spit up on it from when Autumn was a baby, then he asks her what she’s doing at a grocery store like a knob, and now, he just has to take her groceries. He just couldn’t catch a break. Sheepishly, he apologised and handed her back her trolley, once again dashing away. Y/N chuckled from her spot before turning towards her son who stared at her with wide hazel eyes under his red glasses.

“Mummy, was that the cute man you told Auntie about?” Lucas signed prompting Y/N to blush, but nodded nonetheless. What kind of mother would be if she lied to her son about a small crush. She asked him what cereal he wanted, effectively changing the topic. He ran off towards the aisle and followed after the small boy, stopping when he held up a box of Frosties. She allowed him to put it in the trolley before they continued on with their shopping. 

Tom had to bribe his daughter pack of Smarties for her to stop laughing at his misfortune, and a box of chocolate biscuits in order for her not to tell her Uncles. He needed to reduce the time she spent with Tuwaine and Harry, they were corrupting his daughter. Autumn sat in her car seat happily munching on her smarties while Tom drove, still reeling at the way he behaved around her, and about how he was smitten with a woman who probably had a family. Autumn still giggled from her carseat from time to time when she remembered how her acted in front of the pretty chef. He would resort to sending her playful glares and threatening to cut her tea time with her nana. 

Calling for the boys to help them unload the groceries, he shuffled inside with Autumn hot on his heels. Helping out by carrying her bag of snacks, she ran towards her bedroom while calling for her uncles to help her dad. Tom rolled his eyes but chuckled. Harrison was the first one out followed by Tuwaine and Harry who all complained about helping, but did it nonetheless. Between the three man, they got the bags inside quickly and left Tom to unpack everything while they searched for Autumn, to undoubtedly wreak havoc in their home. 

Harry came into the kitchen when Tom restocked their fridge and looked at his older brother with giddiness. Tom sent him a questioning glance before turning back towards the fridge causing his younger brother to throw one of Autumn’s toys at him. Tom turned around with offence laced in his eyes and flicked his brother off simultaneously rubbing the sore spot on his head. 

“That was payback for hitting me on the head,” he deadpanned before walking towards him, phone open and ready, “and it was also to get your attention. She followed me back, I figured you might want to you know, do your research on her.” Tom stared at his brother incredoulsly and reached out for the phone only to stop himself. Did he really want to stalk someone, a woman at that, that he had no chance with anymore? Did he want to be as shameless as his younger brother? 

Shaking his head, he softly pushed his phone away from his face before turning back to his groceries; not wanting to be tempted with the offer. Harry snorted before sitting back down and started scrolling on his phone. Tom figured that was the end of his brother’s tampering until he cleared his throat dramatically and started describing his posts to him. 

“And in this one, she’s in France with a cute baby on her hip and they’re in front of the Eiffel Tower. Her caption says,” he proceeded to raise his voice a few octaves and mimicked her voice, even though they had never spoken before, “decided to spend my boy’s first birthday in the city of Love!” Tom rolled his eyes at his brothers exaggerated voice and failed to catch the way his eyes widened the more he scrolled on her page as he now placed groceries in the cupboard. 

“I didn’t know she had a kid,” Harry said, Tom only ignored him, “but I think she’s single, she posted a picture of them together on his recent birthday and said that he was the only love of her life.” 

Tom couldn’t help but feel better at this revelation but he couldn’t know for sure until he found someway to interject it in conversation, or until Harrison does it for him. He really needed to get his act together and talk to her without making himself look like a fool. Harry continued to scroll aimlessly before he cursed and mumbled on about how he liked a picture from two years ago. Tom laughed and left the kitchen, leaving his brother alone in his debacle. Maybe that would teach him to stop stalking people. 

The next class came quickly and once again, he dragged Harrison with him. The blond had no complaints this time around, seeing as his date with the raven haired girl went well and he was going to see her once again. He pulled into the car park and noticed the familiar red car pulling into a spot close to his. Tom watched as she struggled with the supplies in her hand and with her bags and quickly jumped out after turning off the engine. Forgetting about his friend, he locked the door and rushed to offer her his help. With a grateful smile, she allowed for him to carry some of her belongings into the class. They shared pleasantries and talked, both of them ignoring what happened at Tesco’s. They would remain friends even if they couldn’t be together. 

Tom settled down in his seat and pulled out his phone, his eyes widening when he saw Harrison’s very angry messages. He snorted before excusing himself and walking back towards his car, making eye contact with Harrison who flipped him off. He unlocked the door and braced himself for the inevitable hurt the blue eyed man was about to inflict on him. After a rather harsh punch and even harsher words, the two walked back into the classroom and took their spots, flushing under the weight of everyone’s eyes. 

Y/N started her class after the entered the room and walked around after she passed around the recipe papers to them. Harrison and Tom looked at the sheet in confusion, she had never taught this way, she always demonstrated. The two looked around the room and watched as everyone else had started following the recipe, moving about their areas and puting things together. Their eyes widened as they read over the instructions once again. Re-reading a recipe at home after having made the food was one thing, but making food without doing it once was another. They swallowed and pushed down the feeling of doom they were both feeling. 

After nearly smacking Harrison with one of the lasagne noodles and then almost getting sauce on his shoes, they worked on making the food together. Y/N had stopped by occasionally to help them out, and to put out a small grease fire, but left them to their own devices as she continued to walk around. Swallowing his pride, Harrison called for her and asked for her help which she happily gave. She demonstrated how to cut vegetables, how to grate the cheese, and even taught them a new phrase. 

“Al dente; it’s how we refer to pasta when it’s hard but still cooked, which is what we want to do with the lasagne noodles,” she explained softly. Harrison paid attention to her demonstration while Tom focused on her and the way her eyes danced in delight as she explained and her tone was light when she answered any questions they had. With her help, they placed the lasagne in the oven and high fived as they finished without starting a fire or getting into a fight. They thanked her to which she nodded and left them to their devices while they waited. She had instructed the class to get ahead of the cleaning process and do so while they waited so they could leave early. 

Part of Tom didn’t want to leave early, but he knew he would have to. So together, they cleaned up their area and waited for their food to finish cooking. They finished quickly and Harrison ditched him for Violet, the raven haired girl he went on a date with, leaving Tom to pass the time on his phone. A tap on his shoulder brought him out of his scrolling. He looked up and met soft eyes and a warm smile. Y/N.

“I saw Harrison leave you for Violet, figured I would keep you company,” she paused, a panicked look in her eyes, “only if that’s okay with you of course.” Tom nodded and placed his phone down, gesturing for her to take a seat beside him. She thanked him and settled down.

“Your daughter is adorable,” she commented as she watched his screen light up with a message from his mum, his phone screen on display. It was a picture of the three year old at one of his premiers, smiling her toothy smile at the photographers. Tom thanked her and agreed with a fond smile. Autumn was adorable.

“Your son is cute,” he said, causing her to smile, “you and your boyfriend must be happy.” 

“Oh, no boyfriend, just me and Luca,” she informed him, “what about you? You and your partner must be ecstatic to have such a charming little girl running around.” 

“If you’re referring to Harrison, I can assure you we are more than okay with seeing other people, preferably of the opposite gender,” he joked. She laughed and looked at him intently.

“So, there’s no Missus?” she inquired, Tom shook his head. She smiled at his response and opened her mouth to reply before the sound of alarms going off interrupted her. She stood up and instructed everyone to take their dishes out of the oven and check their food, making sure the noodles were soft and easy to cut into. She went around offering everyone the lid to the containers the lasagne was in and helped those who needed, close them. 

Tom handed their container and the keys to the car to Harrison rather roughly and pushed him out the door before walking towards Y/N and clearing his throat, fiddling with his fingers. She sent him a questioning look and rose an eyebrow, waiting for him to talk. 

“Uh, I just wanted to invite you and Lucas to Autumn’s birthday,” no he didn’t, he was fully intending on asking her on a date, “it’s on Saturday. It’s okay if you can’t or simply don’t want to but I think-” 

“We would love to come. Here, you can text me the address, and Luca and I will be there. How old is she turning?” She asked and handed him her phone. He typed in his phone number and smiled at the picture she had set her wallpaper as. It was of her and Lucas, smiling at the camera. Lucas had cake frosting smeared on his face and on his hands which he was placing on her cheek. 

“Four,” she didn’t turn four for another month. Now he had to throw together a quick birthday party and lie to his daughter. All because he couldn’t ask the pretty chef out on a date.

“We’ll be there,” she said, Tom nodded and walked out of the room slowly, until she called his name, “text me. It doesn’t have to be about the party.” She winked and Tom blushed. 

He walked towards the car with a spring in his step and his head in the clouds. He didn’t ask her on a date, but he got her number and she told him to text her. That was better than nothing. Now all he needed to do was throw an impromptu birthday party for his daughter. 

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[obsidiancreates]

Freezer Duty (Part One)

(This was going to be a one-shot but then it reached 4,000 words so now it’s split up)

----------------------------

Amy parks her car and lays her head on the steering wheel. "You can do this. Christmas shopping is already slowing down, you can do this."

She grabs her coffee thermos, a special blend Emma came up with just for the holiday rush days (it had made Amy almost cry with thankful joy, and had made Emma shrink into her sweater and mutter "Whatever," five times straight), and gets out of her car.

The parking lot is mostly empty. Either most of her coworkers took the bus, or Amy is one of the only people on time... again. Not that she blames anyone. The weather is so cold that getting out of bed feels like a death sentence.

As she walks to the doors, she glances at the other cars. Glenn, obviously. As long as she's been working there, he's always been early. Carol, too. Probably planning to mess with Sandra somehow, this kind of stuff is why corporate shouldn't have shut down the in-store HR department. And then...

Jonah's car? He's usually at least a couple of minutes later than her... weird.

She walks past, and pauses. Why are the inside lights on? That means it's unlocked, and she knows Jonah locks his car obsessively. She once saw him lock it five times through the doors of the store. 

Curiosity claims her, and she peeks inside. 

And drops her thermos.

“Oh my go- JONAH!”

The scream is loud enough to summon Glenn. “Amy, what is- AHHHH!” he holds his hands up to his head as he shrieks.

Jonah is laying inside his car, bleeding from the neck.

Amy yanks open the car door and shakes Jonah’s shoulders. “Jonah, Jonah wake up!” As she shakes and calls out, Glenn stands behind her with his hands clasped, frantically praying to both Jesus and the Jewish God in a highly confusing yet heartfelt prayer.

“Jonah!” Amy slaps him in the face in a moment of complete desperation.

Jonah startles awake and puts his hand up to his cheek. “O-ow! What was that for! And...” he looks behind Amy. “... Why is Glenn turning purple.”

“Wh- oh, my god, Glenn, take a breath. Okay, um, Jonah, are you alright?”

“I-I think so... why?”

“Well, because you’re sitting in your turned-off unlocked car, in the middle of winter, passed out with blood on your neck.”

“WHAT?!” Jonah feels his neck. “OH- oh, god this is- this is not good, how did-”

“Our insurance is so bad,” Glenn sobs, “You’re not gonna make it!”

“Glenn, don’t- okay, let’s get you inside and- you’re not still bleeding, right?”

“I don’t think so, but what does critical blood loss feel like? Like would I be able to tell? I need to Google this, just-”

“Yeah, you’re going to be okay. Okay, into the store, Glenn help us out.”

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“Ow.” Jonah winces and flinches away as Amy dabs his neck with a wipe. 

“Pretty dramatic start to the work day, gosh. I hope nothing else happens.” Glenn shakes his hands by his sides and looks around nervously. He leans in and whispers, “Do you think they’ll find another foot? Jonah, what sneakers do you wear?”

“Again, still have both off my feet.” Jonah winces again, and Amy sets down the towel. 

“Okay, it’s all clean, so now we can-”

“Hey guys! Whoa...” Cheyenne stops in her tracks as she enters the breakroom, spreading her arms and stopping everyone else from entering too. There’s an annoyed clamoring for a minute before Garrett just rolls in under her arm. Everyone stoops down to follow, except Marcus, who tries (and fails) to turn it into a game of Limbo.

Garrett looks at the bloody wipes on the table Jonah and Amy are at. “Whoa, dude, what the hell happened?”

Amy sighs. “Jonah was-”

“We found Jonah dying in his car!” Glenn exclaims.

“Not dying!” Jonah and Amy say quickly. 

“He was passed out and bleeding a little,” Amy says to cut any rumors off preemptively, moving the collar of his shirt to get a better look at the wounds.

“In your car? In the middle of winter?”

Glenn nods, his face screwed up with worry. “And no scarf!”

“Oh, you’re for sure gonna die,” Cheyenne says, Mateo nodding in agreement. “It’s like, super cold outside.”

“Honestly I didn’t even feel that cold,” Jonah says, putting his hands up. “I guess my car stayed warm. ... Some-somehow.”

“What were you even doing in there? Are you homeless again? You could always crash at my place. Unless the birds don’t like you, then you’re gone. Nothing personal.” Dina sips her coffee.

“Thank you, for that... generous offer, um, I don’t actually remember.”

Amy pauses her checking. “You don’t?”

“No, I um, I just remember realizing I forgot something and going back into the store to get it, and then coming out and everyone was gone. And then there’s just sort of, nothing. ... That-that actually is more worrying, now that I say it aloud, am-am I dying?”

“Your brain probably froze up and is just taking time to de-thaw,” Marcus says with a flippant gesture. “Happened to my cousin once when we ate too many beer-pops.”

“... Okay, then, what’s a- no, nevermind, I can just guess. I don’t actually think that’s how brain freezes work, but thanks, I think.” 

Marcus smiles and raises his hands in an attempt at a gracious gesture.

“So you don’t remember anything?” Amy asks, bringing the subject back to the alarming and somewhat urgent situation.

“Maybe someone came up behind him and hit him over the head. Blunt force trauma, put him back in his car to make it look like he froze to death, do you know of anyone who wants to kill you? Maybe a disgruntled ex-classmate, customer you bored out of their skull with a pointless story, maybe-”

“That- no. No, I don’t think anyone wants to kill me for telling an invigorating story. And I’d rather not think about that, actually.”

Dina shrugs. “You don’t want to solve the mystery, fine. But don’t blame me when someone you screwed over in a group project cuts off your junk.”

Jonah and Amy stare at Dina for a second, and then Amy shakes her head. “Anyway... I checked, and I don’t think he has anything wrong with his head. Just his neck.”

Mateo glances over, unperturbed but curious. His expression becomes horrified. “Oh, my god! There’s two giant holes in your neck!”

Jonah slaps his hand over the wounds. “WHAT?!”

“They are not giant holes!” Amy shouts as everyone starts chattering. “They’re tiny ones! And-and they’re more like cuts, anyway!”

“Maybe someone injected him with drugs.”

“Why would they do that, Dina?”

“Yeah, who wastes drugs like that?” Cheyenne looks around at everyone else, who have gone silent. “What?”

“And, wait, with two needles?” Garrett points to Jonah’s neck. 

“Maybe they missed a vein the first time.” Dina snorts like it’s an obvious conclusion.

Marcus snaps his fingers. “Maybe it’s some kind of new fancy needle.”

Dina shakes her head. “I keep up to date on drug needle trends. We find too many in the customer bathrooms for me to be out of the loop.”

Glenn startles slightly. “We do?”

“Guys!” Amy gestures at Jonah.

Everyone murmurs some form of “Right!” or “Sorry Jonah.”

“Really, I’m-I’m fine.” Jonah keeps a hand over the holes. “It’s just a little sore, and um, I don’t know, I guess I’m a little chilly and tired, but I’m generally okay.”

“Okay, great!” Dina claps her hands. “You can have an easy assignment today because of the whole ‘attacked for revenge’ thing-”

“That’s not what-”

“Well, no-one knows what happened, so for now my theory is valid. Anyway, I’ll assign you to grocery. Slow over there today, bakery is having a big sale and uh, huh, we had an overstock of powered donuts so it might get wild.”

“Well... thank you, Dina. A slow day sounds good, actually, because I’m starting to get a headache.” Jonah rubs his eyes. “Really bright in here.”

“It’s the standard fluorescents.” Glenn looks up. “Unless corporate had it changed overnight, but I don’t think so...”

Cheyenne tilts her head with a small frown, and looks at Jonah’s neck throughout the rest of the meeting.

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“No way,” Mateo scoffs. “That’s far-fetched gossip, even for us.”

