#it wasn’t even a messy divorce either

[permanentreverie]

how do you tell chronically online people to go touch grass and get over drama that happened 8 years ago

[schemmentigfs]

Sweetening the Deal.

Summary: Feeling stuck and desperate for a change in life, you meet Melissa Schemmenti, a sophisticated and wealthy woman at a bar. As you talk, a beneficial arrangement is made —you become her sugar baby in exchange for financial support and a life of luxury.

Tags: @italianaidiota @lisaannwaltersbra

Part 2.

It was supposed to be easy. You’d been in these types of arrangements before — usually with someone older, someone with the means to provide. A little fun, some affection, an exchange of care and comfort for the right lifestyle. It was straightforward.

Nothing that serious, just someone to take care of you, spoil you with a luxurious life, and maybe provide some excitement every once in a while. And you’d gotten good at playing the role, keeping the personal stuff at arm’s length and only showing the parts that were needed to make it work. You had your own reasons for this, but when it came down to it, it was all about getting something you needed, and being charming enough to keep it flowing.

You were only twenty-four, yet the strain of trying to make ends meet had already worn on you. You lived in a rundown apartment with leaky pipes and cracked walls, a place that felt more like a shelter than a home. The thin walls meant you could hear every fight between your neighbors, every sound from the street below. It was cheap, sure, but every night you’d lie awake, listening to the hum of the old radiator, wondering how long you could keep going like this.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. You’d always imagined yourself living with a bit more security by now, maybe even enjoying the occasional luxury. Instead, your days blurred together in a monotony of bills, grocery budgets, and stretching the little you had to last. You’d settled into a job that, while stable, had slowly begun to drain you. The paychecks were barely enough to cover rent, groceries, and the never-ending list of repairs your landlord promised to fix but never did. Each month, it felt like you were just one unexpected expense away from drowning.

The job itself didn’t help. It was the kind that offered no thrill, no satisfaction — just a steady flow of hours clocked in and clocked out, all while your dreams of something more started to gather dust. You’d watch others, people who seemed to glide through life without a care, and wondered what it would feel like to have even a fraction of that ease.

So when someone with money crossed your path, offering more than just their captivating presence, it felt like a window opening, a brief glimpse into a different world. A world where you didn’t have to worry about leaky pipes or thin walls, where you could shed the weight of all those unfulfilled promises and simply live — at least for a little while.

It felt odd to pretend to be interested in someone just for the benefits. Unfortunately there was no out. Since you were a child, you’d known that life was rarely fair. Your mom had made sure of that. She was a single mother, a fiercely determined woman who raised you on her own after a messy divorce. She didn’t sugarcoat things, either; she’d tell you straight-up that the world could be a cruel place, especially for a woman trying to make it alone.

From her, you learned early that being good wasn’t always enough. She taught you resilience, to work hard and keep your expectations realistic, to push forward even when things felt impossible. And, maybe unintentionally, she taught you that sometimes, you had to rely on yourself more than anyone else because no one was going to hand you anything.

Even as a kid, you’d seen the way she struggled, how she’d sacrificed and held herself together. You watched her scrape together everything you had, keeping a brave face for your sake even when the weight of it all clearly pressed down on her. She made it through, but not without that look of fatigue that never seemed to leave her eyes.

So you understood, maybe better than most, that life wasn’t likely to hand you anything easy — and that the only way to get what you wanted was to reach for it. Maybe that’s why you found yourself here now, doing what you needed to do to get by, even if it meant letting someone else take care of you for once.

But then you met Melissa Schemmenti, and everything you thought you understood got turned upside down. And most importantly, your life changed in ways that you never imagined it would.

The first time you’d first spotted her, you weren’t even focused on choosing her as a target.

It was a rainy Friday night when you first saw the mysterious fiery redhead— sitting alone at the bar in a rich neighborhood in Philadelphia. She was sipping on a whiskey neat, her sharp features softened in the dark light, the flicker of the warm candles in the background making her sharp green eyes gleam in a way that almost took your breath away. It wasn’t her beauty that struck you, though. It was the way she seemed untouchable, confident in her own skin, like she didn’t need anyone, but still drew people in with an effortless ease.

You were just finishing a drink, waiting out the weather, when your gaze drifted back to her in the corner of the room.

She looked intense, yet somehow at ease. Her red hair, loose and wild, framed a striking face: strong cheekbones, sharp nose, and expressive green eyes that had a way of flicking around the room, as if daring anyone to get in her way. And yet, there was a warmth there too — a quiet vulnerability hidden in the curve of her mouth, softer than you’d imagined someone with such a sharp, no-nonsense face would carry.

“Interesting,” you whispered to yourself after realizing that no one, not a single man or woman, dared to approach her.

You’d seen people steal glances, some lingering a bit too long, but no one made a move. It was like there was some unspoken rule, as if the invisible space around her held a warning.

It made you even more curious.

For a while, you just watched, mesmerized by the way she sipped her whiskey with a kind of measured focus, her full red lips pressing into the glass like she was enjoying every second of it. The sleeves of her fitted blazer clung to toned arms, and her fingers were adorned with rings, each one sparkling softly in the light. Melissa’s neck was full of golden necklaces. That you assumed it had a Catholic meaning due to her small cross. Her frame was strong, curvy in all the best ways, carrying herself like someone who knew exactly who she was.

She looked like she didn’t need anything from anyone. But there was something in her gaze that suggested she’d be open to the right offer.

“Why isn’t anyone going up to her?” you scoffed, shaking your head and getting up from your seat. Unable to hide your intrigue. “I mean, she’s… well, she’s gorgeous.”

You’d barely taken a few steps toward the bar when Fran, the bartender leaned over, giving you a look that was somewhere between concerned and amused. She was a middle-aged woman with graying hair and a motherly vibe, the kind of person who seemed to know everyone’s business — especially when it came to her regulars.

“You sure about that one, sweet face?” she asked, nodding her head toward Melissa, who was still nursing her drink in the corner. And had ordered a lemon margarita.

You glanced back at the stranger, then back at Fran, frowning slightly in confusion. “What do you mean, Francis?”

The woman chuckled, wiping down the counter with a practiced hand. “Schemmenti doesn’t exactly do things halfway. People say she’s got a temper like a firecracker and a heart just as tough. You’d be surprised at how fast things get messy with her.” She paused, giving you a pointed look. “Not to mention, she doesn’t have the patience for games.”

Intrigued, you raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “And why’s that?”

Fran shrugged, but her gaze softened a little. “She’s been through some things, that’s all. Divorces and family issues. Got her walls up pretty high. Not just anyone makes it past them. If you’re thinking of walking up to her, just… be ready for whatever comes with it. She doesn’t like anyone wasting her time.”

You felt a spark of excitement mingle with the nerves, and your frown shifted into something closer to a smile. “Well,” you said slowly. “I guess I like a challenge.”

The middle aged woman shook her head, a knowing smirk on her face. “Suit yourself, sweetheart. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

But despite the warning, you couldn’t shake the pull you felt. If anything, it only made you more determined.

“Yeah. Whatever.”

With that, you picked up your drink and walked over to her, ignoring Fran’s amused shake of the head as she muttered. “Good luck, kid.”

Alright, here goes nothing.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you as you made your way toward her. The atmosphere in the bar seemed to quiet, the soft murmur of conversations fading into the background. Every step felt deliberate, calculated — but your heart was racing nonetheless.

Sliding into the seat next to her, you gave her a bold smile, one you hoped was as confident as she looked. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Melissa didn’t even glance your way. She lifted her glass, taking a slow sip, her gaze still focused across the bar, as if you hadn’t spoken at all. She looked composed and relaxed, her red waves falling around her shoulders, but there was an edge to her silence that made it clear she wasn’t the type to entertain small talk with strangers.

Still, you weren’t one to back down easily. You leaned in just a touch, close enough to catch a faint hint of her perfume. Something dark and warm, with notes of amber.

“So… is there a reason you’re quiet and alone, or do you just enjoy intimidating everyone who looks your way?”

At that, she finally turned to look at you, her gaze sharp and assessing. Those green eyes bore into you, sizing you up without an ounce of pretense. Her expression was unreadable, but there was a spark of curiosity there — maybe even a hint of amusement, though she hid it well.

“You know, it would be inelegant for a pretty lady like you to refuse a drink offer like that.”

That earned you the slightest shift, a flicker of her eyes cutting in your direction. But just as quickly, she looked away once more, taking another deliberate sip from her glass, pointedly ignoring you.

Alright, she was tough. But you’d expected that.

Clearing up your throat, you tried again. “Can I buy you a drink?”

For a moment, Melissa barely looked at you again, her attention fixed on her drink, her elegant fingers tracing the rim of her glass. Then, slowly, she turned those sharp eyes your way, raising a single eyebrow in skepticism. “You think I can’t buy my own drink, sweetheart?”

Caught a little off guard, you chuckled, brushing off her cold response. “Oh, I’m sure you could buy out the whole bar if you wanted. Just thought you might enjoy a little company."

The corner of her mouth quivered in a faint, almost amused smile, though her expression remained guarded. “Is that so? Are you always this forward with strangers, or am I that special?”

You met her gaze, refusing to back down, though you felt the intensity of her stare like a challenge. “I could ask you the same thing. I doubt I’m the first person who’s tried their luck tonight.”

That actually made her laugh — a low, genuine sound that surprised you with its warmth. She finally looked at you fully, leaning back just a bit, her eyes still sharp but now a little more intrigued. “Plenty try. Few get this far,” she said, taking a sip of her drink, studying you over the rim of her glass.

“Guess I’m lucky then,” you replied, matching her gaze. “Or maybe you’re just curious.”

She looked you up and down, a glint of something unreadable in her eyes. “What’s your name, doll?”

“Y/N.“ You introduced yourself, feeling the thrill of her attention settling fully on you.

She offered a hand, her grip firm, fingers warm and soft against your skin. “Melissa,” she said simply, with a smirk that told you she already knew her name alone carried weight.

“Nice to meet you.”

“You too, hon,” she replied softly, almost too sweetly.

The air between you felt different now, charged, as though something had shifted. You couldn’t quite place it, but you knew one thing: she was far more than the icy exterior she wore.

“So,” you started firmly, eager to keep the conversation flowing. “What brings someone like you to a place like this?”

Melissa raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth curling into a knowing smile. “You really want to know?” she asked, her voice dropping slightly, the undertone suddenly sharper, almost dangerous.

You nodded, sensing you were getting somewhere.

“Maybe I just enjoy the quiet,” she said, her gaze sliding over to the rest of the bar, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her glass. “Or maybe I like the kind of people who think they can handle me. You know, the ones who think they can get past the walls.”

There it was. That wall. You hadn’t been wrong about it earlier.

You leaned a little closer, the space between you diminishing. “Well, I like a good challenge,” you said, tone lowering slightly as you met her eyes. “And I don’t back down easily.”

The older woman studied you for a long moment, her lips pressing together in contemplation. There was something unspoken in the way she looked at you, like she was trying to figure out if you were just another curiosity or something more.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the space between the two of you suddenly too much. It was as if you were both waiting for the other to make the next move.

Finally, she spoke again, but this time, her voice was quieter, more intimate. “Is that so? Well, I hope you’re not disappointed.”

Without another word, she stood, surprising you for a moment, and you couldn’t help but follow her gaze as she turned her attention to the bartender.

“I’m leaving for now,” she said, her tone dismissive but with a hint of warmth beneath it. “But if you want to keep up, sweetheart, you’ll have to be quicker than that.”

Before you could respond, Melissa leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek — quick, but there was something sensual about the way her lips lingered for just a second longer than you’d expected.

“Melissa? What are you doing?” you prompted nervously. Your body language gave away how much desperate you were.

Her breath brushed against your ear as she whispered. “You better be ready for more than you bargained for.”

And just like that, Melissa Schemmenti was gone, but not before she slid a sleek business card across the counter toward you. “Call me if you think you can be a good girl and handle it,” she said, her eyes meeting yours one last time, a smirk on her lips.

The card was heavy in your hand as you stared at it, wondering what the hell you had just gotten yourself into. But at the same time, you couldn’t deny the shivers racing through you.

Before you could process it all, the bartender's voice cut through the moment, the amusement clear in her tone. “Looks like someone’s in for the ride of their life.”

You didn’t even respond, your focus still entirely on the card in your hand. that redheaded woman had left you breathless, but there was no denying it — you were already hooked.

After Melissa left, you spent the rest of the night at the bar, her business card tucked safely in your pocket, your mind racing. Who was Melissa Schemmenti? That name. “Schemmenti,” lingered, something about it sparking a vague sense of familiarity. It didn’t take long for curiosity to win over. The moment you got home, you grabbed your phone and typed her name into the search bar.

Almost immediately, a series of results popped up — news articles, restaurant reviews, family business profiles. The Schemmentis were, without a doubt, a well-known name in the city. They were a prominent Italian family with a long history of running high-end, family-owned restaurants and food businesses. Each article seemed to mention the family's deeply rooted traditions, their reputation for intense loyalty, and an unyielding commitment to quality that set their establishments apart.

There were photos of various family members attending restaurant openings and charity events. Most of them shared that same unmistakable look: sharp features, intense eyes, a confidence that seemed to radiate through the screen. But none of them held the same aura she had. You kept scrolling, searching, until finally, a photo caught your eye — a candid shot of Melissa herself, standing beside what looked like an older family member at an event. She was dressed elegantly, her green eyes striking even in the low-quality photo. Her signature smirk was there, too, as if she knew more than anyone else around her.

Digging a little deeper, you found hints that the Schemmentis weren’t just known for their restaurants. Whispers and rumors hinted at connections beyond the culinary world. It was all speculation, of course, nothing concrete — but there was talk of ties to old-school family loyalty, the kind that ran a bit deeper than the surface.

You couldn’t help but wonder what that meant for Melissa. She had a presence that felt untouchable, like she existed in a world all her own, one you’d barely scratched the surface of. Still, that made her even more intriguing.

Scrolling through more photos, you spotted one of her in front of the family’s flagship restaurant, a chic Italian bistro that was famous across the city. It looked upscale, all dark wood and gold accents, the kind of place you’d need a reservation months in advance for. The family had a reputation for authenticity, keeping recipes as close to the homeland as possible — a fact that seemed to add to the almost mythical image they cultivated in the food scene.

“Crap,” you sighed softly. “She’s more powerful than I thought.”

You leaned back in your chair, your mind spinning with the informations. Melissa was far more than just the striking woman you’d met at the bar. She was a part of this powerful, well-established family, one that had its hands in nearly every major social event and high-profile gathering in Philadelphia. The more you thought about it, the more you realized just how far removed you were from her world. But that only made you want her more.

You found another link, this one detailing a series of more extravagant gala events the. Subtle shots of Melissa made their way into the article — always in the background, always looking stunning, but always with that same cool, untouchable demeanor. The more you saw, the more you wanted to know.

A part of you wondered if you were getting in way over your head. But the other part — the part that was curious, that wanted to know everything about her — pushed those thoughts aside.

You glanced back at the card, and something in the back of your mind clicked. The business card. It wasn’t just a way to contact her. It was a way into her world. It was a ticket, maybe, to something bigger than you’d ever imagined. If you were going to do this, to pursue whatever this was between you two, you’d have to play it smart. You’d have to prove you were more than just another curious young woman.

With a deep breath, you typed in the number on the card. Your thumb hovered over the send button for a moment, then pressed it. Your heart beat faster than usual. This could be the start of something dangerous, something intoxicating. Or it could fizzle out, like so many other fleeting moments.

But you didn’t think it would. Not with her.

You took a breath, steeling your nerves as you composed the message. It took you a few drafts to strike the right tone, something that wouldn’t come off too eager but still got the point across. Finally, you sent a simple, Hey, it’s me from the bar. Would love to see you again if you’re interested.

A few seconds passed. Then a minute. You began to wonder if you’d misread everything and were ready to chalk it up to a learning experience when your phone buzzed, and her name — “Melissa Schemmenti” — appeared on your screen.

Thought you would never reach. Meet me tomorrow. At seven. La Sirena. Ask for a table under ‘Schemmenti.’ Don’t be late, sweetheart.

Shit.

La Sirena was a well-known Italian restaurant. Upscale, expensive, and not the kind of place you could typically afford. Just seeing her name there made your stomach flutter, excitement mingling with nerves. You quickly typed back an “I’ll be there” and spent the rest of the evening thinking about what you’d wear, what you’d say, and how you’d keep your composure.

On Saturday evening, you arrived at La Sirena early. You wore the nicest outfit you could put together, something classic and understated, hoping it would hold up to the restaurant's sophisticated atmosphere. Walking into the lavish space, you felt a bit out of place, but you kept your head high as you approached the host and asked for the Schemmenti reservation.

“Right this way,” he said with a polite smile, leading you to a private table in a quiet corner of the restaurant. Melissa was already seated, her gaze locked on the menu. When she looked up at you, a slow smile spread across her lips, and you couldn’t help but notice how stunning she looked, her red hair cascading over her shoulders, accentuating the sharpness of her cheekbones and the piercing green of her eyes.

“You made it,” she said, almost surprised as she gestured for you to sit. “And on time, too. I like that.”

You settled into your seat, feeling her eyes on you as you tried to calm your racing heart. “Wouldn’t miss it for anything,” you replied, offering her a face that you hoped masked the mix of awe and nerves.

The redhead frowned, setting her menu down to focus fully on you. “So, tell me, what exactly are you looking for? A young woman doesn’t approach me in a bar without a reason.”

Her directness caught you by suprise, but you appreciated it. Taking a breath, you decided to be just as straightforward. “Honestly? I need some support. Financially,” you admitted, your face softening. “My job barely covers my bills, and… well, I could use a hand.”

Melissa’s expression didn’t change, though her eyes lingered on you for a moment, weighing your words. She leaned back, crossing her legs, her gaze assessing. “And in return, you’d be… what? At my beck and call? Or are you looking for something more traditional?” Her voice was low, almost teasing, but there was an edge of seriousness there.

You swallowed, feeling the intensity of her words. “I’m open to whatever you’re looking for. I want to be someone you enjoy spending time with, whatever that might look like.”

Her smile widened slightly, a glint of amusement flashing in her eyes. “I don’t do traditional. But I do like arrangements that benefit both parties.” She reached for her glass, taking a slow sip as she considered you. “Here’s what I want: someone who can hold a conversation, someone who knows when to keep things discreet. I don’t need drama, and I don’t need clinginess. Think you can handle that?”

You nodded, your own excitement growing at the proposition. “I can handle that. I’m not looking to complicate things — just to be here when you want me.”

She seemed pleased by your answer, nodding slightly. “Good. Then I think we understand each other.” She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with something you couldn’t quite place. “And let’s get one thing straight, pretty girl. If I want to spoil you, you’ll let me. No protesting. Understood?”

A small smile crept onto your lips, the warmth of her presence making you feel bolder. “Understood, ma’am.”

“That’s a good girl.”

Green eyes softened for a moment, her gaze dropping to your lips. And before you could process what was happening, she leaned across the table, her hand cupping your cheek as she pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth. Her lips were soft, her touch featherlight yet intoxicating.

When she pulled back, her voice dropped to a whisper, almost as if she were sharing a secret. “Then it’s a deal.”

Your pulse raced as she sat back, casually reaching into her black purse to pull out an envelope. She slid it across the table toward you, her fingers grazing yours as she did.

“Just a little something to get you started,” she murmured, with a wink that was both playful and possessive. “It has a sum of five thousand dollars inside. It should help you for now, every week I can send you more. If you keep your promise.”

You took the envelope, feeling the weight of it in your hands. The gesture was more than generous, but it was the way she looked at you — with that blend of intensity and control — that made you realize what you were truly getting into. And for the first time in a long time, you felt safe, secure, and undeniably captivated.

As the evening unfolded, you couldn't help but feel the weight of what was happening. There was a sense of excitement, of possibility — but also a sharp, nagging thought that reminded you to tread carefully.

Don’t confuse things.

You couldn’t afford to get attached.

That was the key. This was supposed to be a simple arrangement, something that filled the gaps where your paycheck fell short. You weren't looking for something complicated, something emotional. Not with her. Not with someone like Melissa, who had power, elegance, and control in everything she did. She could snap her fingers, and people would fall in line. She was the kind of woman who played the game and always won.

You knew how this worked — a sugar baby and a sugar mommy. It was transactional, not romantic. You could enjoy the new life, yes, but you couldn’t let yourself get caught up in the emotions. You couldn't fall for her. You couldn’t let yourself start imagining more than what this was.

As the conversation carried on, Melissa’s wicked smirk never faltered, her focus entirely on you as she made her offers and requests while learning more about you. But underneath it all, you kept reminding yourself: No fucking attachments. You couldn’t afford them.

But even as you made that mental note, as you stared at her with those smoldering green eyes and that effortless poise, you felt something shift inside. A part of you that couldn’t quite ignore the magnetic pull she had over you, the allure that was impossible to escape.

Still, you had to stay grounded. This was just a business arrangement. Nothing more, right?

[gimmebackmyskeeball]

Just friends? Fuck no.

author’s note: I love enemy!jj and I’m a hoe for an enemies you lover arc but I just want me a flirty best friend jj so bad so I had to write his headcanons (?). I don’t even know what this is actually. There’s hc and small little blurbs all together so it’s definitely a little longer than a blurb but not a one shot either. I’m confused but I hope ur not. Enjoy!

summary: just some hc(?) about best friend!jj !!

pairing: best friend!jj maybank x pogue!reader

First of all, you can’t convince me that this man isn’t clingy with his best friend. And honestly not just with you and Kie but with Jb and Pope too. So picture this, divorced parents, your dad lives in another country with his new wife and your mom lives with your sister whilst you stay in the château. Your best friend John B offered you a room after his father made it clear that he wasn’t going to be back soon if never. So now you’re practically living in the château, stopping by your own house to check on your mom and your sister every couple of days. That also means you’re practically living in the same house with the one and only Jj Maybank.

At that point you were familiar with the lines such as; “How can you wake up that early? What’s the deal with that?” or “Y/N open the door! I don’t care that you’re changing, I left my lighter in there!”. He would wake up in the spare room with his messy hair and in his John B’s shorts. No shirt, obviously. He has to show off those muscles. “Yeah, you know, this is what happens when you’re god’s favorite.” He act’s like this is totally from his genes and just basically from carrying stuff to help his dad and shit but his dirty little secret is that he works out for it. Not a lot but enough to keep him in shape.

He’d walk around the château looking for some kind of food, any kind. He’d see Jb standing in the hallway, fresh out of shower, hair wet, of course he wouldn’t miss the chance to make some kinda flirty comment. “Hey, Jb. Morning shower? Too bad, wish you had invited me.” John would scoff, rolling his eyes, “Stop saying shit like that, Jj.” But Jj being the Jj he is, of course he wouldn’t stop. “Cmon gimme a hug, babe.” “Get away from me.”