“No, but it would make sense, right?” Cheyenne looks around, and then whispers. “Didn’t notice the cold, lights too bright, two holes in his neck. Jonah totally got bitten by a vampire.” She leans back and nods, eyes wide at her own revelation.

“Vampires aren’t even real though! As much as we might wish they were.”

They glance over at Grocery. Jonah is yawning, leaning against the freezer section. 

“He looks pale, right?” Cheyenne whispers.

“He always looks pale. He could wear non-tinted sunscreen as foundation,” Mateo says with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

“Yeah, I guess. ... Should we try to get a look at his eyes?”

“Chy, I love you, but we’ve got a ton of restocking to do and I don’t want to be all panicked before lunch.”

“Right. Right. Yeah. Probably just like, letting my imagination get the best of me, right? Yeah...”

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“Excuse me?” 

Jonah startles, jumping away from the freezer door. “Hi! Yes, sorry! Um, what-what can I... help you with?”

“Could you please show me where the frozen pizzas are?”

“Sure, ma’am, right this way.” Jonah rubs his eyes, leading her to a different section of the freezer area. 

“Oh, thank you! Could you grab it for me?”

“Wh-why?”

“I don’t like the cold.”

Well, neither does he, and he’s already chilly. But this is his job. Somehow. How did he get here again? His head feel a little foggy, he can’t quite gather his thoughts. 

He reaches in and grabs the pizza. “Okay, here you-”

“No, the ones from the very back.”

“... I-I’m sorry?”

“The back ones are always better.”

“... Alright, I will... reach all the way into the back of the freezer.”

Jonah leans into the freezer, bracing himself for chills and shivers. And...

... Nothing.

It’s cold, but it’s... not bothering him that much. he leans in, grabs the pizza, and leans back out without feeling any more cold than he did prior to the task.

“Thank you, young man. You should grab yourself one too, it’ll put some color into those cheeks.”

The old woman walks away, and Jonah pulls out his phone to look up symptoms of frostbite and hypothermia.

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Justine shakes her head. “I’ve read Twilight a million times, if he was a vampire I would be able to tell.”

“What if we give him some garlic bread, and tell him it’s normal bread?” Sandra suggests.

“Because if he’s just allergic to garlic, we won’t know the difference. Doy.” Marcus scoff-laughs at Sandra and points at her mockingly with his thumb.

“What are you guys talking about?” Garrett asks, rolling up to the group. “Marcus, aren’t you supposed to be unloading a truck right now?”

“Eh, didn’t feel like it. Anyway, we’re trying to figure out if Jonah is a vampire now.”

“Are you serious?”

They all nod. Garrett grins. He folds his hands in his lap. “So what have you tried so far?”

“Nothing yet,” Justine admits.

“We might give him garlic bread,” Sandra says with a shrug. “Is he allergic to garlic?”

“No.”

Sandra lights up. “So it would work!” Her smiles fades. “Oh. But then it might kill him.”

“We can’t do that! The Horsemen stick together, I could never hurt my best friend.” Marcus shakes his head. “What if we just drop something really heavy on him and see if he catches it?”

“That won’t hurt him?” Garrett checks.

“Not if he’s a vampire.”

“Right, right. How about instead of splattering him across the Wheaties boxes, you just ask Glenn to go pester him with Bible stuff?” Garrett would love to see that, Jonah gets to flustered over trying not to offend while trying to get away. It’s hilarious.

Marcus points at Garrett with a smile. “That- yes! Perfect! Thanks man!”

The small group runs off, and Garrett laughs a little to himself as he heads on back to customer service.

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“Oh, this one is one of my favorite verses, so here we go, ahem-”

“Hey, Glenn? Isn’t there a-a rule, against doing this kind of thing at work?”

“Well... technically... but Marcus told me you wanted to know my favorite parts of the Bible, so I just sort of thought why wait.”

“He- really? Because I’m not... known, for being very curious about... the Bible...”

“But you are known for being curious about your friends,” Glenn says with a point and a smile.

Jonah plasters on a smile himself. “Yeah. Yeah, I do tend to-”

“Get a little nosy.”

“... I was going to say get involved, but... I-I guess nosy works too. But um, I’m restocking the ice cream right now, so kind of have to act fast,” Jonah motions at the freezeer.

“Oh, then I’ll make this quick! Okay, this verse says-”

Jonah sighs, rubbing his head. His headache is just getting worse and worse. He’s pretty sure it’s the lights, or maybe the dry-cold freezer air, but Glenn’s babbling is not helping. 

And his voice is really grating right now. It’s not exactly soothing at even the best of times, but Jonah is pretty sure he’d rather listen to nails on a chalkboard than another round of ‘Top Bible Verses’ from Glenn.

“Okay!” he snaps. “That’s good, that is- that is very much enough! Thank you for sharing something you enjoy with me, now please let me do my job!”

Glenn startles, and then hugs his Bible to his chest. “Fine. Then I guess you don’t get to hear me sing the top five best Psalms. Which is too bad for you, because Jerusha says I do them well enough to be on radio.”

Glenn walks away, and Jonah sighs. He hadn’t meant to snap, it was just really getting on his nerves. ... At least his headache is a little better already without the extra noise.

He watches Glenn walk away, and then catches sight of Justine and Sandra quickly ducking behind another isle. He looks on in confusion for a moment more, and then gets back to work.

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“Okay, we need a real plan,” Justine sighs. 

“For what?” Dina pauses on her way to the coffee pot. “More raccoons? Did they find a snake in the bananas again?”

“We think Jonah night be a vampire,” Sandra says.

Cheyenne stops eating her lunch. “Oh my god, you told them?”

“I couldn’t think of anything else to say!” Mateo defends. “It’s been a boring day! Other than, you know, Jonah almost dying.”

“Wait, you guys think Jonah is a vampire? No way, have you seen him? That’d be too cliche.” Dina scoffs at the idea. And then looks at the ground, a thoughtful frown appearing on her face. “Although the cliche would also mean it makes sense...”

Garrett eats a chip. “Come on, he’d be a terrible vampire. Vampires are supposed to be confidant and suave. Jonah can’t even explain his cookie choices without a five-minute tirade.”

“And he’d cut himself off at least six times in those five minute,” Dina says with a slight wince. “Yeah, he’d be a terrible vampire.”

“I don’t know. Sometimes he’s really confident, and he does that smirk thing?” Sandra says, gesturing to her own mouth for emphasis. “Plus, he always stands like a politician.”

“And he puts way too much product in his hair! That’s a total vampire thing,” Cheyenne says with a definitive shrug.

“He does already have that black-hair-pale-skin thing going for him...” Mateo admits. “If he could be a villain on CW he could be a vampire.”

“And how would he drink blood?” Garrett asks. “Just talk until the person passes out? Ask overly politely in a way that really sounds like he’s trying to ask for sex?”

Everyone murmurs in agreement.

“He would starve,” Cheyenne declares. “Because he’d be picky, too, right?”

“Picky like, about the person’s health?” Mateo asks with a doubtful frown. “He’d probably freak out about not wanting to discriminate though.”

“That would be the starvation,” Dina says with a nod. “He’d be too worried about the socio-political crap of whoever he picks so he’d just debate himself until it was too late.”

“... That’d be kind of funny,” Mateo says quietly.

Everyone thinks for a moment, and then agrees.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, Jonah.” Dina snaps her fingers in front of Jonah’s face, jarring him out of his standing sleep. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Sorry, Dina.” Jonah rubs his face. “I feel exhausted.”

“It’s the middle of the day.”

“Yeah! Yeah, I know. Um, what did you need?”

“I need you to go help Brett move some of the exercise equipment, the dolly broke.”

“Wh- so-so we have to move it by hand?”

“You’ve got a little muscle on your noodle arms, you can handle it.” Dina slaps him on the back and walks away. Jonah huffs, hands on his hips. After a moment he shakes his head and moves over to exercise.

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“Okay, now we find out for sure,” Dina says smugly. “No way a Human Jonah could handle the weight of that stuff.”

Everyone is crammed into the surveillance office, watching Jonah on the monitors.

“Should one of us tell Amy about this?” Cheyenne asks. “I feel like we’re leaving her out.”

“It is weird that I’m in on this and not her,” Marcus agrees. “But she’d probably tell us this is ‘dangerous’ or something.”

“She wouldn’t like it at all,” Dina confirms. “Best to just tell her about it later, or let her find out on her own. Later.”

They watch Jonah and Brett work together surprisingly smoothly, moving the heavy equipment with a perfectly human amount of struggling. Dina leans back in her chair with a disappointed sigh. “Dammit. I almost let myself believe in magic...”

“Wait, look!” Cheyenne points to the monitor. 

Everyone looks, excited and hopeful. And they collectively sigh and grumble.

“He’s just talking to a customer,” Mateo says.

“A super rude one! I’ve dealt with him before, he’s a total asshole. Let’s turn on the audio and listen to Jonah freak out.”

“I do love a good Jonah freakout.” Dina turns on the audio.

“Yeah, I-I’m sorry, sir, we just don’t carry that here anymore.”

“This store has carried it for over ten years.”

“Yeah, it’s a bummer! I know I hate when store stop carrying stuff I like. But maybe! Maybe we can view this as a-a chance for personal growth, for you! A chance at... at evolution, at moving forward-”

“Are you mocking me, little bitch boy?”

Everyone gasps. “Oh no he didn’t,” Cheyenne whispers. On the camera, Jonah is clearly taken aback, leaning away from the customer and staring with wide eyes.

“Some... very strong language, sir. Um, no, I just meant that maybe, you know, instead of-of viewing this in the negative-”

“So I’m a negative person?”

“No! No, I can’t- I don’t know you! I can’t make judgements about people that fast! Just- I hope this doesn’t ruin your day, right? And-and I want to see if we can find you a-a replacement, so that you can still have what you want!”

“How important do you think this is to me? You think I’m pathetic? Can’t be happy without my specific little brand?”

“No, I just-”

“I’m gonna need to speak with your bitch of a floor manager or whatever she’s called.”

“... I’m sorry?”

“Your bitch of a floor manager. The loud Latina lady.”

Dina stands up, ready to go beat the man with a bat for talking about her best friend that way. Cheyenne pushes her back down, jaw dropped. “I think Jonah is about to stand up to him,” she says.

Jonah is indeed, looking quite pissed off. He steps closer, and looks the much taller man right in the eyes. Jonah’s a good head shorter, his hair barely coming up to the other man’s chin, yet for some reason unknown the black-and-white monitor shows the customer being the one who leans back.

“You, sir, are a very unpleasant person,” Jonah says in a calm, measured voice. “And I think you need to do some self-reflection. I think you should leave the store, and learn how to talk about people without using the word ‘bitch’, alright?”

It’s so overly polite it’s almost comical. Yet somehow... it works.

The customer stands there for a second, then just... walks away. Jonah watches after him, the calm and collection expression on his face quickly giving way to confusion. He looks around as though wondering if someone else had done something to scare the customer off.

“Confidence boost,” Sandra says softly.

Cheyenne pulls out a notebook and ticks something off. “That counts as evidence.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jonah has no clue what just happened.

One moment he was speaking with a rude customer, the next the customer was walking away and Jonah has no clue why. What he does know was that his headache was slightly better, and that he really wishes his lunch break was sooner because he is famished.

Someone taps him on the shoulder, and he nearly jumps out of his skin. He turns around to see Amy looking at him with slight concern. “You okay? You’re just sort of... staring off into space.”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Uh... yeah, I’m fine. Totally fine.”

“... I don’t believe you.”

“Well, then you... have trust issues, because I am. I’m fine.”

“... Sure... can I see your neck again, real quick?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re acting weird and I want to make sure you’re not developing an infection that’s getting to your brain?”

“... Yeah, check away.”

Amy checks, and winces. “Youch. Yeah, let’s get some more antibiotics on those.” She starts leading him towards the breakroom. “So, what happened with that customer? I came over right at the tail end, missed the whole thing.”

“Oh. Um... I guess I just, really got through to him.”

“You?”

“Yes, me, why- what is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing! It’s just, usually when you try to calm down a customer you don’t get very far.”

“Well, you know, sometimes people just listen if you hit the right cords-”

“Mmm-hmm, yeah.”

“-I guess I just found the right words to resonate with him, is all I’m saying.” If only he knew what those words were...

Creak

Jonah pauses. “Did-did you just hear that?”

“Hear what?”

Creaaak

Jonah looks up. “I think the ceiling is about to collapse.”

“Why?”

CREAAAAK!

A mass of merch falls from the ceiling! Amy and Jonah both scream, brace themselves, Amy still holding onto Jonah and Jonah still holding onto Amy-!

...

And... they’re a safe distance from it all as it crashes down.

A multitude of raccoons scamper out and scatter, their Nest Of Stolen Goods now revealed. Jonah and Amy watch from the sidelines.

The sidelines!

“How did we get over here?” Amy is staring at the pile.

“... I don’t know,” Jonah replies, staring as well. Oh, what an adrenaline rush, his heart is racing- ... it... should... be racing...

Amy’s hand is still around Jonah’s wrist. She looks at him for a moment, and then shakes off the shock. “Okay, um, let’s get a team to clean this up, and get some antibiotic on your neck.”

“Will that part take a whole team, too?”

“Ha-ha, Jonah. ... I’m just glad neither of us got hurt.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!” Cheyenne grabs Mateo and starts shaking him. “DID YOU SEE WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!”

“WE ALL SAW!” Mateo shouts, pushing Cheyenne away. He huffs and brushes off his sweater. “All three of us left, anyway.”

Dina taps the monitor. “That’s why you never leave the surveillance room after something mildly interesting happens! Something big always follows!”

“He’s actually a vampire,” Mateo says in disbelief. “He vampire-ran away from that junk, he’s actually a vampire!”

Dina scoff-laughs. “The little guy pulled off one hell of a ruse, huh? Pretty clever, faking amnesia.”

Cheyenne stops her mini victory celebration. “Whoa, why do you think he’s faking?” 

“Because why wouldn’t I? He’s a vampire now, even if he actually doesn’t remember what happened it’s got to be pretty obvious to him that he’s undead. ... Right?”

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“What’re you googling?” Amy dabs at the neck wounds gently with a damp cloth as she prepares to put on the antibiotic cream.

“Symptoms of frostbite and hypothermia. I guess everyone got into my head this morning, and I’ve had some weird stuff happen to me...”

“Well... anything about last night coming back? Could help you figure out whatever symptoms you’ve got.”

“Still nothing.” Jonah rubs his neck when Amy is done dabbing it with the cloth. “I still feel like the day just started, honestly.”

“Oh yeah,” Amy agrees. “Today’s going to be a long day.”

[prettywordsyouleft]

To Be Continued - Part 3

Summary: As an author, you had created Brian Kang for your current trilogy series to represent the ultimate man that everyone would love, along with Charli Evers - your female protagonist. What you hadn’t expected was for him to find a way out of the story and begin shaping up your world instead

Pairing: Brian Kang x female writer (ft. Park Sungjin)

Genre: writer au / romance / fantasy

Warnings: fictional characters coming to life / a bit of angst here and there / Sungjin as a cop (or does that only affect me?) >_>

Word count: 2288

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | Epilogue

“I know it seems ridiculous,” you stated as you led the constable to your home office, pointing at your desk where both the pen and message waited for him to inspect. “However, I didn’t hear a thing and yet this is all here.”

Sungjin quietly investigated the space, looking to the window and then went over to jiggle the catch. He stepped all around the room, searching for clues, his hand rising to his mouth to cover it as he processed his thoughts.

And then he turned to you. “I don’t really know what to say. This makes no sense.”

“I feel like I’m going insane!” you admitted emotionally, dropping to a crouch and holding onto your legs. “How could someone get in and out without my knowledge whilst everything is still locked?!”

When you glanced up at Sungjin, who came to your side, you noticed the look of scepticism within his eyes. There was nothing factual aside from the second fingerprints, which in your mind, was enough to convince you that someone else had been here. For a moment, the trained professional looked at you and assessed something before smiling gently. You realised then Sungjin was questioning your well-being.

Standing up suddenly, you took a step back from his proximity and looked out the window. “I might have proclaimed just now about feeling as if I’m going insane, but I can assure you, Constable Park, that I’m not already insane.”

“I know,” he answered, trying to catch your attention. When he gained it, he nodded genuinely. “I’m sorry, my brief thought was too brash.”

“I can understand why,” you breathed out with a sigh, shaking your head. “It would be easy enough to plant such evidence, right? I’ve watched enough spy movies and read enough novels to know that it’s relatively simple enough to obtain someone’s fingerprint.”

“Yes, but I believe you haven’t done this on purpose either, Y/N.”

There was comfort in the way he spoke your name and you nodded softly, tears spilling down your cheeks. Sungjin stepped into your space again, patting your shoulder gently. “What do I do?”

“We need to catch the person in the act,” Sungjin suggested and you stared at him curiously. “Have you tried messaging the person back?”

“No… I mean, how does that work? It’s not a social app they’re writing on but Microsoft Word. Even with a cloud sharing system, it would show me that another user is signed in.”

Sungjin shrugged. “Still. Worth a shot, don’t you think?”

“Do I try it now?” you asked and Sungjin shook his head.

“Nothing will happen with me here,” he guessed and you sighed, defeated. You kind of liked that nothing would happen with Sungjin here. But he had a job to do and you did want to solve this issue too.

If it was simply a fan, you would thank them for nursing you back to health that night and ask them to stop this. That seemed simple enough to request. Surely, if they cared that much about you, they would comply.

You didn’t want to consider that their fan status was anything more than just that. Once again, movies and books you had perused with obsessive stalkers cropped up and you shuddered.

Sungjin noticed and rubbed at your shoulders to relax you. “You’re going to be okay. You have my number and I’ll make sure to check in on your regularly too. Let me know if anything happens with the messages, okay?”

“I will.” Leading the constable back out to the front door, he turned and rubbed at his wrist.

“Did you need a lift to get your groceries?”

“Is that allowed in a police vehicle?” you wondered and Sungjin grinned.

“I could write it off as protection services.”

“I’m touched, really,” you responded, trying to rein in the smile you knew was splitting your lips all too obviously.

Sungjin nodded and chuckled back. “Knowing you would take the offer if my car wasn’t government-funded is all I need, Y/N.”

“You best get back to patrolling the streets for proper crime,” you suggested and he nodded. You then laughed. “And I have a date with the fruit and vegetable section to help improve my immunity after dealing with this cold.”

“Take it easy. First dates can be hard to deal with.”

You grinned. “I will. And if I’m in trouble from it, I’ll know who to ring.”

You could tell Sungjin wasn’t usually one for this type of banter, and despite his ears turning red, he seemed to be enjoying himself. Which was no doubt why he was reluctant to step off your front porch right now.

However, he finally did so with another wave and you stepped back inside, locking the door before going to write out your list. It felt weird to use the pen that reappeared so you put it away before reaching for another and jotted down the groceries you needed.

“Have you tried messaging the person back?”

Sungjin’s suggestion lingered in your mind as you prepared to stand and fetch your bag. Relenting, you looked at the screen and inhaled a deep breath before you began to type.

Thank you for returning the pen. And for helping me with my illness.

It felt odd to type anything more and you shook your head to loosen off the feeling, getting to your feet and taking the list out with you.

The words you had written then disappeared without your knowledge, reaching the person they were intended for.

You had almost forgotten all about the incident that led to the constable ending up in your house again today, but the interaction by your front door had replayed so much in your mind that you were too giddy to focus on anything else. As you put away your groceries, you contemplated what Sungjin was like to go grocery shopping with.

It was juvenile. You felt like you were back in high school crushing on a student you liked. You entertained the idea, all the same, slipping further into more domestic actions, swooning over your hypothetical relationship with the man.

You were destined to be a writer. You were far too much of a dreamer for any other profession.

By the time you had eaten a late lunch, you had already jotted down on your phone’s notes app more information to add to your police officer document once back at your desk. You did some house chores before stepping back in there, and before you could even sit down, there was a knock at your door.

It wasn’t Sungjin, however, but your mother, armed with an arsenal to help your illness improve.

You grinned even though you whined out loud. “Mum, I’m basically over it now.”

“You had me worried sick about you. Especially when you mentioned someone broke in!”

Taking what she held and helping the woman inside, you shook your head. “Well, there’s no evidence that’s solid enough to say someone broke in.”

“Should I stay with you tonight?”

“Why tonight when I was more frightened last night?” you asked with a teasing tone and the older woman swatted at you in distaste.

“I’m your mother! I’m allowed to be worried.”

“I’ll be fine! I’ll have the doors all locked, and my favourite police officer’s number saved into my phone. Besides, I’ll no doubt spend my night writing and-”

“Forget I’m even here. Yes, I know how you get when you step out of reality, Y/N.”

You grinned again at her understanding and then were gathered up in a hug. “At least let me cook you dinner. I’ll leave before it gets too late for your creative juices to start rolling out.”

“You’re the best, you know that?”

“Of course I do. I have to be the best to be your Mum!”

After watching two feel-good movies from your childhood and your mother had fed you your favourite dish for dinner before wrapping the night up with fussing over you sufficiently, she headed back home and left you to your own devices.

So it surprised you to finally sit back down after hours away from your laptop to find the screen still active.

Peering closely at it, you blinked slowly at your message or lack of it. Where had it gone? You knew you written the two sentences and pressed enter.

Just as you were about to close the document, your eyes rounded with shock as words began to appear on the screen before you.

“I’m going insane after all,” you said jarringly, reading the sentence as it was typed.

I hope you will stop fearing me and calling that police officer. I’m really not that scary. You know me.

Instead of reaching for your phone, you felt compelled to reply.

Do I?

Again words started to appear before you. Of course. You know me better than I probably do.

How?

You created me.

“Maybe I’ve had too much coffee,” you tried to rationalise but it didn’t make any sense. Looking around yourself to see if someone was remotely plugged in somehow to your laptop, you even searched the connection settings before coming up blank.

So you challenged the writer of the messages.

If I know you and created you – which sounds absolutely absurd by the way – why won’t you show yourself?

You laughed when there was no immediate response and hovered the mouse pointer over the exit button to Microsoft Word, intending to then power off the device. The screen flickered then and you looked back at to see new words forming.

Don’t turn off the laptop.

“What would that have anything to do with this?” you murmured, feeling exasperated from chatting with some strange person within a word document in the first place.

More words appeared. Because the world you created was made on this.

“Okay, it’s getting too late for me now. I’m going to save this document and-”

The screen went blank and you sat back in your chair then, watching it to see what would happen next. Nothing did and you hit the power button on and off, laughing at the predicament. “My battery must have died. Great.”

Searching on the desk for the power cord, you plugged it in and the machine brightened up instantly, blinding you a little with the sudden change.

And then it opened Captivated again.

You watched as the story scrolled down at an unbelievably fast rate, reaching the bottom of the manuscript where you had changed the words back to The End for the third time. They disappeared and were replaced with To Be Continued once more, infuriating you.

“Leave my work alone! This is an intrusion on my intellectual property! You have no right interfering with--”

You weren’t sure if you were hallucinating or not. You weren’t even sure how it happened. One moment, whilst you were ranting to whoever may be listening in about your rights, you were all alone.

The next, a man was leaning against your desktop beside you.

“What the… how did you get in here?!” you cried, not looking up at him properly, reaching into your pocket to retrieve your phone.

“I really don’t think you need to call for him. But if it makes you feel safer, by all means, ring your hero.”

His voice, although you had never heard it before, felt familiar, as if you had imagined that’s how someone would sound. You glanced at his hand resting on the table beside you, wondering why it looked as if you had written about this hand so often it almost felt intimate. Following your gaze up his arm, you ran your focus along his shoulder and up to his face, hearing your phone clatter to the floor beside you.

As you looked intensely into his warm brown eyes that watched you back, and then took in the sharp slant of his nose that was definitely a characteristic point, before finally moving to his lips, you knew exactly who you were staring back at.

Brian Kang.

He grinned, scrunching up his nose a little in the process and it made you gasp. This seemed to please the man. “Well, I guess it works on more than just Charli Evers, huh?”

“You’re… wait… how can you… I mean, this is exactly how I pictured you but… it’s impossible.”

Brian nodded, glancing back at your laptop and tapped on the screen. “I guess it would seem like that to you since my world is created from your imagination.”

“Sungjin’s right, I’ve gone mad.”

“Darling, you’ve been mad for some time but I wouldn’t go thinking this is a hallucination.”

“You’re not real.”

“Well, I guess I’m not meant to be real. I’m not really sure how I figured this all out either. I’m still learning about the outside world so forgive me for scaring you with all this.”

“The outside world?” you repeated incredulously, grasping your head as you felt faint. “Why am I talking to my imagination?! This is an all-time low for me; even I have to admit it.”

“Y/N,” Brian stated, capturing your attention once again. His expression was resolute. You knew without him saying anything else that he believed in what he was about to say wholly. “Whilst you are my maker, I do exist. I’m real.”

“I bet I can’t even touch--” A whimper left you then as he reached out to take a hold of your wrist with the same hand you had inspected. And then he slipped it down so he was holding yours, marvelling at the connection.

And like any normal, logical person who just met their creation in the flesh, you completely blacked out from the experience.

_________________

Part 4

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[prettyboongi]

BTS Reaction | They React to You Having a Weird Personality

[A/N: Hey gang! I’ve been meaning to post this earlier but somehow I got hit with major writer’s block （￣ε￣）so to the user who requested this, I’m really sorry I took so long to finish this. Hope you all enjoy!

Seokjin 

When Jimin decided to tag along with you and Seokjin to go grocery shopping, he didn’t think much of it at first. He was running low on basics such as milk and soy sauce and, being his first time spending some time with you, he thought it would be a great time to get to know you better. And boy, did he. 

The three of you were browsing the produce section of the grocery store when you suddenly wandered off somewhere. Jimin didn’t think much of it and continued to stay by Jin’s side, checking the ripeness of the cantaloupes. It was only when he heard you speaking nearby. You were talking in a cutesy voice, the kind one would use when speaking to a baby or small child. It was only when Jimin turned your way to find you speaking to either. 

“Aww, aren’t you just the cutest thing ever!,” you cooed while holding a kiwi close to your face. “You’re so soft and fuzzy. Too bad you’re just too delicious otherwise I’d keep as a pet!” 

“What the absolute fuck?,” Jimin murmured, totally dumbstrucked of what he was witnessing. 

“What?,” asked Jin, too busy testing the cantaloupes. 

“Y/N is talking to fruit… like it’s an animal or something.” 

“Oh yeah, she does that sometimes. Pretty adorable, right? 

Adorable wasn’t the right word Jimin was thinking of. Plain bizarre was more fitting. Or embarrassing as a handful of passersby gave quizzical looks at you. But you were too busy to notice, focusing on your conversation with the small, fuzzy fruit. 

Mortified, Jimin calls out to you. “Ah, Y/N! Can you please quit it.? You’re being weird!”

Surprised but unfazed by Jimin’s outburst and overall embarrassment, you simply respond, “But come on, they just look so deliciously cute!” You even gave the kiwi a nice pet before lovingly rubbing it on your face. 

Utterly speechless, Jimin continues to gawk at you like a freakshow. His attention does break from you when he feels a sudden pat on the shoulder. He turns around slightly to find Jin next to him with a sympathetic look on his face. 

“There, there Jiminie.” says Jin, “you’ll come to love her weirdness. 

And Jimin eventually did. Begrudgingly so. 

Yoongi 

You were sitting alone in a cafe, waiting for your boyfriend Yoongi to arrive. When he mentioned that he had some time out of his busy schedule to hang out, of course you took the opportunity. Although you admired his work ethic and dedication to BTS, you still wished there was more time to spend time together. And it was days like this that you truly look forward to. 

He texted you he was running a bit late so all you could really do was wait patiently for him. A task that wasn’t so hard since you found yourself drifting into a daydream while staring out the window. It was only you heard the screech of the chair scooting that broke you from your daydream. You turn to the noise and see Yoongi sitting down in front of you. And with an unexpectant guess. 

“Hey Y/N, sorry I’m late,” Yoongi greets you, “Hope you don’t mind that I brought Taehyung along.” Taehyung sits down next to Yoongi and shoots you a cheeky smile. 

“No, I don’t mind,” you replied, “Now I have two of my favorite people in the world.” While there was a part of you that wanted to be alone with Yoongi, you were happy to see Taehyung as well. As an apology for being a third wheel, Taehyung even offered to order and pay for all your drinks: an Americano for Yoongi, a vanilla latte for you and a hot chocolate for himself. 

Once the three of you were all settled with your drinks, you asked the two men how their day was. 

“Surprisingly, it wasn’t too busy. Just going over…” you listen to Yoongi say before drifting into one of your vivid daydreams. You knew it was rude but sometimes you couldn’t help it, you get distracted way too easily. Yoongi knew this about you. This definitely wasn’t the first time you spaced out while he was speaking. Despite this, you always urge him to keep talking since you snapped out of it at some point. 

However, Taehyung didn’t know this trait about you and proceeds to wake you up from daydream mode. With a loud snap of fingers he called out your name and your attention was now back to them. 

“Oh sorry about that,” you said bashfully. 

Unbothered, Yoongi took a sip of his coffee. “No, it’s fine babe. Seemed like you had a good daydream going on.” Both of you chuckled lightly but Taehyung stayed quiet. He wasn’t particularly annoyed by your daydreaming but he did think it was rude to not pay attention. 

Half-jokingly, he retorted, “Wow hyung, who knew you were dating such a space cadet.” 

“Huh?,” you responded. Taehyung’s seemingly lighthearted remark caught you off guard. 

Taehyung chuckles. “I knew all knew you were ditzy but jeez.” 

You didn’t know how to respond so you giggled nervously. Even though you knew he was joking around, the way he said it made you feel a bit embarrassed. 

Seeing your reaction, Yoongi glares at Taehyung. “Hey, I’d appreciate you not making fun of my girlfriend.” 

“But hyung, I was just-” 

“I really don’t give a shit whether you were kidding or not, I want you to apologize to her.” 

Knowing better to not disobey this particular hyung of his, Taehyung turns to you with apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he says genuinely. 

You reached over to give his hand a comforting pat and smiled at him. “Thanks, Tae.” 

You knew he was joking around but it was still nice to hear him apologize. 

Hoseok

Everyone in the group knew how close you were to Hoseok. Dating for almost a year already, he was your entire world. Your rock. Your knight in shining armor. And because of his supportive and caring nature, you always went to him whenever you needed something. Hoseok made it clear to you that you could always rely on him. 

“Hobi, can you please pick me up?” you’d ask him on the phone and Hoseok would immediately be on his way. 

“Hobi can you open my bottle? It hurts my hand”, and he’d gladly open it for you. 

“Hobi, I feel really scared and anxious right now, I need you,” and he would drop whatever he was doing to find and comfort you. 

To some people, you would see this as Hoseok being a great boyfriend. However, others might just view it as a little too dependent. Others like Jungkook, apparently. 

Jungkook didn’t have anything against you; he really liked for the most part. He just thought it was strange for a girl your age to be so reliant on someone, be it her boyfriend or not. He didn’t understand how someone as fiercely independent as his hyung would be interested in someone who is the complete opposite. It was an opinion that he kept to himself until one day. 

You knew that today Hoseok and the guys had a dance practice and you thought it would be a great idea to make a surprise visit. On your way to the studio, you were about to turn a corner when you see your boyfriend and Jungkook in the hallway. It looked like they were having a serious conversation so you contemplated whether to wait until they were finished or greet them anyway. That’s when you hear your name being suddenly dropped. 

“Y/N?,” Hoseok asks quizzically, “What about her?” 

“I noticed that she’s been asking a lot of you lately, things that she could definitely do on her own,” Jungkook hesitantly begins, “I just find it odd that she’s that so dependent on you.”

You felt a rush of heat rising in you from shear embarrassment as you hid away the two men. You didn’t know that Jungkook thought this way about you and you worried if the other’s felt the same way. “Ugh, this is why you don’t eavesdropped, stupid,” you thought to yourself. You were about to leave when you heard Hoseok beginning to speak. 

“To be perfectly honest, Jungkook, I like that fact that I’m the one Y/N comes to when she needs help. I like being needed, especially from someone I love. She’ll get to a point where she can be more self-reliant but I’m not going to rush her. So don’t worry too much about her or our relationship, okay?” He finishes his speech with a friendly pat on Jungkook’s shoulder.” 

“Sorry, hyung. I didn’t mean to be rude,” he says with a guilty look on his face. Hoseok just responds with a hearty laugh as he puts his arm around the maknae and leads back to the dance studio. 

Still standing behind that corner, you couldn’t help but contain the sweet smile on your face. You were still a bit dejected over what Jungkook said about you but the fact you had a boyfriend that will defend no matter what made you feel so blessed. He was truly your everything and you’d be lost without him. 