“Don’t be shy.” He’d playfully caress his shoulder, with a smile on his face. “I’m literally throwing up in my mouth.” John took a step back, replicating gagging noises. “Cmon, John B. Don’t hide the infamous John D from me.” The brunette boy would pick up a pillow from the couch, shoving it right in the middle of his face before speaking, “Dude, you creep me the fuck out.” In that moment you’d walk in door from the porch, you’d woke up early to enjoy to morning breeze because you knew you’d be burning and melting and suffering thanks to Jb who kept putting off getting his AC fixed. “There she is! Hey, peach.” he’d say smiling, walking over to you before grabbing your face and giving your cheek multiple wet sloppy kisses.

“Gross.” you’d mumble. You’re tripping if you think this boy wouldn’t call you some kinda cheesy lame nickname like ‘peach’ or ‘sugar’ or ‘cupcake’ that’s suddenly music to your ears when he says it with that crooked southern accent of his. “Okay, rude. You lookin’ mad cute today. Don’t wanna kiss?” you pushed his face away, not able to stop the smile growing on your face.

Since when did you pushed him? You made the blonde mad. He’d wrap his arms around your neck, placing his head on top of yours. He’d pull you towards him until your back was completely leaning against his chest. He was heavy, you had to give him that. He was hot too. Not that way. I mean, yes, that way, he was hot, everyone knew that, including him. But he was the type of guys whose body heat was always high. The heat from how he wraps his arms around you, hot. He’s hot. In every way, shape or form. “Jay, get off! You’re hot!” He’d raise an eyebrow, pretending to be impressed by your sudden compliment that he knew was not a compliment, “Oh, I’m aware. But too bad I’m not gonna get off of ya.”

Definitely the kind of guy that would get offended if you told someone he wasn’t your boyfriend, “No partners over! This is my house and y’all are using it as a motel six!” John yelled to Kiara who had just been walked in by the owner of that very house. “That’s not fair! Y/N and Jj stay here all the time!” Kiara bit back. You crossed your arms over your chest, furrowing your brows, “What does that even mean?” Kiara sighed, “It means that boyfriend and girlfriends do stay here together and that I’m allowed to too!” you gave her a disgusted look, okay, to be completely honest, it was kinda cute she said that but you couldn’t act like you find it cute. Obviously. “We are not!” you whined. Jj shot you a look, “I mean, you don’t have to say it like that…” he frowned. The man actually frowned.

“Huh?” you were genuinely confused, was he upset? “You didn’t had to sound so aggressive about it…”

Sometimes he’d come up to you in the middle of the night, tv noises coming from the living room, meaning Jb wasn’t asleep either. “Peach?” you saw his figure on your doorstep,“Yeah, Jay?” you sat up on your bed. “I can’t sleep.” he walked over to you, sitting on your bed. “Why?”

He pouted, “Hot.” Oh how the tables have turned, “Thank you.” you spoke as he’d grin, scooting over more to your side. “I always appreciate a self aware girl.” “Okay, back off playboy.”

You scooted back, closer to the head of your bed now. “I’m just being honest.” he kept moving to get closer to you as much as he can. “Well, keep your honest ass over there.” you gently pushed his knee, trying with everything you have in you to keep your distance.

Sometimes you’d wonder if you were really only best friends. You knew how you felt about him but this is how he was with everybody, so he was ridiculously confusing. All the long weed sessions in the Twinkie, the way he’d beg to be the one rubbing your sunscreen, how he’d get visibly happy every time you’d pick him to sit next to on the couch. He is cheesy. And he isn’t embarrassed of it. If anything he knows he’s cheesy and I feel like he’s proud of it.

He’d yawn and gently stretch his arms, one of them slowly going over your shoulders and he’d end up caressing your arm. You know what he’s doing, he knows you know what he’s doing. Is he ever going to stop? No one knows. The way he’d rest his hands (definitely and totally not gripping them like you’re gonna jump off the bike and run away) on your thighs on red lights whenever you’re on his bike for him to drop you off for you to see your mom.

How he’d wrap his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder despite your whines about how you want him off of you. It’s just him, it’s just Jj Maybank and you don’t know if he’ll change or not. Not that you want him to, anyway.

[gravid-transluna]

Commission for @shhhsecretsideblog, hope you enjoy just as much as I enjoyed writing this!

Final signing of divorce papers. He’d cheated with his secretary on a business trip, she threw him out and filed for divorce. Not long after she realised her period was late and after doing a test she discovered she was pregnant. She tried to hide it from him for as long as she could, but he eventually found out. She made it clear that he would have nothing to do with this child.

The divorce negotiations were messy, lots of drawn out arguments and back and forth with solicitors. It had taken months. She wanted it concluded by now but he was dragging his heels. To what end she didn’t know. But eventually they reached a resolution and he agreed to sign the papers, which was happening this afternoon. The only problem was, she’d gone into labour during the night.

Just You and Me, and No One Else

words: 3142

content: clothing birth, inconvenient birth, birth denial, fpreg

Celia wasn’t one to drag things out, neither in her corporate life or personal life, and certainly not in her romantic life. The divorce lawyer’s name was Mr. Einhardt, and he didn’t tolerate very much nonsense either. He was a sort of neutral party, tasked with settling legal matters amicably between the couple. Between this small thing they had in common, and the circumstances leading to Celia’s divorce with her husband Dave, Mr. Eindhart’s sympathies seemed to lie quite decisively with Celia. Cheating on her with his secretary, a young woman just barely out of college! So cliche it nearly bored Celia to tears. The problems had begun long before the discovery, but Celia had rehashed that story enough times by now.

Negotiations had been messy; fights, late-night arguments in the kitchen, pleading, door-slamming. Dave was acting like a child throughout the whole thing. Which was doubly unfortunate, as Celia had received a second shock after the cheating, staring at a test and two pink lines in the bathroom. She was pregnant. Nine months later, she was wedged in the office seat as Mr. Eindhart recounted estate laws with Dave.

Please, she had been praying for the last hour; please, just let it be over. Incessant questions from Dave. More often than not, about the baby. No, her baby. Celia would be damned if she let that cheating, childish scum get within a mile of her child.

Mr. Eindhart was speaking as patiently as possible, but at this point it had all become a soft drone for Celia. The last issue: she had gone into labor during the night. Regular contractions, tightening her midsection and flaring sharp in her lower back. Standing before the mirror in the light of the morning, she’d been able to see clearly just how much her bump had dropped, hanging low between her hips, stretched completely taut, a reddened torpedo, with not another inch of room for the baby. It had been enough of a chore to get dressed and ready and lug herself into Mr. Eindhart’s office every week. Laboring, it was a superhuman feat.

Her hips burned, jammed into the seat. They had widened over the course of her pregnancy, and now she barely fit into any chair available. This, combined with the massive belly sprawling in her lap whenever she sat down, made for even more discomfort.

“Ms. Greene?” Her maiden name. She saw Dave flinch slightly when Mr. Eindhart used it. “Are you alright? Pardon, but you look quite uncomfortable. Do you need some water?”

“No,” she sighed, brushing his concern away. “No, thank you. When you’re this pregnant, doing anything is uncomfortable.”

Dave was frowning at her. “You sure, hun?”

Celia scowled. She knew the feigned concern had only been prompted by Mr. Eindhart’s comment; nothing more than an excuse to use the word hun. “If you could cut it with the pet names, that would be nice.”

He rolled his eyes, tried to catch Mr. Eindhart’s eye: Women, right? A comment she’d heard frequently during her marriage, even more so with her so-called ‘pregnancy hormones,’ the ‘mood swings’ that were preventing her from thinking straight.

Today, they weren’t entirely unfounded. All she could think about was her belly, the sheet of muscle over her womb, rippling and contracting as she tried to cut Dave off from some long-winded procession of his victimhood. The baby inside, the head positioned right into her cervix, pressing with increasing urgency. She had to ignore her body for the time being. She had to remain calm and collected and—

“Listen,” Celia interrupted, leaning over her tight swell. “Could we please hurry things along?” —glaring at Dave— “We’ve been through these questions enough times, wouldn’t you say?”

“I just want to make sure we have all the information,” he protested, the slimeball. “To make the right choice.”

Celia was about to retort when she felt the familiar banding around her stomach, and clenched in on herself, riding out the waves of pain and pressure once again. She hoped that her gritted teeth and wrinkled brow could be attributed to her impatience.

Her baby squirmed, cramped in her full, brimming belly. She shifted again. Things were really ramping up. As the contraction receded, she thumbed through the pages of legal documents until she reached the last one, the blank line where their joint signatures would go, and stifled a huff of frustration. There were still at least forty pages?! This pressure was a bad sign, she knew. Soon, she’d barely be able to sit, the head felt dangerously low.

The minutes ticked by. Contraction after contraction. Her belly, hot like a furnace, wracked and misshapen with their clenching force.

“Jesus,” Celia muttered unconsciously under her breath. “The pressure….” Then she looked up to see Mr. Eindhart and Dave staring at her.

“Excuse me, my dear?” Mr. Eindhart said, head tilted politely.

Celia cleared her throat, straightened her back. “The pressure he’s been putting me through, lately. It’s, er, getting to be unbearable.”

Dave was shaking his head solemnly. “You can’t even imagine my feelings. You just can’t see the other side.”

“Oh, that’s rich!” Celia covered up her consternation with a sarcastic laugh.

Another fifteen minutes. Contractions about five minutes apart. Celia realized that she had to use the bathroom, and had to use it now. The pressure was beginning to force her legs apart, despite her efforts to keep them tightly pinched together. The weight, god, the heaviness. She felt fuller than ever, an all-encompassing fullness. It stood to reason, she thought, her bladder would be feeling the strain.

“Excuse me,” she said. “I need to use the restroom.” She painstakingly stood, unable to conceal a grunt at the weight of gravity on her sagged, bowed belly. Hoping they didn’t notice the slip of skin under her blouse that certainly hadn’t been there this morning, Celia waddled from the office and found the lady’s room.

On the toilet she suffered a contraction that had her hunched over her stomach, toes curling in her pantyhoes tights. Suddenly, eyes wide, mouth open, she felt a spike in the rising pressure. Then— a release. Liquid gushed from her crotch. Celia moaned loudly at the relief. Then she clamped her mouth shut. She wouldn’t have put it past Dave to wait for her outside the bathroom.

Panting, she rose shakily from the toilet and wiped her inner thighs and crotch. She knew her waters had broken, signaling the rapid advance of her labor.

“Please, little one,” Celia murmured. “Just a little longer. Just until it’s only you and me, no one else.”

Dave was looking at her suspiciously when she returned. Even with her effortful concealment, he’d spent enough time around her to know her more subtle forms of expression. She cleared her throat and smiled.

“Where were we?”

Mr. Eindhart smiled a bit absently as Celia dabbed at the sweat beading on her forehead. He shuffled his papers and continued. Soon another contraction was taking hold of Celia, and she stiffened, bracing herself. Still, she wasn’t quite prepared for the intensity, coming on even more severe without her bag of waters to cushion the skull. Her swollen mound flexed visibly beneath the desk. She set her jaw, her knuckles going pale as she gripped her seat. This time the pain was accompanied by the undeniable urge to push. She nearly gasped aloud. Fuck, she wanted to push. It was like nothing else she’d felt before, the deep, overwhelming desire to bear down as hard as she could against the pressure. She held her breath, counted, blinking quickly as she tried to distract herself from the urge. It only grew stronger, pounding through her body, washing over her like a compulsion.

Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t control her body entirely, and she could feel herself giving small pushes, each one shoving her baby further down through her birth canal. With some mercy the contraction began to ebb, and she floated back into the conversation at hand.

“....and, what if the kid had to list another parent as an emergency contact? That role would go to me, right?”