You took a moment to compose yourself before heading towards the dance studio. 

Namjoon

It was no secret to anyone that knew you that your favorite thing to eat was anything pickled. Growing up in a family that pickled everything from cucumbers to watermelon rinds, you always found comfort munching on the tangy, savory food. Your love for pickled foods reached an all new high when you moved to South Korea and fell totally in love with kimchi and all its regional variants. 

To an outsider, they might see your love for pickled food a bit obsessive, but not Namjoon. Knowing how much you love eating them, he made sure stock up on your favorites at the dorm. So whenever you come over to hang out, you’ll have a tasty snack to eat. This sweet gesture made you love the man even more, if that was even possible in the first place. 

The rest of Bangtan thought your obsession with pickles somewhat peculiar but also adorably quirky. Well everyone except for one person: Yoongi. As much as he enjoyed pickled foods himself, he personally thought you took it too far since he’d always catch you eating them. He even avoids sitting and speaking to you due to you sometimes smelling like strong brine. But he tried his best to hold his tongue since it didn’t hurt anyone. 

One day, Yoongi walks into the living room of the dorm and finds you and Namjoon sitting at the table. You, of course, was enjoying some pickled okra your mother sent you in a care package. 

“Hi, Yoongi!,” you squeaked as you got up to give him a hug. 

Yoongi became rigid in your embrace but soon reciprocated the hug rather awkwardly. Pulling back from the hug, he says hurriedly, “Uh, I have to run some errands. See ya guys around,” then hightails it out the door. 

His behavior leaves you puzzled. “What’s with him?,” you asked Namjoon but he just shrugs in response. 

That very visit, you decided to spend the night at the dorm. You were walking out of the bathroom after brushing your teeth when you heard Namjoon and Yoongi talking in the next room. As you tippy-toed closer to that room, you quickly realized they were talking about you. 

“I’m sorry Joon but I just think it’s her obsession with pickles is kinda gross,” Yoongi belts out, “I mean she eats them all the time.” 

Before even hearing Namjoon's response, you quickly walked to his bedroom and buried yourself in his sheets. A few moments later, you hear Namjoon walk into the room and feel the bed slightly shake as he climbs into bed. 

“You still awake, honey?,” he sweetly asks. 

“Yeah,” you said in a somber tone, still buried under the sheets. 

“Hey, is there something wrong?” 

It takes you a moment before responding. “Do you think I’m gross, Joon?” 

Namjoon sighs heavily. “I’m guessing you overheard our conversation. How much did you hear?”

“I only heard what Yoongi said then immediately went towards the room. Joonie, I’m sorry I’m like this.” 

That’s when Namjoon pulled the covers from you and cupped your flustered face. “Hey, you have nothing to be sorry about. Who cares what you love to eat? I love you for who you are, Y/N. That’s what I told Yoongi hyung and now I’m telling you.” He then gives you a warm, gentle kiss on the lips. 

Overwhelmed by Namjoon’s intense sincerity and affection, you felt your eyes start to water. “You don’t mind that my kisses sometimes taste like vinegar?” 

Namjoon chuckles at your question. “Not one bit.” 

Jimin 

The guys decided it would be nice to have a relaxing movie night and you were invited to tag along. 

“How long’s the movie?,” you asked?

“It’s pretty long,” Jimin says before he clicks the play button on the Netflix screen. 

“Bet Y/N’s gonna pass out halfway towards the middle,” Taehyung jokes. 

You scoff. “I’m not gonna fall asleep this time.” You said this with such confidence but the boys didn’t buy it. You were known to fall asleep at any time, at any occasion. Whether you were on a day trip or at an awards show, you’d often find yourself passing out somewhere, causing some slight embarrassment on your part. And unfortunately, tonight was no different. 

“Baby, wake up,” Jimin softly says to you as he gently shakes you awake. 

You quietly moaned as you sat up on the couch in the dorm’s living room. “Is the movie already over?” you said groggily, rubbing the sleepiness from your eyes. 

Jimin faintly smiles at you. “Afraid so. 25 minutes in - a new record for you,” he teased. You gave him a quick glare. 

“I had a strange dream. I wasn’t in it myself but you and Namjoon were there. Namjoon was kinda irritated and said something like ‘what’s the point in even inviting her to these things if she’s just going to fall asleep?’ Good thing it was just a dream, right?” You looked up at Jimin and saw a weird expression on his face. “What?”

He sighs and says, “That wasn’t a dream, Y/N. I was hoping you didn’t hear that.” 

“So, Namjoon did say that,” you asked. Jimin nodded. Even though you were the one that fell asleep during the movie, you couldn’t help but feel a bit hurt and ashamed. You bit your lip before speaking again. “Is he mad at me?”

Jimin grabs your hands, gently caressing your finger. “Oh, not at all, sweetie. But even if he was mad, it doesn’t matter,” he says assuringly. “Wanna know what I told him?,” he asked you. You silently nod. “I told him that you’re my sleeping beauty and I wouldn’t change that about you.” 

His lovely compliment catches you off guard, causing a light blush to appear on your face. Softly smiling at him, you respond, “You’re such a cheeseball, Park.” 

Taehyung

You were out on a dinner date with your boyfriend Taehyung, and you were trying your best to hide your nervousness. It wasn’t the fact that you were out with Tae that made you nervous since you've been together for a few months already. What made you nervous was that this date was actually a double date with Hoseok and his own girlfriend. Even though this wasn’t your first time hanging out with anyone from the group, let alone Hoseok, you still get anxious in settings like this. Especially settings that involved eating. You didn’t consider yourself a gross eater, you just become hyper-aware when you eat around others. Heck, it took you awhile to feel comfortable eating around Taehyung. 

The four of you were sitting together at a fancy restaurant, and you tried your best to ease your nervousness by engaging in the conversation. When the food arrived, all hope was lost as you felt the sensation of butterflies in your stomach. Everyone eagerly dug into their plates as you just sipped your water, hoping it will calm your nerves. 

Taehyung poked your hand, getting your attention. “You alright, babe?”

You quickly nodded. “Yeah, I’m just not that hungry for some reason.” 

Overhearing this, Hoseok turns your way with a cheeky smirk on his face. “What’s wrong, Y/N? Are you afraid we’ll all find out your disgusting eating habits?” he boffs. 

Hoseok was merely kidding but his joke still managed to make you choke on your water. Taehyung rubs on your back for comfort as he gives a stern look to Hoseok. 

“Hey, hyung,” he says in a rather serious tone, “Please don’t bully my honey pie.” 

Hoseok scoffs in return. “Come on, I’m just kidding!,” he belts. Hoseok’s girlfriend proceeds to slightly hit him hard on the shoulder. “What did I do?”

She looks at him. “Like you’re one to Hoseok. Most of the time, you eat like a feral pig.” 

You and Taehyung tried your best to stifle your laughter after hearing such a brutal dig. Although shocked at first, Hoseok just laughs it off and goes back to eating. 

You then look at Taehyung and smile. “I think I’m actually hungry now.” 

Jungkook 

You were meeting the boys for the very first time today. Despite you and Jungkook’s relationship being relatively new, he just couldn't wait any longer to introduce you to his hyungs. While this made you feel extremely special, you were also scared out of your mind that you’ll embarrass yourself in front of them. Possibly making Jungkook regret being interested in you in the first place. 

When you told Jungkook about your worries, he reassured you that everything will be fine. As you were standing outside of the door of their dorm, you really hope what Jungkook said was true. With a shaky hand, you rung the doorbell. As you expected your boyfriend opened the door. 

“Hey,” he says flirtily. 

“Hey, yourself. Are they here?”

“Yep, they can’t wait to meet you. Come on in.” He takes your hand, leading you towards the living room. 

“Hyungs,” Jungkook begins excitedly, “this is my girlfriend, Y/N.” 

The six men got up from the couch and hurriedly walked over to meet you. They politely bowed and flashed friendly smiles, however it doesn’t ease your anxiety. 

“H-hello, it’s not to meet you,” you stammered. You let go of Jungkook’s hand and started to fidget your fingers self-consciously. 

It was clear as day that you were extremely nervous. Knowing how important you were to Jungkook, the guys went out their way to make you feel welcome. You spent the entire day having fun with everyone; eating snacks, playing party games and just overall playing around. It seemed like the guys really liked you, which caused you to fidget less as the time went by. 

By evening, it was about your time to leave and you went to find Jungkook so he could drive you home. You asked Yoongi where Jungkook was and he mentioned seeing him toward his room. After getting directions, you head towards his room. Seeing that his door was opened you cautiously went inside, not realizing that Jungkook was having a conversation with Seokjin. 

“Don’t take it too personally, Jungkook. I’m just not sure if I like her yet,” Jin says to Jungkook, neither noticing you in the room yet. 

“But why hyung?,” Jungkook says, hearing the slight hurt in his voice. 

Seokjin sighs before speaking again. “She’s just super awkward, you know? Painfully so.” 

His blunt words hit you hard inside. It turns out you were wrong about everyone liking you. The room fell into a brief yet excruciating silence. It took you clearing your throat for them to finally notice you in the room. 

Surprised, Jungkook turns to you. “Y/N?” 

“It’s time for me to go. Can you take me home?” 

“Uh, yeah, just let me get my keys?”  

Before following Jungkook out the room, you gave Seokjin a meek wave goodbye then left. 

On your way to the car, you tried to distract yourself by talking about how much fun you had but Jungkook could tell you were still hurt by Seokjin’s words. Before having the chance to open the passenger door, Jungkook spins you around and pulls you into his embrace. 

“I don’t know how much you heard from Jin hyung,” he says into your ear, “But it’ll be fine, Y/N. Soon enough, he’ll see you how I see you: an amazing and beautiful girl.”

You didn’t know what to say at that moment, so you just quietly sobbed into his shoulder. 

[what-if-i-imagine]

“You’re so obsessed to find someone to love you because you can’t love yourself.”

Requested by my goddess: @a-single-drop-of-ink​

Wally looked up from his home work the moment he heard the familiar feather light footfalls coming down the hall of his dormitory.

 In barely a second he was at the door opening it up, smiling at his roommate whose hands were full of groceries. His roommate smiled back that perfect smile that could make any heart melt, and Wally remembered what he had told his Aunt over FaceTime the night before while he was out.

“He makes it feel like home.”

His Aunt had gone from her joking, bubbly happiness to a more subdued, love-struck but still happy state. She had given him that same smile she made any time they went through her photo albums of her and his uncle.

“Be careful,” she told him. Because she knew. Wally had told her all about his roommate, and she knew just as well as him where this would go.

“How was your date last night?” he asked with a mischievous smile, fighting back the thoughts in the back of his head.

“Well, I didn’t come back to the dorm, did I?” Dick, his roommate, replied easily. It was true, he hadn’t come back to the dorm at all the night before, shooting Wally a text around midnight saying this new girl he liked was letting him stay at her place. He pretended to rack his brain to remember her name, even though it was burned into his heart just like all the others.

“Kori, right? The foreign exchange student?” he asked.

“Yup,” Dick popped the P as a grin grew on his face. “She was great Wally, she was perfect. I think she’s the one.”

“You said that about Barbara G too. And Vic from sci. And Raya from the gym. And Roy from the coffee shop-”

“You’ve made your point!” Dick laughed, wacking him playfully with a box of plastic forks. “And for your information, all of them were the one, they just didn’t realize it.”

“You mean how Vic was too focused on school for commitment, Raya wasn’t looking for something serious, Barbara fell for one of her bandmates, and Roy was in love with your younger brother?” Wally asked.

“You know, you can be really mean sometimes,” Dick said with no heat.

“Just pointing out the obvious,” Wally shrugged. “What are we having for dinner?”

“Well you have the choice between the two greatest delicacies in the land,” Dick said with much flourish, unpacking the groceries into their mini fridge and food bin. “Either the Irish dish of Luck Charms cereal, or the Japanese dish of Ramen.”

“I think I’ll go for the Japanese option tonight. I had cereal this morning.”

“That shouldn’t stop you.”

Wally rolled his eyes and got out one of the disposable bowls they should probably not be using in a microwave and started on his food. As he and Dick watched the opening credits for the most recent cheesy romcom tv show Dick had gotten addicted to, Wally wondered if Kori was really going to be the one. The one was going to some eventually, obviously, but how soon was that going to be?

The actual one only showed up a month later, after Dick and Kori’s civil breakup. By Civil, Wally really meant explosive by anyone else's terms, but for Dick this was like a beautiful kiss goodbye.

Of course, Dick always ended up good friends with his exs and his exs’ new partner. There was even a joking group chat with them all, with one being added each time Dick made up with his most recent breakup.

But at the start, his breakups were always messy. And Dick, in turn, became messy for at least a week afterwards.

He stumbled into the apartment that night, obviously recovering from a hangover caused by morning drinking with Roy, a new set of hickies around his neck and a hand in his disheveled hair.

“It’s a Monday, Dick,” Wally pointed out, barely glancing up from his homework.

“I’m honestly over caring,” Dick snapped a bit, chugging down one of Wally’s protein shakes from the fridge. Wally didn’t react, either to the snipish behavior or the obvious disturbance of personal property. He was used to this. Trying to point out a mistake to Dick or tell him what was good for him automatically set off that same defensive part of his brain that came into play while fighting with his father.

“So who were they?” Wally asked, referring to the hickies.

Dick hummed in though, looking down at himself, “The older ones from last night are from Helena, Babs’s other bandmate. The newer ones were courtesy of Little Wing’s friend Artemis. I think she’s related to Donna somehow?”

“No follow up dates?”

“Shut up,” Dick snapped again. His expression softened after as he sighed, taking another sip of the protein shake and putting it back with the mercy of leaving at least half for Wally’s nighttime run. “Sorry. Just tired.”

“I can tell,” Wally said levelly.

As he watched Dick fall back onto his bed, burying his face in his pillow, he let a common thought when it came to Dick’s breakup cross his mind.

He always does this to himself. Subconsciously on purpose.

It wasn’t Dick’s fault. He had been like this as long as Wally could remember, and probably even longer than their friendship had been in place. The cycle was a vicious one that Dick had had on repeat since he was fifteen from what Wally knew.

Crush hardly, love wholly, hurt deeply.

Fall in love, get in a relationship, torture self when it ends.

Wally knew what a self destructive man looked like, and Dick was definitely one. It ran in his family based off of what he had seen of his father, Jason and Cassandra.

“I called in an order for pizza,” Wally informed him, looking back to his laptop. “It should be here in an hour. Got a new movie too while I was at the store that I think you’ll like.”

“Did you get ice cream?” Dick asked, muffled by his pillow.

“Three different kinds and a bottle of cheap wine.”

“You’re a saint.”

Once Wally finished the first draft of his thesis and the pizza arrived, the both crawled down to their little cozy spot in front of their tv that sat on the ground.

The movie was shitty. Most of the ones dick liked were, but Wally still loved watching them with Dick. This particular movie was a hallmark movie from the early 2010s, which should say enough about the plot alone, and it was Dick’s perfect brand of sappy that hit a little too close to home where the girl realizes her boyfriend was shitty and she belonged with the gymnast heart throb with a heart of gold.

“Hey Wally,” Dick whispered as the main character ran into the arms of her true love.

“Yeah?” Wally hummed, leaning back into Dick’s hand where it was gently scratching at his head.

“What’s wrong with me?” Wally wouldn’t have even heard him if he weren’t leaned back on his chest. He didn’t freeze, but his mind did stutter for a moment. He was shocked when he subtly checked the wine bottle to see it was completely untouched.

“What do you mean Dickie?” he asked, glancing up only for Dick to nudge his head back down to face the tv.

“You know what I mean,” Dick said. “What’s wrong with me? All these people in the movies, all of my exs and friends, it only takes them one or two tries before they find the one. Why can’t I?”

Something wet dripped onto Wally’s head as Dick pressed his nose into his hair. He was only slightly shaking, but Wally could still feel it at every point of contact.

Wally got up, gently fighting past Dick’s refusal to let him go too far and turned to face him. He leaned forward on his knees between Dick’s legs and cupped his face, stroking away the small streams of tears.

“Because you want someone who loves you,” Wally answered, staring into those deep, pain filled eyes. The pain he saw there he recognized, maybe not as his own, but still as familiar. A deeply rooted self depreciation that offered no room for growth.

“That doesn't explain why I go out every day when I’m alone looking for someone new,” Dick defended, more tears falling. “It doesn’t make sense, Wally. Wanting love doesn’t explain this mess.”

“It does, Dick. You’re so obsessed to find someone to love you because you can’t love yourself,” Wally knew he was crossing a few lines by saying this, but he couldn’t stop himself. IT was obvious in the way Dick found his identity in the people he loved. His family, his friends, and above all else his long list of past lovers for however long they lasted could testify to that. Dick looked like he didn’t want to believe what he was hearing and was more confused than ever. Wally took it as a sign to elaborate.

“You constantly go out looking for these boys and girls because you want them to love you enough that you forget how empty you feel. It’s not your fault, it’s just the way you and your family work. You don’t think you deserve love, but you can't stand yourself when you’re without it.”

“Wally,” Dick’s voice broke and hitched, his face flooding with the horror of how on point his words were. Tears spilled faster than before, and Wally leaned even further forward to wrap his arms around his friend. He tangled his fingers gently in his hair and rhythmically rubbed his back, letting him cry it out on his shoulder.

“You’re wrong,” Dick said, voice wet and heavy with his tears.

“How am I wrong?” Wally whispered, barely a breath against the nape of Dick’s neck.

“It’s not- the only- reason,” Dick’s voice broke up with soft sobs.

Wally held him a little tighter, rocking awkwardly back to sit on his legs as Dick moved to his knees too without breaking any contact. Dick was leaning more into him now, and Wally silently prayed he wouldn’t fall back with the weight into the  that was now playing the ending credits,

“It’s because I love someone else,” Dick sobbed miserably. “I love someone else, but they don’t deserve the mess I am.”

“That’s not true. It’s just what your brain wants you to think,” Wally shook his head.

“It is true,” Dick was barely audible over his heart wrenching sobs. He clung to Wally tighter, his fingers digging almost harshly into the back of Wally’s shirt.

“It’s true because it’s you. You’re the one.”

Wally froze this time, his breath completely stopping.

How many times he had dreamt of Dick saying those words, and none of those dreams happened like this.

Wally regained his composure as quickly as he did everything else in his life and was back to comforting his roommate.

“It’s okay Dickie,” he said, pressing a ghost-like kiss to his hair. “You’re the one too. You always have been.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won't. But we are going to get you help, okay? You need help Dick, and that’s not a bad thing. It’s normal to need help.”

“Are you going to call my dad?” Dick asked pitifully, the sobs dying down to sniffles.

“Maybe. If that’s what you want. We will talk about it in the morning when you’ve had more rest.”

“Okay.”

Dick went quiet for a moment then spoke again, “Hey Wally?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s easier to love myself when I’m with you.”

Wally didn’t say anything in response. He just kissed his head again and rocked them back and forth until Dick fell asleep.

[chibbybish]

Madly In Love (Chibs x Reader)

(Requested by @chibsytelford)

[word count: 1527]

[reading time: 00:12:12]

You had gone out for your usual grocery shopping. With a list in your hands you were searching for that one shampoo Chibs had asked you to buy for him, while humming your favorite song.

It was a busy day! You had to shop, cook and go to a party at the clubhouse. Chibs was already there to help everyone with preparations and you.. you were feeling so weak whenever you couldn't see him. If he wasn't in the room it felt as if the world was about to end. It wasn't an obsession, or at least that's what you told yourself every time you thought you couldn't last a minute without him.

Ah great, there is the shampoo!

You picked it up and rushed to buy a few ingredients for whatever was that you were gonna cook for the party.

If you finished fast enough you would see Chibs sooner, yes.

"Not an obsession." You reminded yourself. "Just a lot of love."

But what happens when love and obsession combine? But there was no obsession, right?

You wondered why such thoughts were invading your mind, but decided to focus on shopping.

When that was over, you rushed home.

You tied your hair in a cute ponytail and immediately started cooking. What were you gonna cook, anyway?

You thought of your mom. What would she cook?

And then it hit you: mini turkey meatballs, that's what she'd cook.

Your phone started ringing, interrupting your nostalgic thoughts about your mom. You hadn't seen her for several months; that's what you get when you decide to move to a whole different state, but that's not the point.

You looked at your phone's screen and saw Chibs' name on it.

You picked it up and heard his Scottish accent from the other side of the phone.

"Hey lass!" He said, cheerfully.

"Hey there." You spoke as you were getting the turkey ready.

"I am a drink away from getting totally wasted and I miss you!" He exclaimed.

"You're already drunk? The party hasn't even started yet!" You laughed.

"I can't last an hour away from you so I drink!" He mumbled.

His words made you feel surprisingly good.

"That's kinda mutual." You acknowledged.

"Kinda?!" He belted.

"Oh my god, my ear."

-I apologize my lady. When will you come?

-I am kinda cooking at the moment, so I guess in a couple of hours?

-That is too long, (y/n)!

-Stop drinking, okay?

-Sure thing, love.

-I'll see you soon.

-Bye!

As soon as you hung up on him, you went back to cooking.

Faster, (y/n)! Your old man can't last an hour without you. That stupid turkey will take too long, for God's sake.

Time passes kind of fast when you can't get your mind off of someone. Again, it's not obsession, you just love him too much, you thought.

"What is wrong with me today?" You asked yourself as you took the big plate with the meatballs and got out of the house.

The party had already started and you were late. All the good girls would be there, bringing their home-made food, but you were late.

You drove as fast as you could and once you arrived you fixed your hair and make up, looking at yourself in the car mirror.

Nobody was outside, but you could hear the loud music and everyone cheering.

The moment you were about to enter the clubhouse, Opie and Jax came out.

"Oh!" Jax exclaimed.

"It's (y/n)!" Opie said, with a terrified look on his face.

"Hello!" You greeted them.

"Um, (y/n), you probably shouldn't go in there!" Jax smiled nervously. "How about you sit and smoke with us for a little?" He recommended.

"Oh yes, I bought these amazing cigarettes today!" Opie yelled, sweating.

"What are you guys talking about?" You asked and chuckled. "Come on let's go inside." You walked past them and that's when you saw it.

Chibs. With a girl. Kissing. On a sofa. And every person in that room knew that Chibs was with you.

The turkey meatballs fell on the floor making the most disturbing noise anyone had ever heard.

They all turned to look at you, except of Chibs who was busy kissing that... Thing.

Anger. All you remember feeling was anger.

Clay tried to warn Chibs but he hadn't even realised you were there.

"Filip Telford, what the hell do you think you're doing!" You shouted, finally making both him and the girl turn to look at you.

Your body eventually took control and the next second you grabbed the girl's hair and threw her on the floor.

Jax and Opie tried to stop you but you had turned into an angry beast.

Gemma threw a glass of water on Chibs' face in an attempt to make him realise what was going on and, oh, he did.

"Jesus Christ!" He yelled, standing up. "Lass, look at me!" He was about to touch you but then you turned towards him and gave him a slap so strong he fell on the floor.

"Don't you dare call me that again! We are over." You shouted, with tears rolling on your cheeks.

"I hate you with all my heart!" You screamed before leaving the clubhouse.

You got into the car and drove fast.

You felt bad. You felt like you shouldn't have slapped him. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Your life was a series of wrong decisions, acting before thinking.

"Screw that." You thought, as tears blocked your view for a split second.

You saw Chibs behind you, with his Harley.

"God." You mumbled and drove even faster.

When you finally arrived back home you rushed to lock the door but Chibs didn't let you.

"Please let me talk to you, please!" He kept telling.

"Stay the hell away from me!" You yelled but you weren't as strong as him. Even drunk, he actually managed to open the door and get in the house.

"(Y/n), please let me explain!" He tried to talk to you.

"No!" You shouted. "I am addicted to you!" You went on. He looked at you, shocked. "And you just-" your hands covered your face. "You ruined it." You added, finally feeling a weight leave your shoulders. "Why! Am I not good enough?" You looked at him, enraged.

"No, baby! Please listen to me, please." He begged you. "I was drunk, I didn't know what I was doing, I don't even remember her face!" He tried to explain.

"Please leave!" You ordered him.

"I am not leaving you!" He approached you but you took a step back, instantly regretting it. You couldn't say no to him. You actually prayed he wouldn't leave.

"I hate you!" You lied. "I am doing my best to ignore those girls around you everyday, but what the hell was that?"

-I was drunk! He repeated, emphasizing every word.

"You broke my heart!" You screamed.

"Come on, (y/n).." Chibs looked desperate. "Come on, baby... You know I was drunk.. come on.. there's no other woman in the world for me than you. You are the only one I love." He whispered.

This time, when he attempted to approach you again, you didn't take any steps back. You were still angry and sad and hurt. You wanted to beat the shit out of him. But how could you do that when with a word he could make you vulnerable.

He tried to hug you but you started beating his chest with your fists.

He didn't say a word. He kept coming closer and closer until you were finally in his arms, feeling like a huge mess.

"I am madly in love with you, for God's sake!" You cried, loudly.

"I'm here baby." He kissed the back of your head. "I love you so much." He added. "I'm so sorry..." He ended, caressing your back.

His smell. His hug. His voice. You loved everything about that man.

It wasn't the first time you were in love but him? It felt as if he was a drug.

You finally spread your arms and hugged him as tight as possible.

He started kissing your neck and face, until his forehead just touched yours.

"I do not expect you to forgive me." He muttered.

"How could I even stay mad at you, to begin with." You whispered.

He started kissing you, passionately and you responded immediately. It felt as if you couldn't get enough of each other.

"I am so in love with you." He said, out of breath.

"I should've kicked you out of the goddamn house tonight." You kissed him again.

"You are the light of my life." He said.

You took his hand and walked to the bedroom.

"Can we please just.." it seemed like you couldn't finish the sentence.

You lied down next to each other and just stayed there, hearing each other's breathing. His body touching yours, his warmth calmed your nerves, until you both fell asleep.

At that moment, you decided that you wouldn't really cook turkey meatballs again.

[sunnyborabora]

Obsession (Suhø x Reader)

You’re in love with a man you know nothing about, but it doesn’t stop you from falling deeper and deeper. 

Hi! Here is a little drabble to celebrate EXO’s comeback that was a real masterpiece! Junmyeon bias wrecked me hard I am still crying ndnbhdhdhd Anyway what did you think of the come back? And the concept? I loved I am still crying over it.... I tried to write x exo Suhø differently than I would write Junmyeon. I feel like he would be a mastermind, cold and calculating, violent in his acts but eager to find his own identity and not to just be the other version of Suho. Tell me what you think about it!

Tags: Super explicit smut, porn without plot, soft bdsm,Suhø has feelings, kinda sad tho :/ 

« You like it, don’t you ? » You were like paralyzed as he was whispering in your ears all those obscene things. His hard rock chest was pressed against your back and you could feel his muscle contract. « Babygirl has been bad, so so bad » You could sense his smirk in his words, the way his large hand was serpenting along your neck to tighten around your throat. Your breath itched as his hold was becoming tighter. You couldn’t see his face but you knew. And maybe it was better that way. You were already so intoxicated by him, you knew how his appearance was something that would fuck up your brain even more. « Suho please… -Oh come on… I can’t give it to you so easily » How did you even find yourself in this situation. You were just an innocent cashier, all you did was being nice. And maybe falling in love with the guy that always came into your shop to buy food. He was fascinating. You couldn’t stop looking at him, your heart racing every time he was coming into the store. His hood low on his head, you were only able to see his dark eyes accentuated by strong brows. You were unable to look at him in the eyes, this man was truly sending shivers down your spine. He was coming more and more, every time enticing the most embarrassing reaction from you. Your body was reacting to his in a way that you couldn’t explain. He was seeing this, you, how you would blush, how you would look away. How you seemed to wait for his arrival. But today has been different. The day your relationship took a turn was when you had a night shift. He had not come yet and it was almost the time for you to close the shop. You were on your way to close when someone entered. But it wasn’t who you hoped to see. « Sorry sir we are closed ». But you really didn’t have the time to react when the stranger pointed the gun at you. You dropped your keys, your body going numb with fear. « Give me the money, don’t tempt anything » And you didn’t. You rushed to the cashier and opened it as fast as you could. As you were handling him the money he grabbed your wrist making you tumble and tripped. « Get up ! » You yelped in pain as his hold tighten around your wrist. « The fuck is happening ? » You turned toward the entrance as a deep voice resonate in the space. It was the man, his familiar silhouette triggering a flow of emotion. Tears started streaming down your face as you try to get away from the man holding you. « Don’t get closer fucker ! Just go and I won’t shoot your dumb face ! » He didn’t move a muscle. The way the artificial light was hitting his face was making him look intimidating, scary even. You felt the grip on your wrist becoming loose and you yeet yourself out. You felt the man turn around and expected to get shot, but you didn’t. You heard a big boom behind you and the scream of pain of someone. You turned around to see the raider on the ground. « Are you okay ? » You couldn’t answer, your throat so tight it was impossible for you to speak. Burning tears erupted from your ayes as you collapsed on the ground. You felt too strong hand on each side of your shoulders. « You’re not hurt right ? » You shook your head still crying. « Stupid girl. Putting yourself in dangerous situation. » He put you on your feet and you fell in his arms still weak from what you have lived. He let you hug him, taking comfort in his embrace. After a moment he grabbed your face in his hand, squishing your cheeks. « What if I did not come hm ? What would you have done ? » You did not answer. What could you have done ? Nothing. But him being here, him who saved you, and who was now holding you. « Hmm, baby is not answering », he smirked, his face coming closer to yours. « You look so scared, so fucking hot » You did not even blink when his mouth crashed into yours. It was violent, his hand clenching even harder on your jaw. « Stop, please » He released you, his mouth coming near your ear. « You want me to stop Y/n ? Are you sure ? » You started shaking in his arms, when his other hand winded along your curves. « How do you know my name ? -The question is what do I not know about you ? Pretty girl that always waits for me to come in hmm » He grabbed your ass, making you jump. « Call me Suho babygirl » And you did, whispering his name as he drags you in the storage room. For the first Suho fucked you senseless. Making you forget your fear, your insecurities. You were bent over the bench as he was trusting in you. Your knees were weak, but his strong hold on your hips was not allowing you to fall. « Fuck, Y/n, you're so tight, so fucking tight, so much more than I imagined » You tried not to think too much about how he imagined you two together before. But the slaps of hips against your ass was so loud, he had so much strength and a sort of animosity that could not be contained. You weren’t seeing anything as he was just moving you along his dick as he pleased, but you could feel something shifting behind you. He groaned deep, and you came for the third time on his dick, almost fainting. You couldn’t put a name on the type of relationship you had. Suho, as he told you to call him, never came back to the grocery store. He just knew where to find you. And every time he came, he would fuck you, so good you would almost lose your mind, and he would leave. You didn’t know anything about him, and he would never tell you anything. That was the rule. Sometimes, you would wonder, as he was settling besides you on your bed. With time, he was staying a bit longer every time. Sometimes he would hold you in his arms, letting you pass your hands through his deep red hair. His blue eyes were closed as if he was savoring those little moments. Even if you were doubting it. Today wasn’t different. He just seemed even more on the edge than usually. He pushed your skirt up around your waist, and you heard him catch his breath. « Fuck… » he sighed. You pushed your hips back towards him almost involuntarily, but he resisted. You let out a quiet whine as you watch him walk around you like you were a prey. He was wearing that obscene red suit, the color of his hair. It wasn’t buttoned up, and you could clearly see his chest and abs. His hair were styled in a way he looked like he had horns. « Now I can do anything I like to you, for as long as I like, » he said, his voice smooth but laden with danger. « Yes, » you say in a voice barely more than a whisper. « You wouldn’t disagree right. Babygirl would let me do anything to her. -Yes, I would. -Even if what I want is to break you? » He said, his voice deep and dark, as if he was mocking you. « Go on the bed baby, bend over and let me see that ass of yours » You did as he told you. As if his voice had a hypnotic power over you. He walked slowly back towards you, never taking his eyes off your body. You bit your lip so hard you thought it might bleed, trying to contain yourself as you heard him unbuckling his belt. Suho wasn’t a man of many words except when they were dirty, but his actions were even worse. Within seconds, you feel the biting pain of the leather striking your bare ass. Before you could respond, it was followed by another, harder blow, and you cried out as your body is ravaged by the perfect combination of pleasure and pain. A third loud crack echoed around the room. You clawed at the bed with your fingernails, gasping for breath as he slowly dragged the belt across your tender skin. You’re expecting, no, craving, the next one, and he knew it. Even without looking at him you can feel the sadistic smile on his face as he teased you. « I want you to ask for it, » he said, and you could swear his smirk was audible. You took a deep, shaky breath in and exhale slowly. « Please, Suho, fuck... » you cried softly, your voice shaking. He seemed satisfied with that, and you heard the belt swishing through the air before cracking across your skin one last time. Your body trembled as he traced the red marks with his fingertips. His touches wandered down to your inner thighs, making you moan softly. His own breath caught in his throat as his fingers wandered a little too far, and he felt how wet you were, how desperate you were for his touch, for his body. He pulled you up roughly by the hair, earning a small yelp of surprise from you, and turned you to face him. He stared at you for a second, but you could see it, his eyes glowing orange now, before kissing you roughly. It took you by surprise, because usually he would take on your hand and knees like an animal, it was unusual for him to kiss you. The only thing you were aware of was him, how his tongue was in your mouth and his hands were pulling your hair and grasping at your body and God, how much you wanted him. You didn’t know before knowing him, that it was possible to want, to love someone that much. Because even if you were doubting his feelings for you, you knew you loved him deeply. When his lips finally left yours, you gasped for air, and suddenly his lips were on your neck. You moaned into his hair, taking a deep breath of his scent, your voice wavering as he gently bit you, sending electric shocks through your body. Satisfied with your reaction, he bit you harder before sucking on the soft skin of your neck until he was satisfied that he had marked you. Marked you as his. He left another hickey on your thigh, as e was on his knees. It wasn’t usual. He would never put himself in a situation that would make him look inferior. But today he seemed particularly attentive. His warm breath was dangerously close to where you wanted his gorgeous face the most, and it took every ounce of self-control you had just to restrain yourself from clutching at his hair and redirecting him yourself. But you knew better. You knew you weren’t authorized to touch him. He looked up at you with his dark blue eyes, just seeing him looking at you like that, like a hawk watching you, that made you moan.When he finally parted his lips from your body, he took a step back, taking of his jacket, showing you his sculpted body. It was like he had been made by the gods themselves, but knowing him, he probably would a demon coming straight from hell to torment you. He unbuttoned his trousers, letting them set on his hips. He grabbed your ankle, drawing you closer to him in a swift motion. Something was different today. He looked into your eyes as he entered you. You sighed deeply, your eyes rolling back in pleasure as he filled you. He started slowly, fucking you with long, deep strokes, but as you both lose control he picks up the pace, fucking you relentlessly against the wall. He was looking deep into your eyes, his mouth hanging open. You were so tempted. You wanted to put your hands in his beautiful hair, mess it up. You wanted to touch him. You grabbed his biceps trying to stabilize you, your weak whimpers slowly turning into long, shaky cries of ecstasy as he brought you closer to orgasm. Just as you’re about to climax, he laughed, a quiet, dirty, sadistic laughter in your ear. « Yes come on princess come around my cock », he husked in your ear, as he kept trusting, faster and faster, as you come, throbbing around his cock. His trusts never stopped and you felt like you were going to come all over again. « Don’t… stop…Suho » you moaned in his ear and you hear him groaned. You sighed his name out loud, and he looked into your eyes and bit his lip as he slowly ran his fingers up your thigh again. He groaned under his breath as he felt you clench again and again. You simply nodded your head and moaned softly in response, mentally begging him to give you more. He pinned your hands above your head as he brushed his lips against the hickeys on your neck, then the bruises on your ribs, before leaving a trail of kisses from between your breasts, downwards, until he was looking up at you. His eyes had a weird orange tint. He grabbed your hips, pulled you towards him and gave you what you needed the most. You entwined your fingers in his hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingers as you scraped his scalp and cry out his name over and over again like a sacred mantra as he trusted in you hard, his hips rolling between your thighs. You came again, screaming his name as you hug him tightly. Seconds later, He was back trusting in you again, abusing your cunt again and again. He’s sensual and slow, occasionally pausing to catch your gaze or lightly kiss your lips. And you think you might cry. You wrapped your arms and legs around him, your bodies moving as one. You clung to him, slowly coming undone in his arms again and you hear him groaned and finally you felt the moment when the last string of his control gave out, he gave into his pleasure entirely, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he let himself go, his body shaking slightly as he came deep inside you, so deep inside, so much you thought his cum already dripping out of your cunt. The intensity of it wrenches another crashing wave of pleasure from your body. Feelings you can’t describe soar through you, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your voice gives out, cracking as you try to call out his name one last time.You stayed in each other's arms as you give and take from each other. It was the first time it ever happened. He was on his side, hugging you, still inside you. You felt so incredibly intimate. Tears started streaming down your face. « Don’t cry... » You couldn’t help yourself. You felt like something was wrong. « I have to tell you something… -What ? -I won’t be able to come for a while… » You knew it. You clutched your hands around his arm, not wanting to let go ever. « Y/n ? » You didn’t want him to leave. Every time he was disappearing after coming to see you was like he was taking a piece of you with him. « Don’t leave me. » He wanted to say something, but he didn’t. He seemed tormented. « Just stay safe while I am gone okay ? » You nodded still not letting go. « I’am not going anywhere right now, you can sleep. » His eyes were shining a weird hue. His red hair were a mess falling on his forehead. He looked so beautiful. You tried to fight against sleep, perfectly knowing that once you’ll be gone into Morpheus’arms, he’ll leave. But you couldn’t help it, weirdly enough you never felt this safe. Before falling asleep, you took a last look at his face, seeing him looking at you. « Don’t forget about me Suho. -I will never » He hugged you and you closed your eyes.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