Celia tried to intercede as smoothly as she could, ignoring the tremble in her voice, the vicious wringing of her womb. “They’re going to have a godmother, and she’ll be listed as a secondary guardian.”

“That’s fine,” Mr. Eindhart said. “Spell her name for me, just in case?”

“Is it Shannon?” Dave asked. “It’s Shannon, isn’t it? I never liked her. A bitch, that’s what she was.”

“Mr. Gardner, I don’t tolerate that kind of language in my office. Another remark and you can go ahead and find a different representative.”

Celia flashed the elderly divorce lawyer a grateful smile before turning her attention back to the impatient baby now beginning to stretch her birth canal wide. She was giving birth at this desk and nobody knew except for her. She could do this.

A hard, clamping pain. She exhaled, suddenly breathless, though it seemed to her company that she was just huffing in annoyance at Dave’s theatrics. When the urge coursed through her, it was nearly impossible to deny.

Don’t push, she told herself. Belly gripping her midsection like a tight closed fist. Don’t push. Internal muscles squeezing around the baby. Don’t—

The need to push was dizzying. She couldn’t help it. Before she knew it, she was bearing down at the desk, thighs spread as far apart as they could manage in her seat. A flush spread to her cheeks. She pushed, and pushed, feeling the baby move downward toward her exit. She couldn’t stop, was barely even aware of her surroundings anymore. All that mattered was the baby coming out of her, the need to get it out, bear down on it with the single-mindedness of a birthing mother.

Her silent straining went unnoticed until she ended her push with a loud grunt. Suddenly there were two heads turned towards her.

“My dear, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Celia?” Dave furrowed his brow. “What kind of sound was that? Didn’t you just use the bathroom, like, thirty minutes ago.”

Exhausted, losing hope that she’d be able to hold this baby in until after the signing, Celia snapped at him. “They’ve been kicking up a damn storm this entire morning, and whose fault is that in the first place? You insist on dragging this out for as long as possible, with me ready to fucking pop” —no comment from Eindhart; he knew better than to lecture a heavily pregnant woman about her language— “so, please, can we just get this over with.”

The head was so big in her canal. The pressure was so bad. She was full to the brim, utterly stretched and gravid with the baby. She couldn’t think about anything else except the need to get it out.

“Yes, well—” blinking, Mr. Eindhart scrambled with the pages. “I suppose we can just skip over a couple of pages…. let’s see here, joint signature, page 87, please.”

“Hey!” Dave protested. “Now, wait a minute.”

Celia was picking up one of Mr. Eindhart’s elegant fountain pens…. Another contraction was coming on, she could feel it broiling in her belly…. every muscle tensing up at once, working with the singular effort to expel her baby…. raising her trembling hand to the page….

To Dave and their lawyer, it may have looked like she had gone stock-still. Really though, she was pushing. Her knuckles shone pale around the pen. She was biting her lip so hard she thought she might draw blood. The baby was moving between her legs, she could feel it. She could have sobbed. The massive head was sliding through her hips, down, down, down towards her exit. She was pushing it out.

Dave took her sudden pause as hesitation. “Oh, honey,” he said. “Look at you! Overcome with emotion, I knew it was just a charade. It’s okay. We don’t have to go through with this.”

The fullness was very low now. A new sensation. The baby was in her vagina! Her labia had begun to bulge grotesquely; the head, of course, was huge. With a laborious effort, Celia scrawled a hasty, spidery signature onto the page. The final step. Done.

She slumped in her chair, push releasing, and her belly sank as her womb muscles relaxed. Her crotch throbbed. The baby’s head was right there, sitting heavily at her entrance, and it felt as if she was perched atop a bowling ball, hips nearly splitting open with the pressure.

Dave looked at the signature with despair. Mr. Eindhart cleared his throat, eyeing him like he suspected Dave might just grab the papers and bolt with them. Instead, he reached for a pen and, even more slowly than Celia had in the throes of giving birth, signed his big, sloppy signature.

“All right,” Mr. Eindhart said, tucking the papers into a folder. “That should be the last of the proceedings!”

Before Celia could react, Dave had stormed from the room. The door swung violently on its hinges.

She knew that she should leave as soon as possible, but getting up from her seat was a monumental task. Still, she struggled valiantly to her feet, containing a scream behind sealed lips as gravity thrust the head further into her nether regions, a wet tent forming in her underwear. She thanked the heavens that she had worn a skirt today. The body, it seemed, was slipping between her hips now, forcing the head down even more. Her gait was less a waddle at this point and more a bowlegged half-squat. She bore the pain and pressure and looked Mr. Eindhart in the eye, smiling as she shook his hand.

“Thank, mm, you. For everything.”

“Please, dear. Get home, get some rest.”

She nodded, unable to speak anymore. The head, god. She was so close to crowning. It was about to come out, she could feel it. She shuffled indelicately from Mr. Eindhart’s office. ‘Getting home’ was not a feasible goal. Celia didn’t even know if she could make it to the lady’s room in time, but she had to try. She couldn’t possibly give birth in these dirty carpeted corridors! One hand following the wall, knees barely supporting herself. She was trailing birthing fluid, leaking through her panties.

Whenever a contraction struck (and they were coming on without pause or respite now) she was forced to stop and squat, grunting the baby further into her nether regions. With every push her lips bulged more and more into the fabric of her underwear, burning with the obscene stretch. Slowly, the head parted them open, and she tried to pant through a contraction, drawing from some intuition that she needed to go slow and let herself stretch, her vagina straining to accommodate the huge head. Instead she loosed a guttural groan, bearing down again until her lips had unfurled into a tight oval. She was limping now, one hand cupped between her thighs as she walked.

As she rounded the hall, the restroom came into view. Almost there, Celia told herself. Just a couple more steps. Dread poured over her as a contraction began to brew in her belly. Oh no— Celia braced herself, steadying her hands against the wall in preparation.

Just then, she heard a shout. “Celia!” Dave had been waiting at the end of the hall, and now he jogged to catch up to her. “Shit, Dave!” Celia hissed as her birth canal wrung her from the inside out. “Fu-u-uck, what could you possibly—urgh! want?!”

Dave caught her arm, too involved in his own self-pity to notice Celia’s wide half-squat, the pinching of her face, the dribbles of liquid from between her spread thighs.

“Just hear me out, okay?” He was upset. His bottom lip quivered like a petulant child’s. He seemed, absurdly, betrayed. “You love me. I know you love me, and that baby is mine. I’m its father, I have a right to meet it.”

Celia stared at him, flabbergasted, the baby crowning into her panties momentarily forgotten. Suddenly she squatted down and bellowed loudly. “OOOOOHHHH!!”

Dave backed away in fear.

“Listennn-mmmfgh!” Celia groaned as she bore down furiously. “Grrrruh! Ugh, ah! I have had it up to here with you. Fuuuuck, I’m only gonna say this one time.” Despite her deep squat, she suddenly seemed to tower over him, red-faced with fury and the exertion of birth.

“Get out of our lives.”

Dave glanced at her in consternation, then scurried down the hall and hopefully out of her life for good.

Celia’s legs finally gave out and she dropped to her knees, unable to withstand the searing pain and pressure spreading her wide open and filling her so completely, it was as if there was no room for anything else anymore; no Dave, no legal documents or income discussions, not even herself or her identity as anything but a mother. Everything was focused on the baby coming out of her, crowning her most sensitive, private region. She gripped her thighs and bore down. Then she pushed her hips back, opening them, and rested her heavy body on her hands and knees. An animalistic urgency coursed through her. This primal position felt good, felt right. This was what she needed to be doing. Pushing, without any other concerns.

Her skirt rode up, exposing the apex of her thighs, her sodden bulging underwear, soaked fabric revealing what was happening behind it. The head slipped further out. Her lips formed a burning circle. Celia’s groans tightened and rose in pitch and she strained, the head unmoving as a boulder for a nerve-wracking second. A full-body shudder. Celia’s eyes rolled back in her head as she pressed her chest to the floor and sloped her rear end into the air, pushing with all she had.

The head burst free, and fluids spattered the hallway wall behind her, soaking the carpet. Celia gasped and panted, but the ordeal wasn’t over yet.

“O-okay, okay, baby.” The shoulders were rotating, she could feel the body turning inside her. The entire head hung from her opening and sagged her panties. “Th-this is iiiittttt-ooooooh!” With one last giant push, the body slid out and a river of fluids gushed freely behind.

Celia sat up on her haunches, scrambling between her tights and underwear with the instinctual desperation of a mother, searching frantically, needing to hold her baby, needing the touch-contact. She brought it from under her skirt to her chest, and heard a gurgling cry. A beautiful girl! Nothing like her father, everything like her mother. Tears streamed from Celia’s eyes and dripped down her nose and cheeks.

“Oh, look at you! Look at you!” She held her to her warm heart. “It’s okay. It’s just us. Just you and me, and no one else.”

[fishfooddude]

Two Months

Carmy really fucked up, but maybe he can prove his worthiness and get his girls back.

MDNI 18+

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Part 3

Carmy sighed when his call went to voicemail after a few rings. He pushed a hand through his hair and listened to your voicemail message, “Hey baby- I just wanted to know if I could see Mia. I know you don’t want to see me, but I need to see her… if you could just bring her by the restaurant, that would be fine. I just want to hold my daughter. Uh- yeah. I’m sorry, I’m a fuckin’ dumbass. Please just give me five minutes to explain everything. Let me know. I love you.” he hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair. He stared up at the ceiling as he thought about you and Mia. It had been a couple of weeks since he’d seen either of you, and he just needed his girls again. 

“Asshole. Sign here.” Natalie barked at Carmy as she entered the office with an ordering forum. She shoved the papers at him before crossing her arms over her chest. “Natalie, I get it okay. I fucked up. My wife kicked me out of our house, I’m living in a shitty hotel, and I haven’t seen my daughter in weeks. I’m not in the fucking mood to deal with your bitching.” Carmy replied, glaring at his sister. She rolled her eyes, “You turned out so much like Dad.” she laughed, yanking the documents back. Carmy huffed, “Fuck you.”

“Right back at you, Carmen,” Natalie said, slamming the door behind her as she exited the office. “You okay, Sugar?” Richie questioned softly, noticing the anger in her eyes. She rolled her eyes and pushed past him without saying anything; being in the same vicinity as Carmy was irritating. Whenever she saw his face, she thought of Mia and how Carmy had repeated their father's actions. Natalie sighed when she got into her car, “I’m sorry you had to hear that, baby… let’s go get your brother.”

~

“Hey, Carm- everything okay with Y/N?” Richie awkwardly asked as Carmy was doing prep for that night's dinner service. “What do you think fuckhead?” Carmy snarkily responded; Richie rolled his eyes and decided to match his energy. “Well, she texted Tiff asking for her DIVORCE LAWYER’S info.” he leaned against the counter with a shit-eating grin. Carmy slammed his knife down and pushed past Richie to go into the alley. “That was fucked up, kid.” Tina scolded as she exited the walk-in. Richie shrugged, “I was going to be subtle, but he’s being a little bitch.” 

Carmy closed his eyes, fighting back tears when Syd showed up for prep. “Hey Carmen, are you okay?” she asked, stepping closer. He shook his head and let out a puff of air, “Y/N’s gonna leave me- I fuckin’ deserve it, but I want my wife Sydney. She won’t even fuckin’ talk to me, but she’ll fuckin’ divorce me? It’s bullshit.” Carmy cried to her. Syd stood there for a moment to collect her thoughts. She swallowed before sitting down next to him and pat Carmy’s shoulder as she began to explain her point of view on the situation, “You fucked up, Carmen. But you love Y/N and Mia- just go. Go home. I’ll cover tonight. Go talk to your wife.” 