On Your Side (Part 2)

Summary: The reader is feeling better after her first session and things are looking up when Jared meets a new friend...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jared x daughter!reader

Word Count: 4,700ish

Warnings: language

______

“Sup Padalecki’s,” said Jensen, wandering in through the front door an hour later.

“Hi,” you called, giggling as you ate some of your taco. 

“Well that sounds like today went good,” he hummed, walking back to the kitchen and family room. Your dad waved from the couch, a few containers full of food on the coffee table as you both held one up and ate, watching a movie. Your dad snickered and Jensen raised an eyebrow, stepping in further to the room and immediately groaning. “No! No! Turn it off!”

“She’s not scared of My Bloody Valentine though,” said your dad with a little laugh.

“Sometimes we watch and make fun of it,” you said.

“Here I brought you two some homemade brownies,” he said, setting the container down on the counter. “This is how I’m repaid.”

“This one sides with Tom,” said your dad.

“His friends were horrible and Tom got the short end of it,” you said.

“You’re cool again. Him...well he never was,” said Jensen, walking around the back of the couch, lifting up your dad’s beanie.

“Do you mind?” he asked, Jensen humming as he looked at the small cut on his forehead he’d gotten from the pool.

“Nope,” he said, walking around and checking out his ankle as your dad grumbled. 

“Ackles,” your dad grumbled as Jensen looked him over, ruffling his hair when he took a seat between you. “So how’d it go?”

“Don’t you think maybe that’s a bit of a personal question?” asked your dad.

“I meant your session, not hers, dumbass,” said Jensen, stealing a few nachos from a container.

“Oh. Good. Better,” he said. Jensen nodded and turned to you. “Jay…”

“Well excuse me for asking my niece how she’s doing after a hard day yesterday,” he said.

“I’m okay, Jensen. I promise,” you said. 

“See? It was that simple,” he said as he leaned forward and grabbed a burrito, your hand shooting to his wrist.

“That’s the extra cheese one,” you said. “The only extra cheese one.”

“I take it this belongs to you?” he asked with a smile.

“Girl time is coming up. I’d let her have it unless you want to lose that arm,” said your dad. You rolled your eyes, Jensen chuckling as he handed it to you. “You have two girls, loser. Have fun with the period talk. And the sex one. We just got all that out of the way on the same day.”

“Dad, no offense but I sort of called De and she came over to help you through it. She’s the one that took us shopping, remember?” you said.

“At least yours is old enough that she doesn’t open a whole pack of overnight pads and stick them all over the bathroom,” said Jensen with a shake of his head. “It was pretty funny though.”

“Well you brought her chocolate so that’s always appreciated,” said your dad.

“You got those little heat packs? De likes those. You can just slap it on your pajamas, leave it on all night. Much easier than the heating pad,” said Jensen.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you two were such experts on the best way to deal with a period. How many have you had?” you said with a tilt of your head.

“Fair point,” said your dad.

“So you did the sex talk the same day?” asked Jensen, Jared nodding as he went back to eating. “What was that like?”

“Kid already knew everything,” he said, Jensen turning his head back at you. “Health class.”

“What were you doing knowing all that at that age?” he asked.

“Because I’m not a dumbass?” you laughed. “Maybe it’s better if you have De handle that conversation.”

“Maybe. That’s a long ways off though,” he said.

“Maybe not. Girls don’t hit puberty when they get their period. Normally a bunch of other shit happens first. Growth spurt. Hair. You need deodorant. Acne. Boobs. Being a girl kinda sucks,” you said.

“It ain’t all bad,” said your dad. “Girls are pretty awesome.”

“You guys are pretty cute,” said Jensen. “Even if you are obsessed with Disney movies. Zepp loves ‘em too if I’m being honest.”

“He’s three so that’s not surprising,” you said, handing over part of the cheese burrito to him.

“What’s this for?” he asked.

“Thanks. For yesterday,” you said.

“Aw. I love you too, munchkin,” he said, throwing his free arm around your shoulders, smushing his cheek against yours.

“Jensen,” you groaned.

“Keep her there while I take a picture,” said your dad, pulling out his phone. He hopped up on one foot and you saw a pout on his face. “Y/N.”

“Fine,” you said, putting on a smile, your dad standing there until you felt a tickle and you laughed as he took a picture.

“Got it,” he said as he sat back down.

“You two have been pulling that trick on me since I was two,” you said.

“Cause it’s fun,” said your dad. You rolled your eyes and went back to the movie for a few minutes, Jensen wiping his hands off when he finished with his food. “Heading out?”

“Mhm. Just stopping by for a minute. I’ll see you guys around,” he said.

“Night,” you both said as he headed back down the hall towards the front door.

“He seems clingy, don’t you think?” you asked.

“He’s worried is all. Uncle Jensen is a quiet worrier if you haven’t noticed,” said your dad.

“I know that. He seems weird is all,” you said.

“Well he found out yesterday that two people he loves are hurting. How do you think that made him feel?” he said.

“Not awesome,” you said.

“Mhm,” he said.

“I’ll be right back,” you said. You hopped out of your seat and jogged to the front door. You pulled it open as Jensen opened his car door. He paused as you ran outside and over to him. You gave him a quick hug, Jensen chuckling.

“Thanks, dork. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

“Dad and I are okay you know,” you said.

“I know,” he said. “Someone has to watch your backs though.”

“Dad’s never been as alone as I thought he was,” you said.

“Never. Neither are you. Now go. There’s too much sappiness going on lately. Remind me to push you in the pool when you guys are over this weekend,” he said.

“Can your frail old man body even do such a thing?” you said.

“Hey you know, Chris Evans? The guy you think is hot? My age.”

“First off, he’s younger than you. Second, he’s not ugly,” you teased.

“Jared! Your child is misbehaving!” shouted Jensen.

“I’m so proud of you sweetie!” you heard shouted back.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Jensen as you headed back inside. “Help him up to bed. That ankle is still pretty bruised.”

“I will,” you said. “You don’t have work tomorrow do you?”

“I haven’t had work since March,” he said with a smirk. “Aside from popping in the brewery. What’s up?”

“Can you maybe go swimming with him while I’m at school? I think he’s a little scared of the water now,” you said.

“Yeah I can do that,” he said.

“Thanks,” you said.

“Night,” he said. You hopped back inside and locked up, grabbing the container of brownies and plopping back on the couch.

“You almost missed the grocery store part,” said your dad, taking a dessert when you offered them. “Everything all good?”

“Yup. We’re good.”

Two Weeks Later

“You’re like, the best dad ever,” you said as your dad drive the two of you home from dinner after therapy.

“I know. Barbecue for dinner tends to help too,” he said.

“You know, you don’t have to drive me to therapy. I got my own car,” you said.

“Alright. You can take yourself next week,” he said. You hummed and stared out the window, giggling to yourself. “What?”

“Did you see that lady on the side of the road? She was kicking her tire,” you said.

“She was huh,” he said, pulling over onto the shoulder and putting in reverse. 

“Dad.”

“We’ll just check. Cell service is always spotty around here. Good deed for the day,” he said. “Could be some college student that doesn’t know anyone around here.”

“Fine,” you said as you came to a stop. He hopped out of the car and you watched in the rear view as a pretty dark haired woman spun around. You saw them talk for a moment and her face soften before your dad was back on the car. “What was it?”

“Sounds like her battery is dead. I told her we’d give her a jump,” he said, pulling out in the road before he turned around, parking the cars facing each other. “You get out too. I can show you how to use jumper cables if you ever got to.”

“Or I can call triple A,” you said.

“Or there’s no cell service and I don’t want you to be reliant on the help of a stranger.”

“That literally makes no sense. You need another car-“

“Y/N,” he groaned, going on and on until you took off your seatbelt. “Careful getting out.”

“Duh,” you said. You climbed out as your dad went to the back, wandering over to the hood.

“Hi,” said the woman with a tired sigh. 

“Hi,” you said, your dad carrying back two cables.

“Y/N, pop my hood for me. And uh…” he trailed off, staring at the woman.

“Gen and got it,” she said, going to her door and pulling the lever. You walked back around, your dad holding up a cable. He showed you how they went on before he leaned back against the side of the truck. “Thanks. I got three kids under ten in the backseat that are getting more than a little hangry for dinner.”

“We have leftovers,” you said, your dad raising an eyebrow. “From...dinner.”

“They like cornbread?” he asked.

“I couldn’t-“

“You can have it,” you said, glancing in her backseat, spotting two small boys and an even smaller girl, all looking bored out of their minds. You grabbed the container from the backseat of your truck and held it out to Gen, watching her cautiously take it for a minute. “It’s still warm.”

“Thanks,” she said. She opened it up and took a bite before she went to the backseat and handed some out to each of the kids. “What do you guys say?”

“Thank you!” you heard from back there before she shut the door. 

“You guys are lifesavers,” she said. 

“Nah. Just trying to be a good role model for this one,” said your dad. “Should only be about ten or so minutes before you guys are on your way.”

“Must be easier with just the one,” she said. 

“Single dad with a teenage daughter. Oh yeah, piece of cake,” he laughed.

“Single mom with three small kids,” she said.

“You win,” he said with a laugh. You watched her laugh when he did, very quickly looking him up and down when he wasn’t looking. You heard a squeal in the backseat and she sighed. “You watch the munchkins. We’ll handle the car.”

You waited until she was back at the back door, nudging your dad’s side.

“What?”

“She’s cute,” you said quietly.

“Y/N.”

“Just saying. She likes you,” you said.

“She does not. Don’t bring it up again,” he said. You rolled your eyes, getting a warning glance from him. You held up your hands and crossed your arms as Gen came back. You watched quietly as they spent the next ten minutes flirting, your dad eventually grabbing the cables and heading to the back of the truck. 

“Hey Gen?” you asked. She gave you a smile as you glanced back fast. “Listen, my dad’s shy and I know he likes you but if you tried to give him your number, I think he’d really like that.”

“Oh, he was getting my number regardless,” she said with a quiet laugh. “But that’s good to know.”

“What’s good to know?” he asked.

“Oh, just girl stuff,” she said. You gave her a smile and slipped past your dad and into the truck, smirking as you sat there watching them for a minute. You watched your dad tried to make himself smaller and rub the back of his neck, eventually trading phones with Gen and swapping them back. He ducked back in the truck and you saw Gen take off with her kids.

“So…” you teased, watching him stare out the front windshield.

“Shut it,” he said, pausing before he held out his hand for a fist bump. “I’ll admit, she’s cute.”

“Oh, flirty dad’s embarrassed,” you said. “I like this.”

“Y/N,” he said, giving you a quick look.

“Sorry. I’ve just never seen you...flirt like that,” you said. “I thought you liked her.”

“I did. I do,” he said, resting his head against his hand.

“Dad?”

“I guess it’s just been awhile since I liked someone,” he said.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, quiet a moment before he put his hands on the wheel and started to get back on the road.

“Dad,” you said.

“Yeah baby?” he asked.

“You look confused...and happy.”

“That’s accurate,” he said.

“Okay,” you said.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay,” you said with a smile.

“Okay,” he said, ruffling your hair. “That was nice of you to give away your leftovers.”

“You so better take her out now,” you said.

“We’ll see kiddo. We’ll see.”

Friday Night

“You’re worse than a teenage girl,” you said, scrolling through your phone as you lay on top of your dad’s bed. “Jeans and a button down. Boom. You’re done.”

“She’s right. You’re overthinking this,” said Jensen as he was sprawled out beside you. “Now hurry up. There is a buffalo wing pizza with our names on it for dinner and it is for me and little Pads only.”

“Yeah it is,” you said, giving him a high five.

“Hey, why don’t you sleepover our house tonight?” asked Jensen. 

“Talk to your wife. I already was,” you said

“When did you ask De?” he asked. You showed him the text message from earlier in the day with a smirk, Jensen stealing your phone away.

“Dad!”

“Sometimes I wonder who the adult is out of you two,” said your dad, stepping back into the bedroom for the tenth time. He was in a light blue button down and a pair of dark jeans, fumbling with a gray beanie in his hands. “Y/N?”

“Dad, relax,” you said, rolling off the bed. You rolled up his sleeves some and took his beanie from him. He took a seat on the end of the bed as you fixed his hair. “Stop running your hands through it.”

“Why are you so nervous? This ain’t your first date, Padalecki,” said Jensen as he sat up.

“I like her. A lot and I don’t understand why so I’m freaking out just a smidge,” he said.

“Dad. You’ll be fine. Be yourself,” you said, handing his beanie back to him. “Back pocket. Just in case. And smile. And open the door for her. And tell her she looks pretty.”

“Alright, alright. I get the picture,” he said as he stood up and took the beanie back. “Am I good?”

“Perfect,” you said.

“There are uglier schmucks out there,” said Jensen, smiling to himself. “Yes, you look very nice, Jared. Have fun tonight, alright?”

“It’s just dinner and maybe a walk downtown,” he said.

“Well have fun dad,” you said. “Make smart choices.”

“They grow up so fast,” teased Jensen.

“I will murder you both,” he said.

“Nah,” you and Jensen said with a laugh.

“Alright. Call if you need anything,” he said.

“We won’t,” said Jensen, rolling off the bed. “Come on, squirt. We’ll see your dad tomorrow when he comes over for swimming, hm? Your new lady friend is welcome to join if you want.”

“She’s got three kids,” said your dad.

“Like I said, more than welcome,” said Jensen, grabbing your arm. “Let’s go.”

“Have fun dad!” you said, Jensen walking you down the hall towards your room.

“Grab your bag. I want some pizza.”

“You want more s’mores, Y/N?” asked De, offering the plate to you later that night.

“Sure,” you said, grabbing one before she bypassed the three sleeping kids sharing the big chair and handed it to Jensen. “Hey guys.”

“Mhm,” they hummed.

“I’ve never seen dad that nervous for a date before,” you said.

“I think your dad is excited and scared,” said De. “Jensen was.”

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

“Maybe a little,” he chuckled.

“They say men fall in love faster than women,” she said. “This loser knew he was in love with me the second week we knew each other. Didn’t say anything though until he shyly asked me out a month later.”

“Well it’s kind of scary to have such a reaction to someone. You gotta ease into it,” he said.

“So dad’s having a reaction,” you said.

“Yup,” said Danneel, the three of you spotting Zeppelin stirring awake. “We a little too loud for you, honey? Want to go up to bed?”

He nodded, staring at you as the other two started to wake up.

“Alright. Time for a piggyback ride,” you said. You scooped him up while his parents got the girls, carrying him in the house and up to his room. He peeled off his clothes and you laughed, grabbing some clean pajamas for him from his dresser and tugging them on him. “Night Zepp.”

“Night Y/N. You gonna be here for breakfast?”

“Mhm. I’m gonna hang out tomorrow. How does that sound?” you asked.

“Good. I love you,” he said, giving you a hug.

“I love you too. Go to sleep now, buddy,” you said, pulling his covers up and flipping off his light, turning on his nightlight before you pulled the door shut.

“How is she always done first?” laughed De when they came back out of the hall.

“Cause Zeppelin is in love with his big cousin,” said Jensen, the three of you piling downstairs and back onto the porch.

“I’m gonna make some hot fudge brownie sundaes for us and then maybe we can stick on a movie,” said Danneel.

“Yes please,” you said.

“Make mine with extra brownie,” said Jensen.

“Give me ten minutes,” she said, popping back inside.

“So everything else going good? School? Therapy?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said.

“You tell any of your friends you go?” he asked. You shook your head. “Scared of what they’ll think?”

“I’m not like, the popular girl in school, Jensen. I play soccer on the intramural team so I mean, I hang out with the popular kids but I’m not one of them,” you said.

“Not what I asked. What about your best friend?” he asked.

“Chris used to be my best friend but that sort of stopped when he moved and we broke up,” you said, crossing your arms. 

“Well you don’t have to tell anyone you don’t want to. I was just asking,” he said.

“I know,” you said, taking a deep breath. “I’m allowed to bring guests. If you ever wanted to...you know.”

“I’d love to. Anytime,” he said.

“Cool. Maybe someday you can come,” you said. 

“I’ll be looking forward to it.”

“You think dad’s having a good time?” you asked.

“I hope so. You guys are due for a win,” he said. “You said she’s a single mom?”

“Mhm. Three small kids. Two looked around JJ’s age, the other one the twins. I don’t really know anything else. She was pretty,” you said.

“Well I hope it works out for him,” he said.

“Me too.”

“Y/N,” said Jensen, banging on the door to the guest room the next morning. “You’re not sleeping the day away.”

“It’s Saturday,” you groaned, pulling your pillows over your head.

“Y/N.”

“Go away.”

“You dressed?”

“My pajamas? Why-“ you said, the door opening wide. You grumbled and burrowed down, Jensen humming as you heard him stand by the end of the bed. “Five more minutes.”

“Kids, guess who’s up!” shouted Jensen, a flurry of feet rushing down the hall.

“I hate you,” you said, Jensen chuckling as you felt someone jump up on the bed.

“Morning, Y/N!” you heard shouted in your ear.

“Good morning,” you said wearily as you sat up, all three of them in your bed. Jensen gave you a smirk as he spun around.

“Breakfast is in ten, guys,” he said as he headed out.

“Remind me to destroy him later,” you said. “Alright, alright. I’m up. Give me a few minutes guys to get dressed. Save me a seat, okay?”

“Mhm,” they said as they took off.

Fifteen minutes later you came downstairs to find a plate set for you at the counter. You immediately dug in, barely finishing before the kids were tugging you off to play outside.

“Y/N, keep ‘em in the yard,” said Jensen. “Please.”

“Mhm,” you said, spotting he and De both still in their pajamas. “Come on guys. Let’s go play with some chalk on the driveway.”

Three Hours Later

“Hey, munchkins,” Jensen called from under the front porch. “How about some lunch and then a dip in the pool to cool off?”

All three of them took off towards the house, Jensen walking out with a smile.

“They behave for you?” he asked.

“Perfect little devils like their parents,” you said.

“Sounds about right,” he said, tilting his head. “Is that a devil’s trap?”

“Mhm,” you said.

“Not bad,” he said. “You make sure they drink enough?”

“Yes, Jensen. We ducked down into the basement room a few times, gave ‘em some juice when they got hot. I’ve been babysitting them all since they were born,” you said.

“Alright smartass. Well, you’re relieved of duty. Your dad called, said Gen and the kids are gonna come over for a swim,” he said.

“Oh really?” you said. 

“Oh yes,” he said with a smirk. “It must have gone good.”

“Yeah it must have. Dad hasn’t had a second date since I was like ten,” you said.

“Yeah he has,” said Jensen. You tilted your head, Jensen shrugging. “Never heard him this excited though.”

“Well I’m happy he’s happy,” you said as you got to your feet. “So can I take the car back to our house to grab my suit?”

“You have a suit here. You always do,” he said. 

“Okay but dad isn't here and my fun, amazing Uncle Jensen would totally let me drive Baby-”

“Nope,” he said as he headed back towards the house.

“Oh come on! You said when the show was done!” you said as you followed him inside.

“Sure you can drive it. Maybe once you get off a junior license, we’ll talk,” he said.

“Graduation present?” you asked. 

“Deal,” he said. “Once.”

“You’re not Dean you know,” you said.

“Oh I know. Dean would never let you drive it.”

“Guys, guys. Let’s not waste all of the sunscreen, alright?” said De, stealing the bottle out of Arrows’s hands half and hour later. “Y/N, you get some?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” you said, keeping an eye on Zeppelin as he swam around the shallow end of the pool with some floaties on his arms. “Getting real good there, bud.”

“I’m better,” said Arrow as she jumped in, Danneel throwing up her hands. “Watch me, Y/N.”

“Floaties. You know the rules,” you said, grabbing them from the edge of the pool and sticking them on her arms.

“Ro. Remember how Uncle Jared got hurt around the pool a few weeks ago? You listen to the rules or you don’t get to swim anymore, understand?” said Jensen from the deep end where he was with JJ.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “Sorry.”

“S’okay, munchkin,” he said, face lighting up when he heard the front gate open in the distance. “I think we got some visitors.”

“Hey guys,” you heard your dad say after a minute, Gen and her three kids following after him. “Brought some friends over.”

“Oh, you’re too good looking for him,” said Danneel with a smile, your dad giving her his best bitch face. 

“I hope we’re not barging in. Jared kind of insisted,” she said.

“Saturday is swim day. The more the merrier,” said Jensen. You kept an eye on the kids as the adults introduced themselves, your dad nodding for you to come over once Jensen hopped back in the pool.

“Y/N, you’ve met Gen. These are her kids, Tom, Shep and Odette,” said your dad.

“Your dad slept over our house last night,” said Tom, glancing up at him.

“Oh he did?” you said with smirk.

“He’s seven. Shut it,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Shep’s a year younger than JJ and this adorable little girl is the twins age.”

“Can I go play?” she asked.

“Okay sweetie,” she said as she took off towards the pool, Danneel getting an arm around her.

“She can swim right?” she asked.

“Yeah. She’s a little fish,” said Gen, Danneel letting her swim on her own after a moment, the three small kids already laughing together.

“You’re kinda old,” said Shep to you.

“You’re kinda short,” you said. He frowned and Gen rolled her eyes.

“Shep, be nice,” she said. “Sorry.”

“S’okay. My dad had me young,” you said. “I bet I can do a bigger cannonball than you guys.”

“No way!” they said, taking off for the pool before you laughed.

“She’s good with kids,” said your dad.

“I can see,” she said. “Well when they drive you insane, just let me know and I’ll get ‘em to backoff.”

“I got this. It’s this one that’s the troublemaker,” you said, poking your dad with a smile. “I hope you were responsible last night.”

“Pool. Now,” he said as you giggled. You took off, Gen laughing a little. “She likes to bust my chops.”

“Must be fun when they’re teenagers,” she said. “When they grow up.”

“It gets funny. It’s a grown up...but still a baby,” he said.

“You think she likes me?” she asked quietly. You glanced over your shoulder quickly, your dad smiling.

“Yeah. I wouldn’t worry about that one.”

______

A/N: Read Part 3 here!

[spierfics]

Hdjdkd your fics make me so happy oh my gosbhdhe, but i had a silly fic idea. Basically, a spiderman/love, simon au? Doesn't matter which boy is spiderboy? Thank you again, for sharing your writing with us!! Your writing is so sweet!!

Over the Clouds - Spierfeld Fic

If Bram had known taking AP Chemistry would involve getting bitten by a radioactive spider; one which gave him super strength, insane reflexes, a sixth sense and the ability to shoot webs; Bram would have simply taken Physics.

But Bram had gotten used to the craziness by this point. It had been almost two years since the incident occurred, and more than a year since Spider-Man became a public figure.

The first few months were the toughest, especially since he had nobody to talk to. He had been afraid to speak to Garrett after he’d nearly rendered him unconscious with a pass on the field. The soccer ball had hit Garrett so badly that the school needed to call an ambulance.

Bram quit the team that day.

But Garrett wasn’t someone who quit on his friends, showing up at Bram’s home every day to make sure he was alright. Eventually, Bram told him the truth. It wasn’t like he could hide it forever, especially from someone who was as involved in his life as Garrett was.

“This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” Garrett said in complete awe when he’d first seen what Bram could do.

“Well, I’m still crap at everything,” Bram shrugged. “Not really a hero,”

“You’re not a hero,” Garrett replied. “You’re a fucking superhero,”

“Oh my god, did you read the latest article on Spidey?” Abby squealed, scrolling through her phone frantically.

Simon barely registered what she was saying, having been momentarily distracted. Bram Greenfeld had just entered the cafeteria.

Sure, Simon had been obsessed with the masked vigilante earlier in the year; but he’d given up on the idea of ever meeting him, let alone imagine a romantic scenario with the two of them together.

Simon wanted to focus on someone more real, and the way that adorable boy smiled at him sometimes made Simon forget that anyone else other than Bram existed. His crush on Bram had started a few months back when he and Bram were selected to help show new students around.

There was something about him, an aura, that he had a secret too. A part of himself that he couldn’t share with everyone, but he wanted to. It was something Simon couldn’t shake off, and since that day, Bram Greenfeld had been on his mind.

“Si! That woman he saved from the condo fire the other day, said she heard him up close and he sounded like her son. She said he sounded like a kid, not a man!” Abby nearly yelled, pulling Simon out of his thoughts.

“What’s your point?” Simon said, finally tearing his attention away from the table across from them.

“That he could be our age!” Abby rationalized. “He’s not necessarily a man, he could just be a regular kid like us,”

“What kind of kid would give up his everyday life to go around saving people?” Leah imposed, “You don’t think people around him would figure that out? Like his family? Or his friends?”

“Not if he was good at keeping secrets,” Abby replied back. “Come on, Nick. Back me up,”

“Hiding such a massive part of your identity from everyone you know,” Nick thought carefully. “Nah, that’s impossible,“

Simon tried his best not to roll his eyes.

It was way past midnight when Bram finally arrived home, way past the curfew he’d set for himself on school nights. It had been a quiet day, for the most part, there was one mugging and three cats in trees that were successfully taken care of.

Then there was the robbery, on a local grocery shop near an intersection. Bram had run into some trouble there, but Bram left that guy unconscious and tied up outside the store for the cops to find. So all in all, it ended pretty well.

Bram mentally checked his agenda, recalling that he’d managed to finish his Math homework during lunch, which he ate on a non-operational crane. His acrophobia was quite a battle in those early days of training, but he’d gotten control over his fear now. The sights he’d gotten to see were some of the most beautiful in his life.

Thinking of beautiful things, Bram’s mind casually drifted to one person; Simon Spier. Bram had only spoken to him a few times, through their common friend, but never on an individual basis. Bram wished he had the courage.

He scoffed out loud. Bram swung from building to building on a daily basis. He had run into burning apartments and physically fought men with guns. But nothing scared him more than having a conversation with his crush.

‘This is why there aren’t any teenage heroes,’ Bram thought to himself, flinching as he took off his suit.

Something was wrong.

It’s been a week since Bram had come to school, and although Simon had not-so-casually brought it up in a conversation with his friends, he hadn’t gotten any answers. He built up the courage, or stupidity, to go ask Garrett who always was by Bram’s side.

“Um, hey, Garrett?”

Garrett looked up from his phone, momentarily confused since they’d hardly ever spoken to each other, but then offered Simon a huge smile.

“Spier! How are you?”

Simon hesitated before sitting down opposite Garrett, he was certain that he wasn’t on a last-name basis with Garrett, who often called his team-mates by their last name. 

Regardless, he seemed like he was in a good mood, and Simon realized that Garrett probably didn’t care about why Simon was asking about Bram.

“I was just wondering…” Simon said in a small voice. “I haven’t seen Bram for a bit. Is he okay?”

Garrett eyed Simon suspiciously as if he were trying to analyze his intentions.

Simon cursed himself, knowing that asking would be a mistake, Garrett was going to find out and he’d tell Bram and then the entire school would…

“Bram pulled something on the pitch a few days ago, and it still hasn’t healed up,” Garrett finally offered. “But I’ll let him know you said ‘hi’,”

“Oh no! No, I was just worried because we’re partnered up in this Chemistry project together and I just hadn’t seen him…” Simon trailed off as he got up.