Carmy took Syd’s suggestion. He wasn’t sure if you’d let him in or even talk to him, but he knew he should at least try.

~

“I don’t know Natalie. I just… I mean- I’m gonna sound like a dumb bitch, but maybe I could?” you groaned into your phone as Natalie was about to answer the doorbell rung. “Hey Nat, can I call you back in a bit? Someone’s here.” you waited for her passive agreement and hung up. You put your phone in your back pocket and went to the front door. You felt your stomach flip when you opened the door to reveal Carmy standing in your doorway. He was an unshaven mess, with messy curls and dark circles under his eyes. “Carmen? What are you doing here?” you questioned, bracing the door, hoping it would prevent him from entering your once-shared house. “You’re divorcing me?” he asked on the brink of tears. You sighed, “I asked Tiffany for her lawyer's information- that’s all.” 

“Y/N, you can’t leave me without giving me a chance to make things right.” Carmy pleaded. You sucked your teeth, “Carmen, I really don’t want to talk about this right now… Mia’s asleep, but you can come in and say goodnight if you want.” you offered as you pulled your sleeves over your hands. Carmy nodded furiously, “I-I, ye-yes, please.”

Carmy stared down at Mia’s sleeping body. She was splayed across her crib in a green onesie with a pacifier to match. Carmy swallowed as he watched her legs twitch. “She doesn’t like sleep sacks anymore?” he asked softly. You nodded before answering, “She decided it was her own personal hell a couple weeks ago, so now she’s a big girl.” 

Carmy laughed softly and put his hand on Mia’s cheek. She squirmed and leaned into his hand, “I love you, princess.”

You walked Carmy out of the nursery and into the hallway by the front door, “Can we talk?” Carmy asked, trying not to burst into tears and lock himself in the nursery. You nodded, “Okay. What do you want to talk about?” 

Carmy swallowed. “I know you hate me, but I need to see Mia.” He took a quick breath before continuing, “Y/N, please don’t keep my daughter from me. I’ll give you whatever you want. I just need to see my daughter.” Carmy sniffled as he wiped his eyes. 

Guilt. When you saw the hurt on his face, you knew what you had to do. “Next time I need someone to watch her, I’ll call you.” you offered, Carmy grinned and thanked you before starring at you with the same love and admiration he always had. He turned to walk back to his car but stopped in the middle of the yard, “I love you. I’m gonna win you back.” he pushed a hand through his hair before shoving them in his jacket pockets. You rolled your eyes, “Bye Carmen. Drive safe.” 

~

The flu hit your office like a semi-truck. Everyone got sick, including you, and taking care of a sick baby proved more complicated than you’d thought. No one could help you, so reluctantly, you called Carmy to come be with Mia that night. He was over the moon but tried to play it cool, you saw it through immediately. It was sweet in a cheesy, trying too hard kind of way.

“Hey baby, I brought you pastina soup and Tylenol.” he grinned, handing you a paper bag, “Thank you, Carmen.” you were short with him. Carmy noticed but chopped it up to you being sick, “I can make you some tea.” he offered as you walked back to your bedroom. “I’m fine, Carmen. Please just watch Mia,” you said over your shoulder before closing the bedroom door behind you. You wanted to be mad at him, but it was hard when he was so thoughtful… and handsome. He cleaned himself up since the last time you saw him.

Carmy sat back on the couch, making funny faces at Mia. She squealed and grabbed the air in Carmy’s direction. “I missed you so much, princess.” he laughed as he brought her up to his chest; he rubbed her back as she tried to hug him. “Okay, let's check on Mommy and then make some dinner. Daddy missed his favorite sous.” Carmy explained as he got up. The two walked down the hallway, Mia babbling away as Carmy adjusted her in his arms. He bumped the bedroom door open with his hip and saw you peacefully sleeping. He stepped into the bedroom and grabbed the trash from your side table. Mia grumbled as the two of you exited the room; Carmy chuckled and kissed her temple. “I know, princess. I wanna snuggle with Mommy too, but she doesn’t feel well… and hates me, but we’ll figure it out.”

You abruptly woke up around midnight when you heard talking through the baby monitor. You stumbled out of your bedroom and across the hall to the nursery; the door was askew, and as you approached it, you more clearly heard Carmy’s voice. He was laying on the floor next to Mia’s crib, “My little Mia… I wish you could stay this little forever.” he whispered as he put his hand up to the crib gate. The sight alone made your heart yearn for your family to be back together. You knew what you had to do.

~

“And that princess is how you make scrambled eggs, the right way.” you laughed when you overheard Carmy’s cooking lesson. You walked into the kitchen and saw Carmy plating up scrambled eggs, “Hey.” you greeted as you got a mug from the cabinet. Carmy grinned in your direction, “Mornin’ baby. Feelin’ better?” 

“Feelin’ waaaaaaay better,” you started, “Thanks for coming over to take care of her. I really appreciate it.”. Carmy leaned against the counter, “I’m her Dad- it’s my job.”

“You’re a good one… I don’t know where you’ve been staying, but if you want, I uh- I made up the guest room if you want to come home…” you explained, “I feel like I’ve been keeping Mia from you, and that’s fucked up.” you rocked on your heels hoping Carmy wouldn’t assume this offer meant you wanted to get back together. He nodded immediately, “I would love that.” Carmy was giddy at the idea of getting to be with Mia every day again- it also gave him an opportunity to win you back.

It had only been a few days since Carmy had been back home, and he jumped right back into the daily hustle and went above and beyond what he usually did. Carmy changed his schedule and managed to do a lot of his restaurant owner duties at home so that he could be with Mia more. The house was clean, the pantry was stocked with all your favorite snacks, home-cooked meals, and a very happy baby, and it drove you crazy.

“I just- this man is driving me insane.” you ranted as you sipped your margarita. It was girls’ night out with Syd and Natalie. You were two margaritas in and deep in your feelings. “I should just forgive-” you were cut off by Natalie exclaiming, “NO! You can’t just forgive him, Y/N. He’s a fuckin’ idiot for even thinking about being with another woman. It makes all his ‘you make me a better man’ vows bullshit. Our Dad used to do the same shit to Donna all the time- and she just accepted it! Then he left her. I don’t want Carmy to do the same to you- he already fuckin’ started doing it.”

You were taken aback by Natalie’s ranting and raving; you’d known that Carmy had a difficult relationship with his Dad, but you hadn’t known the full extent. You looked at Syd, wanting her to weigh in on the situation, “Carmy’s an asshole, but he’s your asshole. He loves you. He loves Mia. I don’t know if he’ll do it again - if my partner pulled something like this on me, I think I’d hear them out.”

It was almost 10 when Carmy had finally managed to get Mia to fall asleep. He was exhausted after a long day, but when he’d gone into your bedroom to get the baby monitor, he couldn’t help but notice a satin black thong sitting on the top of the laundry hamper. He stared at the underwear for a moment before shaking his head. He wasn’t going to take his wife’s dirty underwear. Carmy walked toward the door before pausing and going back to the hamper. “I guess I am that guy,” he scoffed, grabbing the panties and putting them in the pocket of his sweatpants. 

Carmy lay in bed leaning against a pile of pillows, scrolling through the private folder on his photo app. “There it is…” he mumbled as he tapped the video before putting his headphones in. “You promise no one else will see this, right?” your voice flooded Carmy’s ears as he pushed his sweats off. “Of course not, baby.” he reassured you as your hands reached for his zipper. He watched as you bit your lip and unzipped his pants. Carmy groaned as he watched you give him a blow job. Carmy took the underwear he’d stolen from your bedroom and started stroking himself. The sensation reminded him of when he’d tease you before relentlessly fucking you into a crying mess. 

“Oh fuck-” Carmy exhaled as he felt his orgasm approaching. He swiped to the next video of riding him. Carmy salivated at the sight of your bouncing tits. You were moaning his name as your movements got more frantic, “Cream all over my fuckin’ cock, baby.” 

“That was a fun night,” you said startling Carmy, he dropped his phone before quickly covering himself with a blanket as you stood in the doorway. You giggled at his reaction, you were just going to ask how Mia was before going to bed but catching Carmy masturbating with your underwear… blame it on the alcohol but you wanted a taste.

“I uh- I didn’t hear you- hear you come inside.” Carmy stumbled over his words as you fully entered the guest room. “No need for you to be embarrassed, Carmy…” he watched with wide eyes as you moved around the bed to sit next to him on the bed. You sighed and pushed the blanket off his lap to expose him.

You pushed your hand up Carmy’s thigh, making him swallow hard. “What made you so hard, baby? Were you being a little perv… jacking off with my dirty panties… watching a video of me sucking your cock?” you mewled as you ran your fingers along his thigh. Carmy nodded as he stared into your eyes. You giggled and grasped the base of his length. He croaked as you started to stroke him, “You like that baby?” you asked cocking your head to the side, staring up at him. He nodded as he let his head fall back against the headboard.

Carmy whimpered as you ran your tongue along the bottom of his cock. You swirled your tongue around his leaking tip, making him swear under his breath. As you took more of him in your mouth, his whimpers turned to whiny moans. You pulled away with a pop. Carmy stared down at you, watching a string of saliva connect your lips to the head of his cock. “Does that feel nice, baby?” you asked as you returned to pumping your hand around him. “So-so nice,” he replied, touching your cheek. You smiled as you pushed it away.

“But, why should I suck your cock if you’re gonna let just any woman off the street suck it?” you asked. Carmy shook his head, “Only-only you, baby-y.” he shuddered.

“Only me? Tell me, Carmen, who does this cock belong to?” he was putty in your hands as you slowed your pace. “You, baby, only you.” he groaned, “Prove it.” you challenged.

Carmy buried his face in the crook of your neck as he slowly pressed into your entrance as you lamented at the familiar sensation. You held onto Carmy’s shoulders as he started thrusting his hips in a steady rhythm, “Hmm, Carmy…” you hummed as he hungrily kissed your neck.

“I don’t deserve you baby…”

Tag List @namjoons-crabssss @sl-ut @thottae @cuddlehye @prurose @1184p @chaoticfanficfanx @ok-boke @literatureluster @bxtchopolis @americanprometheuss @buckystwilight @earth-elemental18 @thebearlily @siren-melodies @thel0v3hashira143 @innercreationflower @unpoqu1todetodo @thehouseofevangelista @pizzaspirits @aleemendoza2425-blog @visualbutterflysworld

Part 5

[sunallama]

bed head | kuroo tetsuro x reader

kuroo tetsuro’s hair was odd. he’d known it his whole life. he’d known it since he was a little kid and the other kids would call him names such as rooster head. he’d known it since the days his parents would chastise him for going to school with a bed head, despite his best efforts to tame it. he’d known it since the days he would spend hours in front of the mirror brushing downwards, only for it to pop right back to the mess it was before.

for no matter how long tetsuro stood in front of the mirror, wrestling his hair, every night he would end up in the same position. lying on his stomach with a pillow smushed on either side of his head, trying desperately to drown out the sound of his parents yelling. every night he fought back shaky tears and tried to lull himself to sleep. the next morning he would wake up and walk outside his room to see the tired eyes of his parents, parents who refused to look at each other. his mother would kiss him on the forehead and assure him that everything was alright, with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. he would continue on with his day, only for the cycle to repeat again every single night.

kuroo tetsuro’s hair was odd, and he had accepted it.

tetsuro continued sleeping in this position for a long time, long after his parents divorce, and long after he moved out of the house and into a place of his own. it wasn’t until he met you that he even realized his odd sleeping habits.

you, tetsuro’s beloved girlfriend, had come over to spend the night at his place for the first time. as he lay his head on the pillow, with you sleeping soundly on his chest and your legs intertwined, he was reminded of how he was completely unused to sleeping like this. despite that, he loved it. he loved having you safe in his arms, so close to him. he had never felt more relaxed as he drifted off to sleep, and he wanted to sleep like this for the rest of his life.

over the years, you eventually moved in with tetsuro, and he never went back to sleeping the old way again. he spent every night entangled with you in his arms, and every morning waking up to the same breathtaking sight of you still there.