The thing was, both boys were lying to the other. And both of them knew it. Nick had told all of them that Bram had quit the team a while back. And Garrett knew Bram had vowed to never take another Chemistry class again in his life.

Garrett went to visit Bram that afternoon, sitting at his desk as Bram rested in bed. It was tough seeing his friend like this, knowing that he could do nothing to help him other than cheer him up.

A few days back, ‘Spider-Man’ had interrupted a grocery store robbery, and he must have been distracted because he came back home with a gunshot wound in his arm.

Apparently, he’d been feigning illness a little too well, and his mother let him take a few days off of school. Garrett was tasked with bringing Bram his assignments and a bunch of medical supplies.

“It’s looking better,” Garrett said, eyeing the wound.

“Scrapes and cuts heal up fast, but I guess this one was a little deeper,” Bram replied.

“That bullet nearly took your freaking arm off, and you didn’t even realize until you got home,”

“It was the adrenaline,” Bram explained.

“Aren’t your spider-senses supposed to defend you from that sort of stuff,”

“It did,” Bram defended himself. “That bullet was meant for my chest, I moved out of the way,”

“Fine,” Garrett surrendered. “Spier asked about you today,”

Bram immediately sat up in bed, staring at Garrett and urging him to elaborate.

“I don’t know! He was worried that you haven’t shown up all week, and then he wrote it off to some B.S excuse about being science partners or something,”

Bram couldn’t contain his smile, “I guess I’ll be back at school tomorrow,”

“Ok, Romeo. But remember, you can’t let distractions get the best of you,”

“I’ll try,”

He had a feeling this was going to be a good day, considering that Bram was finally back after his mysterious disappearance, and even offered him a smile as he sat down next to Garrett after lunch.

Their entire History class had a field trip together that day, and Simon was particularly excited since he and Bram were the only ones who knew each other in that class.

The bus ride wasn’t filled with too much entertainment, but somehow he’d found the courage to offer his seat to Bram, who kindly accepted. Bram was so easy to talk to, once they got past the initial shyness, the conversation flowed easily.

By the time they got to the museum, Simon felt like they were inseparable.

“Hey Bram, I think we’re going to head to the café in about twenty minutes…” Simon began but could see that Bram’s expression had suddenly changed.

“Did you feel that?” Bram asked looking around at nothing in particular.

“No,” Simon replied.

“Si, you need to get out of this building. Take as many people as you can with you, okay!” Bram said in a frantic tone.

Simon was momentarily frozen, not knowing whether he should focus on the random change in Bram’s demeanour, the weight of his words or the nickname that Bram had so effortlessly used.

Simon could barely catch his breath, racing out of the building and holding on to Bram’s hand. He didn’t know how Bram was running that fast, but before he knew it they were out of the building.

“It looks like Mr. Sykes got the class out,” Bram commented, counting the number of their classmates.

“What was that,” Simon asked, his voice shaking.

“I don’t know,” Bram answered, keeping his gaze on the upper floors of the museum. “You should join everyone,”

“What about you?” Simon asked, wondering why Bram seemed so preoccupied at a time like this.

“I’ll join you in a second. I’m going to look for some staff members and talk to them,”

“Why? Did you see something,”

“Yeah, I think I did,”

Bram found an abandoned corner of the building, which housed industrial-sized garbage containers. A perfect cover, and within moments Bram was suited up.

He walked back a few steps before slinging a web to the top of the building. He was sure there would be an entrance up there.

Surely enough, there was and as Bram carefully stepped into the building, he could hear voices. There were four men, definitely armed and Bram planned the entire fight out.

Within seconds, he climbed up on the ceiling, taking advantage of the one who was a lookout and knocking him out cold.

One seemed to be focused on a large piece of artillery, something that could have caused the explosion, while the other two seemed to be looking at blueprints. Bram decided to go after the two, knocking their heads together in one go.

The last one turned around in a panicked state and fired his handgun at Bram. He managed to dodge them without much effort and managed to swing the gun right out of his hands. Another web pulled the final criminal towards him, and Bram used the leverage to kick him down into unconsciousness.

Tying up the criminals was always the most difficult part, as Bram always worried one would wake up and move around, but the four of them were wrapped around a pillar within ten minutes.

Bram shook his head, why couldn’t he have one day off.

Next, Bram checked the main floors for anyone who wasn’t in the building and then exited the museum.  He took a moment to address everyone in the crowd, ensuring them that they were all safe, and he’d taken care of those who were involved in the crime.

“Please let the authorities know that they’ll find the four men in the northwest section of the enclave in the upper level. They’ve been disarmed and the artillery is military-grade. If anyone’s in serious need of medical attention, I can get them to a hospital right now,”

“We’re missing people!” Mr. Sykes called out to him, and Bram panicked before remembering he was a student too.

“How many people?” Bram asked, trying to deepen his voice.

“Two of my students. Bram Greenfeld and Simon Spier,”

“Simon?”

“Yes, and Abraham Greenfeld. According to some of my kids, Simon went to look for his friend,”

“And you let him?!” Bram yelled but caught himself in time before he went too far. “Sorry, I’ll go look for the two of them, just please keep everyone else safe,”

Mr. Sykes nodded, slightly backing away in fear.

Simon knew that sneaking into the building wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but he couldn’t imagine leaving Bram in that type of danger. Currently, he was stuck in an elevator, which had stopped working halfway through.

The lights were flickering on and off, and Simon was sure he’d heard gunshots. It was only a matter of time before someone found him, and it could mean either rescue or something worse.

It felt like forever before he heard another sound, and Simon wasn’t sure if he was imagining those sounds. Someone was calling his name, and he was ninety percent sure any criminals wouldn’t be on a first-name basis with him.

“Simon! Are you here?”

For some reason, Simon thought he recognized that voice, so he shouted back: “Bram! I’m in here!”

The elevator doors began creaking, and Simon knew there was no earthly way Bram could open those with his bare hands. And he was correct because it wasn’t Bram.

“Spider-Man?”

“Hey, are you alright?”

Simon felt like that the masked vigilante sounded eerily similar to Bram, but blamed it on the frantic situation he was in.

“Y-Yeah. I’m okay,” Simon stuttered. “Are you alright?”

Spider-Man seemed to be confused, and paused before saying, “Nobody’s ever asked me that before,”

Simon couldn’t see it, but he was sure that the guy beneath the mask was smiling at him.

“I’m gonna step into the elevator okay? And then I’m going to help you out. This elevator is stuck between two floors, so there’s a bit of a drop, but you’re gonna be safe, understand?”

“Got it,”

“Okay. I’m stepping in now,”

Spider-Man took a step inside and Simon could feel the structure shake beneath him; the hero beside him could clearly feel it too. Spider-Man carefully opened the hatch above them and seemed to be measuring the space mentally.

Then he offered his hand to Simon, who took it slowly.

“Just hold on as tight as you can, okay. And don’t look down,”

Simon wrapped one arm around his shoulder and the other around his neck, holding on as tight as possible. In a flash, Spidey shot a web up and Simon could feel himself being yanked upwards. He closed his eyes shut, but the sound of the crash was unmistakable. That could have been him.

When he felt his feet on solid ground, Simon finally opened up his eyes. He was clearly high up, higher than he’d ever been before. Looking down at the crowd below, he realized he was on the roof of the building.

“You’re okay,” Spider-Man offered him some comfort.

“Did you find Bram?”

The masked hero waited a moment before responding. “Bram?”

“He’s my…” Simon paused. “He’s my friend, the one I went back in looking for,”

“I wouldn’t advise doing that in the future,” the disguised hero replied sternly. “There was nobody else in the building, but I’ll keep an eye out for him,”

“Okay. Thanks for saving me and everything,” Simon said to him casually, “let me know if there’s any way I can pay you back.”

Simon was certain he had just made Spider-Man laugh, and he could definitely put that down on his bucket list.

After dropping off Simon with the crowd, Bram changed back into his regular clothes within a matter of minutes and raced back around the building.

“Bram!” Simon said, as soon as he saw him, running up and wrapping his arms around him in a hug. “Are you hurt?”

“No. I’m fine. I went looking for you,”

“So did I,” Simon replied. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Bram nodded. “Are you?”

“Yeah, got into a little bit of trouble, but I got out of it just fine. Met Spider-Man,” Simon shrugged, sporting a shy smile.

“Oh?” Bram returned his smile.

“He’s not all that he’s hyped up to be,” Simon replied jokingly.

Arriving home, his mother greeted with a tight hug, refusing to let him go for a number of minutes. 

‘If only she knew’ Bram thought to himself. 

As the day turned into night, Bram went over the day’s events in his mind. He had an urge to swing on by to Simon’s house, in full costume, knowing that it was probably the dumbest thing he could ever do. Maybe this was why crushes and heroism didn’t mix well together, but Bram had to remember he was a teenager, and priorities were always muddled.

He paced around back and forth in his room, putting the mask on and off wondering who would impress Simon more. He knew the obvious answer was Spidey, but Bram had a feeling that he and Simon had gotten off considerably well throughout the day. Simon had actually gone looking for him, and that had to mean something.

He almost missed the knock on his door, and barely had time to shove the mask under his bed.

“Honey?” Bram’s mom opened the door an inch. “There’s someone here to see you?”

“Garrett?”

“Nope,” Bram’s mom replied mysteriously.

Bram walked down the stairs and was pleasantly surprised to see Simon in his foyer.

“Si?” Bram said, walking up to him, face riddled with confusion. 

“Hey, Bram. I-I wanted to see how you were doing, after today,” Simon shuffled in place.

“We can step outside,” Bram offered, wondering if Simon wanted to talk alone.

They sat together on their front porch, and Simon tried to keep his breathing under control. He had no idea how he’d built up the courage to do this, but he knew he had to.

If his experience today had taught him anything, it was that nothing was promised, not even the next moment. Today could have ended very differently for him, for Bram, and for everyone there. And he knew that someone wouldn’t always be there to save them.

He needed to let Bram know the truth.

“I like you,” Simon blurted out as soon as they sat down.

“What?”

“I know that sounds fucking weird to hear, and I don’t even know if you like guys, or let alone like me…but I could have died today and I realized that I couldn’t let a day go by without letting you know that…”

“Si?” Bram interrupted.

“Yeah?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I like you too. A lot,” Bram replied.

“Oh?”

“And if it’s okay with you, I’d really like to kiss you,”

“That’s more than okay,”

Bram carefully leaned in to close the distance, closing his eyes in time. He felt the gentlest movement against his mouth and Bram felt his heart skip a beat. Simon was kissing him back.

Bram wanted to stay in this moment for as long as he could, but he knew that this one act was going to change everything. This was going to be another person who he’d either be keeping a secret from, or to whom he’d be confessing a heavy truth. This was someone who’s safety could be used against him. Someone with whom he would fall in love.

But Bram pushed away those intrusive thoughts, giving his all to the kiss. At that moment, he decided, nothing else was going to matter. No bad guys, no overbearing stress, not his secret identity; nobody existed outside of the bubble of himself and the boy in his arms.

There would come a time where he’d have to trust Simon with everything, and Bram had an inkling it would turn out fine. After all, Simon owed him one.

[arielofautumn]

Today, I saw my rapist

Warning: Long, graphic, and potentially triggering

I've been back and forth all afternoon about whether or not I should share this. In the end, I decided that I would type it up and see how I feel about hitting the 'Post' button once I'd gotten it all out. Maybe just writing this down would be cathartic, but seeing as I'm currently revising this opening, I think sharing may be a good thing, if not for me, then maybe for someone else.

Almost exactly 13 years ago I was 16, almost 17, and going out for a night with my cousin, our last hoorah before we started our junior year of high school. I ended up meeting who I thought was the most beautiful man I'd ever seen at the time. 6'2, blonde hair, blue eyes, cocky, in shape, he had just turned 20 and he was (physically) everything a silly teenage girl wrote about when she listed the attributes of a man she wanted to end up with.

I had just gotten out of a two year relationship, and I was still a virgin, having been raised by semi-fanatical Christian parents and I'd done all the heavy petting and making out that was possible without intercourse. So, when I met this guy, we'll call him Sam, I was beyond curious about my first REAL experience with sex and had just enough confidence in my body and overall sex appeal that when he hit on me and asked for my number I eagerly obliged. It didn't help that 16 year old me thought he was a virility god made flesh. I was young, I was overcharged with hormones, and I was armed with the sage wisdom of countless stolen Harlequin romance novels. I thought I was ready. He felt like "The One."

A few nights after meeting him, we had sex for the first time. Well, it was MY first time, and OUR first time together, but it definitely wasn't his. After all, he was a former football player and he knew he was attractive and he could sweet talk a nun. I was far from his first. But my naive teenage brain vowed to be his last.

This first time should have been a huge red flag about the man I had chosen to lose my virginity to. This would turn out to be the first of many red flags that I would ultimately ignore, up until a few months before leaving him. He wasn't gentle. He tried to talk me out of making wear a condom ("You need to know how it feels without it! And it feels better for me!") and at one point took it off for awhile before I began to panic and made him put on another. It hurt. And not because of my hymen breaking, that had broken several years prior when my graceful ass was trying to balance on a board of wood and slipped, my crotch breaking my fall and my hymen along with it. He made no effort to make this easy and pleasant for me. And he commented on my lack of a cherry to pop, but I'll get to that bit later. An hour after we finished, he insisted we go again, and not wanting to disappoint, I agreed. The second time hurt even worse as I was still sore, unused to this kind of pain, and he again didn't go easy on me.

Some of you may see where this is going. This story isn't one that portrays rape happening to a woman walking alone at night and getting attacked by a greasy pervert in a dark alley. My story is one that I think is way more common, and far less talked about.

Over the course of two and a half years I dated this guy. I graduated high school, skipped out on college because he didn't want me to go, and moved in with him. I saw each red flag but was too young and inexperienced to understand what they meant. Like that first night together, he insisted on sex every night, multiple times if possible. He didn't like foreplay, unless it was getting a blow job, and he convinced me that I should "take it" when he wanted to be as rough as he wanted. It was always implied that I wasn't good enough, wasn't woman enough, if I didn't have sex with him. When I hesitated at the suggestion of anal, he brought up ex-girlfriends who did it and shamed me into trying to measure up. I cried the first time we tried that, and he had to physically restrain me during the attempt. The pain is something that still makes experimentation in that area very difficult for me. On more than one occasion, when the thought of sex made me nauseous, we still did it anyway, despite me crying through it or asking him to go slower.

Sam was controlling, manipulative, popular, funny, and I thought I could shut out the horrible things about our relationship because he trained me to believe that this was normal. His friends and family loved him. I should, too. Women should want to please their men. Women should take what they have to give. It makes me sick to think about now, but fuck I had no real idea what was going on.

He constantly accused me of lying about my virginity because I didn't bleed that first time. He accused me of cheating on him if I didn't answer the phone when he called. He threw out my sexier clothes and bought me new ones that he liked, under the condition that I could only wear them when we were out together. I lost all contact with friends because he said the girls were sluts and would make me a slut, too and the guys would fuck me the first chance they got. I lost out on scholarships for creative writing, what I wanted to go to college for, when he convinced me not to pursue my education. My nerdy obsessions were stupid and I had to like what he liked and listen to what he listened to.

It took me TWO AND A HALF YEARS to finally get away. It took me even longer to realize that I was being raped. On some level I knew, but I never voiced it, not till much later, when the training had begun to wear off and I began to become my own person once more.

Today, I was grocery shopping with my husband and five year old daughter. Today, I looked up and saw Sam walking down the frozen section with his own daughter. As we walked past each other, I didn't make eye contact and pretended not to notice him. Only when my husband nudged me and sniggered that that guy had been staring at me did I tell him who it was. My husband knows this story. And today he got to put a face to a name and emotional scars that he sees in me from this man. Today, I saw Sam's daughter. A girl only a few years older than my own.

I found myself hoping that he came to realize what he'd done. Not just to me, but to the other girls he dated. I wasn't his only victim. I hope I was his last. For his daughter, if nothing else. I hope that one day, when I tell my little girl this story, she'll take what I learned the hard way and use it to protect herself from men like that. I don't want her to make my mistakes, I don't want her to confuse love with manipulation.

Today, I saw my rapist. I'm 29 now and married to a man that I drool over and that I love with all my heart and is the exact opposite of Sam. It got better for me. I got out. I found myself again. I hope that by sharing this, it may help someone in an abusive relationship. One they may not even realize they're in. One where they're still ignoring those flags.