“good morning tetsuro,” you giggled as your boyfriend snuck up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. he hummed in response, littering the side of your neck with kisses. you turned to face him, staying trapped in his hold.

“someone’s clingy today.” you took his face in your hands, pressing a small kiss to his nose.

“i wouldn’t be if someone didn’t decide to leave the bed so early on a saturday morning.” he complained, letting his head fall on your shoulder. you let out another laugh, and he playfully lifted his head to glare at you. suddenly, your expression shifted.

“tetsuro, your hair,” you furrowed your eyebrows, taking some of his locks in your hand. his face shifted into one of confusion.

“what about it?” he dragged himself away from you and towards the nearest mirror in the living room, filled with self consciousness. he inspected his hair, with you following closely behind.

“look,” you pointed at the top of his head, “it’s falling down.”

tetsuro blinked in surprise, and realized that you were right. he hadn’t noticed it because it had happened over the course of a few months, but he no longer was sporting the messy bedhead he had for his entire childhood. his hair now fell mostly downwards, with only a few strands sticking up. his chest panged with a sudden reminder of how he used to sleep, and why he did it. you had taken him and shown him a loving home, when all he’d ever known was a broken one. memories of sleeping to the sound of his parents fighting had been replaced with new ones, filled with yours and his laughter. he never slept with his head stuffed between two pillows after that fateful night of sleeping with you for the first time. he looked at you, and for the first time in his life, imagined a happy marriage, with beautiful kids that would never need to know the sound of their parents clashing. all this, reflected in his new hair.

“tetsu?” you called, waving your hand in front of his face. he blinked, crashing back to the sight of you.

“hmm?”

“you spaced out, i’ve been calling your name for the last 30 seconds.” you rested your hand on his cheek, inspecting his new hair with those shining eyes. “is everything ok?”

“yeah,” he started, hand itching towards the boxed ring in his pocket.

“everything’s great.”

[lisenberry]

The mountain is you

Ch. 2 - I don't know what it is that I'm climbing to

~2.4k

E/MDNI/18+

CW: BDSM negotiations, dom!Price, dom!Ghost, pain play

(Chapter 1, Chapter 3, Chapter 4)

It’d been a while since John had spoken to his former lieutenant, and even longer since he’d seen him.  The last few years had passed in a fog, so it was a shock when he saw the familiar number come across his phone.  He only briefly hesitated before answering. 

Soap and Gaz texted him all the time.  Links of foolish videos on the clock app, and pictures of mysterious rashes on their body parts that they needed help identifying.

But Ghost wasn’t one to waste anyone’s time.  Whatever it was, it was important.  And as it turned out, he had a proposition for him.

“You need a project, Cap.  Something to keep you sharp.”

“Are you worried about me, Simon?”

“We all are.”

John had been the one to start Life Connect 141.  An opportunity that gave the lads a place to channel their post-combat restless energy in a way that wouldn’t get them a murder conviction or a stint in a maximum-security psych ward.  It kept them together as a team and gave them a purpose.  And the opportunity to launder some of the not-quite-above-board money they’d liberated over the course of their travels.

Some veterans of special ops worked with rescued pit bulls.  Others started fitness programs, backpacking guide schools, and preparedness training facilities.

His boys filled their own rewarding niche.  Even after John’s departure, the company had flourished and from what he could tell, they were all staying out of trouble.

Judging by Ghost’s concern, he was the one who was floundering.  A marriage to the wrong woman, and the subsequent messy divorce, had left him dangerously adrift.  He’d thought about returning to the work, but his heart wasn’t in it anymore.

“Just meet her.  Trust me.  You can decide then if you’re doing me a favor, or the other way around.”

And he did trust Ghost.  With his life.  And if anyone had been keeping track, he imagined the scales were just about even between who owed whom more.

In the end, he agreed to the meeting.  For no other reason than to see for himself what had one of the toughest, most resourceful bastards he’d ever known seeking his expertise. 

They’d been at the table for a half hour, going over your file and discussing the particulars when John glanced up to catch his first impression of you.  A breezy blouse and a long, colorful skirt.  You looked around the outside seating area but didn’t see them.

Or more likely, you didn’t recognize Ghost without his mask on, judging by the surprised laughter that met his ears a few seconds later.

“Ah, dove.  There you are.”  Simon grinned as he stood, pulling you into a friendly hug. 

“You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve never seen you without the mask before.  I’m trying to reconcile the picture in my head.  I’ll try not to stare.”  An endearingly warm smile lit up your face.

You weren’t at all what John had pictured, either.  He’d clearly have to adjust the conclusions he’d reached based on your file.  He’d read about your stressful, demanding job, your high intelligence and predilection for punishment, and he’d imagined someone harder.  Colder.

There was a notation in the margin on one of the pages that had stood out as well. 

Daddy issues??? Undisclosed but probable.

He made his own note to inquire further, suddenly anxious to know everything there was to know about you.

“The mask is an improvement, don’t you think?” Ghost shrugged.  Was he actually blushing? 

Surely it was just the heat of the sun or a trick of the light.

“It has its charms, but you have a very honest face.”  The way you laid your hand reassuringly on his lieutenant’s arm made John clear his throat and offer his own hand in greeting.

As cute as your connection was, you were there for him, and he noticed the way you’d nervously avoided meeting his gaze.  The way you’d chosen to cling instead to Simon, the devil you knew. 

He had no desire to forcibly extricate you from your bond with your previous Dom.  That wasn’t how it worked.  At best, John could match it.  Slowly.  If he did his job right, in time, you’d come to look at him with a similar trust.

“Nice to meet you,” your eyes finally flitted to his as he took your cool, smooth palm into his own. 

It was then that he felt it.  The twitchy, fevered thrill of a worthy mission.

“So, what does that file say about me?”  You sipped your pint, finding your throat suddenly dry and your forehead warm, and in need of something to do with your hands. 

Ghost had excused himself a short while before, after making the introductions and sharing a few stories of his and John’s time working together.   

You’d found being alone with him to be...intense.  He seemed impenetrable.

He didn’t look down at the folder, and kept it closed on the table.  His pen held between his two hands, contemplative and resolute.

“That you’re a pain slut.  With a high tolerance.”  His voice didn’t rise above his gruff, conversational tone, and you didn’t bother to look around at your fellow patrons seated near you.  With the din of the restaurant, they wouldn’t be able to hear.  “Does that bother you?”

“No.  It’s the truth.”  You didn’t have anything to hide.  Not from him at least.  Not if this was going to work.

“What is it about pain that you seek out?”  He crossed his arms over the table and leaned in closer.  Biceps bunching under his t-shirt.  Ghost had always worn a suit.  John looked like he came from a construction site.  Unshaven and slightly dangerous.

You didn't hate it.

“When it’s done right, there’s a moment right before it gets to be too much that my body starts to fight back.  As if to say, ‘Go on, I dare you.  Is that all you’ve got to give?’  And just then, right before I give in and quit, it’s the most powerful I’ve ever been.  The most alive.”

“It’s the rush then, is it?”  He studied you like a therapist.  And you felt like a patient.  Only this therapist’s job was to tie you up and make you cry.  And come.  And cry again.  The thought made you shudder inwardly with anticipation.   

“It doesn’t work for all pain.  It’s not the blood or the risk of injury.  I don’t get off at the thought of the dentist...” you trailed off with a light laugh, finding it easier to talk to him about this than you'd thought. “But sometimes, the more helpless I am, the stronger it feels.  There aren’t too many things you can do without thinking about it.  Against your will.  Beating, breathing, feeling.  There’s a freedom in it.  Again, if it’s done right.”

“You don’t like to think, then.  You’d rather be surprised?”

“I don’t mind surprises.  I like them, actually.  We don’t have to negotiate everything ahead of time, so long as it feels right in the scene.”

You finished off the last of your pint and smoothed the napkin that had caught to the condensation on the bottom.  A first date, a therapy session, and an interview all in one.  And yet it didn’t fill you with the same anxiety as it should.  It could’ve gone wrong in a hundred different ways, and yet the more you confided, the more you relaxed. 

“Talk to me about these hard lines.”  He opened your file, skimmed it, and moved his pen back and forth as if he was underlining something boldly.

“Always be honest with me about what you’re going to do.  Don’t play games or make me have to choose something in order to please you.  Keep me engaged, but if I have to make a decision it will take me out of it.”

“That’s important to know, thank you.”  He made another note on the page.  “It also says no choking, but with an asterisk next to it.  Care you elaborate?”

“When I was little, I had terrible asthma.  Life threatening at times.  It’s under control now, but not being able to breathe, or even the threat of it, doesn’t...” you paused, searching for the right word to convey your biggest fear, “arouse me.  Let’s just say.”

“I understand why it wouldn’t.”  No sympathetic indulgence, thankfully, just a solid nod of support. 

Could he relate?  You wondered what hard lines he had.  You couldn’t imagine anything scaring him. Ghost had reacted the same when you’d had this discussion.  No questions, no bargaining.  Just respect for your vulnerability.  Surprising, from two men who seemingly had none themselves.

It prompted you to delve in further, and leave no room for misunderstanding, just in case.

“No collars, no ribbons, bows, belts, neckties, your hands, anything please.”

“Neck is off limits.  Noted.” 

“You can still kiss me there, if that’s something you like.  Or you can slap me, to get my attention.  And if you need to move me around or hold me down, you can grab my hair.”

You punctuated the last with a helpful smile and a shrug of your shoulders.  His gaze seemed to find your neck then, perhaps contemplating what it’d be like to kiss it.  Did the thought bring him as much excitement as it did you?

“Fair enough.”  A contented grunt was all you received in response.

“You said that this would be a reciprocating agreement.  What do you want from me?”  The question that had been on your mind since Ghost had called you.

With him, you just paid him money.  That was your end of the deal.  Without payment, that left too much to your imagination and you’d let it run a bit wild. 

“I’ll tell you what I want, and when I want it.  Is that clear?  I won’t ask for your permission, and you’ll never have to wonder what I’m thinking.  I don’t hear yes and no, or green and yellow.  Red means take a break and try something else, and the safe word is a hard stop to call it a day.”

“Understood.  Thank you.”  It was a plan you could definitely work with.  “But what about you?  What do you hope to get out of this?”

“I like to be in charge.  Take care of things.  And do the hard things that need to be done.”

“And who takes care of you?”  A simple question, but he seemed to bristle at it.  Perhaps you’d pushed him too far, too soon. 

“Good little girls who listen and behave.”  He adjusted himself in his seat, straightening as if to get back some control.  “Let’s talk punishments.  No spanking, obviously.  You’ll enjoy it too much.”  His eyes seemed to darken in both amusement and desire.

No doubt proud of himself for changing the subject and redirecting the friendly interrogation.

“Hopefully I won’t displease you, but you could ignore me.  That will make me rethink my attitude real quick,” you replied, with an answering grin.

“Ignore you?  I think that would hurt me more than you, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.  You liked that.  Probably said as much with the flood of heat to your cheeks and the breathless giggle that sounded so foreign to your ears. 

“I think we’ll get along just fine...John?”  You questioned what name he wanted to be called.

“Sir.  Just sir.”

On the day of your appointment, he texted you the location and the key code for the door lock.  You found the building easily, and stepped into the elevator, double checking the apartment number to be sure you were in the right place.

When the code worked on the door to the fifth floor, you entered to find that it was someone’s home. 

The office of Life Connect 141 was in a nondescript office space on the outskirts of Canary Wharf, not far from your office.  If anyone spotted you, you could use the excuse of taking a meeting or doing your due diligence on a property you were looking to liquidate.

This, on the other hand, was well off the beaten path.  A restored factory building in a neighborhood you weren’t familiar with, but appeared to be up and coming judging by the activity along the street.  You’d already noted a few restaurants to try on the short walk from the Tube station and filed them away to pick up something to eat on your way home. 

A flat of this size and builder quality must have cost a premium, or else the owner bought in cheap before the neighborhood began to blossom.  It was well-appointed and comfortable.  Floor to ceiling windows that opened to look just above the shorter buildings next door.  Privacy from looking directly at your neighbors, but still connected to the bustling down below.

Once inside, you followed his directions to the letter.  You’d arrived early, dimmed the lights and set your bag on the hook by the door.  Cell phone ringer turned off and your shoes in the basket in the hall.

"I’ll leave what I want you to wear on a chair, you’ll know which one.  Wear nothing else.  There will be a pillow on the floor, you’ll know which one.  You’ll greet me on it."

As you moved in past the entryway, the remaining room was an open concept.  A kitchen with an attached dining area, and a living space on the opposite side.  Two plush sofas and an assortment of chairs and tables.  You didn’t know what to expect.  A pleasure room, maybe, or a dungeon of racks and toys.

It was just a living room.

Any nerves you’d been holding onto dissolved when you spotted the fabric draped across the lapis lazuli velvet wing-backed armchair.  Was that going to be his seat?  It was large enough to hold both of you comfortably...if you were on his lap.  It was certainly a statement piece.

The outfit he’d chosen was a simple, pink silk backless slip dress.  Not cheap satin, but the softest, sheerest gossamer.  You shivered as you stripped from your street clothes and gently settled the confection over your skin.  It barely covered your ass as you folded your things and hid them out of sight.

You briefly warred with whether to leave your hair up or down, deciding on the former, before you finally took a deep breath to center yourself.  Whatever happened next was out of your control.

When your knees met with the pillow at the foot of The Chair, your mind emptied and you felt the tension that you’d been carrying for weeks start to fade.  

Just in time to hear the click of the front door.

[tickettride]

Five minutes || J.D.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

pairing is johnny davis x f!reader

in which watching Brando on screen turns you on, and Johnny is there to help with a quickie on the couch. only for five minutes, though.

word count: 2,3k

warnings: 18+ (mdni), just smut for the sake of it, Johnny is a divorced man

In the quiet evening, with the light cascading across your living room, you had found a spot in the warm orange hue to curl up on the couch. Marlon Brando graced your TV, moving smoothly as though trying to impress you through the screen. Biting on the side of your thumb, you felt yourself smiling at the famous lines you’d learned by heart a couple of years before. All your friends were mad about him, and you weren’t indifferent either. There was something about his stance and the way he moved those lips. 

“What’s funny?”

Looking up from the screen, you met Johnny’s eyes, standing by the door. He was wearing the leather jacket he only wore when it got colder, a tiny scar adorning his nose. 

“Nothin’,” you replied, repressing a grin with a quiet cough. 

With heavy footsteps, Johnny came to look at the reason you were feeling so giddy. On the screen, the other man was now holding his sweetheart in his arms, a chaste kiss pressed on her coloured lips. 

“Looks like I’ve got a reason to be jealous,” Johnny commented, watching your flushed cheeks and dilated pupils. 

God, he looked just the same. Just bigger, and even hotter. There was something so commanding about him that made you want to melt into a puddle every time he looked at you. You wondered how you hadn’t fallen into his bed the minute you had seen him. 

Desire pooled between your legs as his dry and knowing smile dimpled his cheeks.

“Not one reason,” you said, finally noticing the tension in his shoulders. You knew him by heart. “Rough day?”

That’s all it took for him to start talking, stepping farther into the room. Johnny used to be rigid and emotionally detached–and you guessed it was all because of the messy divorce with his late wife. It had been nearly impossible to get him to talk about his feelings. He would just bottle it up until he would explode, and the outcome was never pretty. Johnny was a man more accustomed to threats than to promises. 

But now, with enough patience and promises of loving him unconditionally, the words came easier for him. You were undoubtedly the only person he trusted now.

“Shitty day."

The room fell into silence for two seconds as Johnny came to sit beside you. 

“Two other guys told me they’re leavin’ town. That’s four men in a week. And I’m not blamin’ our fucking system, ‘cause they don’t even follow the system to begin with. They all act like they can leave whenever they want. Like the club doesn’t even mean anythin’.”

“That sucks,” you said softly, giving him a fleeting half smile. “They apologized?”

Johnny shook his head, eyes on the TV. You stroked his shoulder gently, following his gaze when you guessed he wouldn’t talk about it anymore. You felt almost guilty for drooling over another man when yours was so tired of one of the things he loved most in his life. Brando was slipping on his leather jacket, which made you look away. Once again, you cleared your throat and tried to ignore the burning between your legs.

“I’m supposed to meet everyone tonight,” Johnny’s rubbed his lips, unaware of how handsome he looked. “Set new rules they’ll follow only the first week."

“You don’t want to.”

“Nah.”

You almost smiled. He almost had no secrets for you anymore. 

“So you’re stayin’ with me?” you asked in that hopeful voice, your skin heating at the mere thought of what he might do to you. 

Johnny looked back at you, eyeing your lips for a second before sighing. “Can’t. Need to talk to them ‘bout somethin’ else."

“But you don’t want to,” you repeated, and he skimmed you for a moment. “I know that look.”

Your pretty dress, the perfumed hair falling upon your shoulders. It was meant to lure him in, wasn’t it? 

“It’s not a question of want, is it?” Johnny pressed his hand to your breastbone, and you followed the force of his palm until your back met the couch. 

Yes, your brain thought, already picturing him inside you. Yes.

“It is, actually,” you licked your lips, his dominance pouring over you. “What do you want?”

Johnny stared at you for a while before chuckling at your response, straightening again. He didn’t think you were being serious. 

No!

At least his hand remained on your stomach as he looked down at you, doing a poor job at concealing his amused smile. So you grasped his hand in yours, squeezing lightly as you made it slide to your breasts. 

“What’s five minutes?” 

“They’re gonna wait for me,” Johnny shook his hand, though he looked really drawn to the way you made him fondle you. 

You shifted quickly to adjust a cushion behind your head, letting out a small comfortable sigh as you stared up at his darkening gaze. 

“Can you go down on me, at least?” you asked, expelling any lingering remorse or embarrassment. “I’ve waited all day long, and I don’t even know when you’ll be back.”

“All day long?”

“Yes, all day long,” you sighed, because how could he not see this was a serious matter? “Now if you want to head out, I won’t wait for you.”

Johnny lowered himself to hover above your frame, his hands on either side of you. With his lips only inches away from yours, he made your breath quicken until your heartbeat thrummed in your ears.

“That’s called blackmail,” he said deeply, kissing you on the cheek so sensually you almost made a sound. “I know what you’re tryin’ to do to me. Keepin’ me home so you can have me all to yourself.”

Your legs curved around his waist, drawing him in as much as you wanted to. Johnny just let you lead the way. 

His contradictions made him dizzy, torn by lust and reason. Just like you. 

“That’s called want,” you retorted, voice fading slightly. “I’m really in the mood.”

Johnny let out a deep breath, eyeing your perfect body, almost as though inspecting what he would do to it. It was fucking hot. 

“Please?” you dared to ask, spreading your legs a little. 

Johnny often made the wrong decisions, but never when it came to you. 

“Five minutes,” he conceded, his eyes so fixated on yours, he might as well have been fucking you with them.

“Okay,” you breathed out, internally screaming in victory. 

Honestly, you would have given anything to feel his tongue or cock. You had felt on edge since eight in the morning, and he had already left for work anyway. Nothing would satisfy you the way he touched you. At this rate, he completely owned your body and soul.

As if he might slip through your fingers at any moment, you tried to hold his gaze to make sure he wasn’t a dream.

Leaning down to kiss you, Johnny took advantage of your surprised gasp to slip his tongue into your mouth. The aggressive, forceful kiss contained all the aching need he’d pretended he didn’t want. That liar.

Then, his mouth trailed to the pit of your ear, which made you shiver. “Five minutes.”

You hummed back, saying the two words back with ease because you knew he wouldn’t be able to leave without fucking you first, no matter what happened. 

“Do you want me to keep my dress on?” you panted as he removed his leather jacket, throwing it on the floor. He looked so tall and imposing from there.

“Keep it on,” he sniffled hard to contain his own arousal as you bunched your dress messily to your hips, twisting until the warm air smoothed over the lace.

His mission was to please you, not waste time taking off your pretty clothes. With ease, Johnny quickly pulled your panties off your ankles, throwing them over his jacket as he watched you for a second. 

Your breath hitched as he knelt between your legs, seizing your hips that rocked upwards. 

“Take a breath,” he said, a hand sliding up your chest to knead the soft flesh of your covered breasts. 

You couldn’t deny yourself what your body craved any longer. Now, because of him, you were so pent up that the seconds felt agonizingly slow, and a single touch made you moan. It was entirely his fault. 

“I’m trying. If you don’t hurry up–”

Your fingers scraped through his soft hair as he dropped to his elbows, slid his shoulders under your knees and started kissing your hot flesh. Heavy kisses dotted your inner thighs before his mouth found your core, and you swore the sound of relief you made could have woken up the whole neighborhood.

The next wet stroke of his tongue was punctuated by a rougher suck. You forced yourself to slow your breathing and relax your body, but it felt impossible. Johnny’s hands gripped you so tightly that his knuckles disappeared into your flesh. Mine, it said. Mine.

“Good news,” you moaned when he swirled his tongue around your clit for a sudden change of pace, making you roll your eyes back. “I’m not gonna last five minutes. Not… gonna make it."

Groaning in approval and maybe with a bit of pride, Johnny buried his face deeper into you. The mere sight nearly made you come. You wouldn’t make it past the next ten seconds at this rate. 

“Which means,” you shut your eyes, a string of incoherent mumbles leaving your lips as you tried to get a hold of yourself and brace one hand on the top of the couch, “we can… we’ve got four minutes left.”

Johnny pulled back just as pressure was starting to build up, which truly made you want to kill him on the spot. Irritation heated your belly, but he didn’t seem to notice, nor care.

“You wanna finish like that?” he asked, inhaling a breath. 

“Oh my God, yes,” you bit out, pushing his head down again. “Go on.”

Spurred on by your impatience and your confidence–something that turned him on so much–Johnny smiled wider. Your thighs tightened around his jaw as he grazed his fingertips over your lips, accompanying his hungry tongue, before driving two thick fingers into you.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah? Feels good?” Johnny’s voice was the last thing you heard before the pressure erupted, flooding through your core and making you pant even harder. This. This was what you’d been wanting all day—to share his air and to feel your legs shaking all because of his face and his needy noises. You had never been so needy before. Not that much.

“I love you,” you moaned with barely concealed desire, shivering as his lips briefly came back to yours. 

“Love ya too.”

“You’ll still love me in four minutes?” you asked against his lips, whining at the loss of warmth when he pulled down his pants, kicking them off clumsily. 

Johnny first responded with a roll of his hips, before aligning his hardened cock with your entrance and driving so hard forward your back arched from the couch. Your other words disappeared when he inhaled sharply through his teeth, keeping still for a moment to feel you clench around him. 

“Oh, yesyesyes.”

“I’ll love ya in four minutes and all the years after that,” he thrusted deep and hard, building you to another peak in record time. “Every time ya need it. I’ll come home ‘n fuck ya however ya want.”

Struggling to keep your eyes open, you focused on his mouth over yours instead. Johnny swallowed down every whimper like they were his last meal, desperate to give you what you wanted and more for the night to come, not an inch left untouched. 

“You’re so good,” your fingers curled on his shoulders as your eyes gradually lost focus, sending you to that point of no return. “Fuck. I needed you so bad.”

Johnny dropped his face into your neck and growled, reaching between your thighs to make you come faster. “I know, honey. I know.”

It was all too much. His smell, his closeness and the way he was so determined to give you a satisfying orgasm. The couch squeaked against the floorboard, but all you could hear was his voice praising you. 

“Come on," he purred. "Let’s have it before I leave, hmm?”

Writhing beneath him and not knowing if you were screaming his name or whispering, you finally reached that point and that flipped some primal switch inside of him. His hips moved in hard punches and his head tipped back in pleasure as he came inside you, groaning your name. 

None of you spoke for a while, minds still hazy from the sudden rush of adrenaline. You were definitely adding horny quickies to your mental list. And the way he looked down at you, his chest heaving with deep breaths. Five more minutes couldn’t be enough for all the things you’d do to him.

“Bad news, you’re late,” you teased, rubbing your eye tiredly. “They’re gonna wait for you.”

Johnny’s eyes studied you for a second, and he huffed a laugh that made you chuckle, your cheeks crimson.

“You’re killin’ me,” he muttered, stroking your thigh as affection flashed in his face. “Gonna drive me mad someday.”

“I know,” you agreed softly, stretching your arms in the air, which attracted his gaze down to your body again. “You’re leavin’ now?”

“You want me to?”

“No,” a small sigh involuntarily escaped your mouth. “But they need you, boss.”

You ran your thumb over his cheek, feeling the prickles of stubble beginning to form. 

“Call us if you need anythin’,” Johnny told you, his eyes too serious for the situation. “I mean it. You ask for me, and I’ll be home.”

With a nod, you tilted your head closer to his and smiled against his lips, pulling away when the kiss felt too intimate again. Time’s up, you had to remind yourself. 

“Okay,” you didn’t move as Johnny quickly slipped on his pants, casting you a glance as he walked out the door. "Be safe!"

[wandasgf]

ANDROMEDA. mdni. 18+.

pairing: wanda maximoff + stepdaughter!reader

summary: all wanda wants is to relax, why does that seem so hard?

warnings: implied cheating, stepcest, no explicit sexual content, mommy kink, age gap, alcohol consumption, implied sexual content

wc: 2.1kish

It didn't start out like this, you swear. You didn't start out wanting to ruin your own father's marriage so that you could be with your new step mother. You used to feel bad about it, really, you did, but it's been about a year now and it's not like your father deserves Wanda anyway. They’d been married for about a year and a half and you swear you’ve never even seen them hold hands. He was always on business trips, you rarely saw him. It used to make you sad, never seeing your father, but distance creates disdain.

That’s pretty much how you found yourself in your best friend, Kate’s, bedroom, laying on the bed with your head hanging off and staring at the, upside down from your point of view, poster of some celebrity Kate was obsessed with. You think her name is Hailee? You don't know, but anyway, you were thinking about how you were going to convince Wanda to stay at home with you while your father was on yet another trip. Usually Wanda wouldn’t go with your father, but apparently he’s going to Milan and she really wants to go shopping there. And aside from the obvious reason you didn’t want Wansa to go, you really did hate being in that big house alone.

“I don’t know, man. Maybe you should just let her go on the trip, the woman never gets to see her husband, she probably misses him.” Kate shrugs, looking away from her phone to see your reaction. “Ughh, I just don’t understand what she sees in him, I’m obviously better and right here.” You sit up from your position on Kate’s bed and turn towards Kate, sitting cross-legged. Kate sighs in response, “Y/N, you know I love you, but I hate to break it to you, as hot of a milf as she is, and she is believe me, you are still her step daughter and she can’t exactly just… divorce your father to be with you. I mean, I totally get where you’re coming from and I am not gonna stop you from fucking her, but you’ve gotta be realistic here.”

She would be all for this relationship if it weren’t for the very simple and very messy fact that Wanda was married to your father. It was either going to end in heartbreak for you or you completely severing ties with your father to be with Wanda. And while the latter wouldn’t be awful, it’s not like your father was the most present, it just kind of counted on you and Wanda staying together which, as much as she wanted to believe it would, Kate was unsure would happen.

And it’s not that Kate didn’t think it was possible for you to have a long lasting relationship, it’s just that she was afraid lust was clouding your judgment and she’s not sure you actually have any sort of emotional connection…. Ah, but that’s enough worrying, it wasn’t exactly Kate’s strong suit and it was unlikely that you would be successful in your mission to woo Wanda… As if you hadn’t already been messing around with each other, but that didn’t really matter right now.

“Maybe you’re right… I don’t know. I just know that she’d be better off here with me. It’s not like she’d even get to see him a lot while they’re there. He’ll be in meetings or whatever.” You roll your eyes, already annoyed at the thought of Wanda thinking she’d get to have a nice trip and it being ruined by your father. You know you could treat Wanda better than him. “And hey,” Kate perks up, her eyes twinkling and a smile sneaking onto her lips, “If they’re both gone you can throw a party.”

—

Wanda was annoyed. Extremely annoyed, actually. Maybe even a little bit angry, but she wasn’t going to dwell on that feeling. This was supposed to be a nice trip for her, a vacation of sorts, but no, of course it wasn’t. Nothing was ever a nice vacation in the presence of Mr. Bigshot CEO Jarvis. It’s her fault, really, falling for his charming little facade and then for some god forsaken reason deciding to marry him. It’s not like she can go back in time to change it though, so she better not think about it too much, and he’s rich so that’s a plus she supposes.

At least he had a cute daughter, but that’s besides the point, she’s letting her mind drift again.

She’d been waiting for him to get back from whatever the hell kind of meeting he was at, she didn’t care, so that they could go get dinner at the restaurant down the street from the condo they were staying at. But as always, he texted her to say he’d be running a little bit late. That text was sent two hours ago and she’s not sure how much waiting she has left in her. She’d give him five more minutes before she got on a plane and left without a word.

She had just finished zipping up her suitcase when she heard the door open, what impeccable timing that stupid man had. Sighing and looking towards the door, Wanda attempted to give a somewhat genuine smile. “Sweetheart!!” Slurred the clearly drunk man as he stumbled into the room, he reeked of alcohol and it almost made Wanda gag. “You’re late. Extremely late. Again.” She crossed her arms over her chest as she stared at him, clearly unimpressed. “Oh, come on. Me and the boys just went out for a few drinks after retro… retrofits!”

He meant retrospectives.

“Yeah, I’m sure you did. Well, you can have a nice time here in Milan, I am going home.” Wanda could put up with a lot of things, but this was just ridiculous. He had never been punctual, but it had usually been because his meetings actually were running late, not whatever this was. “Home? No, it’s called Seta.” He clearly thought she meant the restaurant which she was no longer planning on going to. “No. I am getting on a plane and I am going home. But please, don’t let that stop you from enjoying your time here.” She laughed, mostly at how pathetic she thought it was that she expected this trip to be any different than how it was at home. And with that, she was out the door and walking down to the lobby to try and figure out what the best way to the airport was and if she could just take some sort of personal jet of her husband’s to get home.

—

The party was in full swing, music blasting, drunk 20 somethings everywhere and you were in the center of it. You always did like attention. It took you and Kate about two days to plan and figure out who to invite, but it went about as well as you had expected. Instead of having a somewhat laid back party, Kate decided at the last minute that she would text out an invite to all of their friends and then also let them text their friends about it. So now there were about 100 people in your house and backyard.

Unfortunately, Kate was just about the most social person you have ever met. Somehow, though, nothing has been broken yet, but there are way too many red plastic cups on the ground. Kate is less drunk than you are, but by no means sober and you have… well… had enough alcohol to stop you from drinking for at least the next two weeks. Waking up tomorrow would not be pleasant.

“Hey Y/N!” Kate is practically shouting over the music, “Are we expecting anyone else? A car just pulled up!” She’s pretty sure everyone is here, even Nico had somehow convinced Illyana to take a break from studying (brooding in her room) to come to the party. Which is a miracle in itself. Speaking of those two, she hasn’t seen them in a while, she hopes for your sake they aren’t fucking somewhere in the house. “I don’t think so, but I’ll go greet them anyway!!” You slur, smiling excitedly. “Y/N I don’t think-” Kate doesn’t get to finish her sentence before you’re skipping away towards the front door. “Okay.” Kate nods to herself before walking away to go find wherever Peter was, the last time she saw her she was playing beer pong with the other Peter, Gamora’s boyfriend Peter. Something about battle of the Peters.

You stumble out the front door, squinting to try and see who just pulled up. It was dark out and you weren't wearing your glasses. Oh, and being incredibly drunk didn’t help. You gasp when you see who it is. “Wands!!” Your eyes widen in excitement and you run towards her, tripping over your own feet in the process. You didn’t usually call Wanda by the nickname, but you didn’t really care right now. Wanda is quick to stop you from falling, cursing under her breath when she realizes how drunk you are. You would be a handful in the morning.

And then she finally hears the loud music and the voices and slowly looks around to see all of the clearly drunk people currently on her, well, your father's property. “Y/F/N.” Her voice is stern and it catches you so off guard you almost stumble backwards, your eyes wide. You pout, upset that the first thing Wanda does when she sees you when she gets home is be upset with you. You probably would have fallen if it weren’t for Wanda’s grip on your arms.

“What the hell is this?” She’s not sure why you throwing a party makes her so angry, it usually wouldn’t. Maybe it’s the built up anger from your father bailing on their dinner date to get drunk and the assumption that she’d be able to come home and relax with you. Or maybe it’s the thought of you throwing this big of a party while she’s not even in the country and something bad happening to you. You never did handle alcohol very well, despite drinking like there’s no tomorrow. In any case, she was quite angry.

“It’s a party, silly. Can’t you tell?” You giggle as your sadness melts away, leaning back into Wanda’s hold. “Yes, I know what a party–” Wanda stops herself, sighing, it didn’t matter anyway, You clearly weren't understanding why or that she was upset. She thinks for a couple of seconds and instead she changes tactics, it wouldn’t do any good to make you upset with everyone around and no one would remember any behavior that seemed odd for a step mother and her step daughter, they were all too drunk.

She smiles sweetly, reaching up to stroke your cheek, “Why don’t you go tell everyone to go home, the party is over, okay?” You pout in response, looking up slightly at the older woman, “But I don’t want them to go home.” You practically whine, slumping in Wanda’s arms. Of course this wasn’t going to be easy, you always did love a party. “I know you don’t, but it’s time for everyone to go home, sweetheart. Don't you want to spend some time with me now that I’m home?” Wanda fakes a pout, looking down at you.

Well, you did want to spend time with Wanda…

“But can't you just have fun at the party with me? We can have fun at the party together!!” You beam, no longer upset. Wanda was going to have whiplash with the way alcohol affected your emotions. “Sweet girl, you're so cute, but Mommy wants to spend some time with just the two of us.” She moves her thumb to tug at your bottom lip. “Wouldn't you like that?”

Your cheeks heat up and you feel a familiar heat in your stomach, suddenly feeling a little shy in front of Wanda. She doesn't usually call herself that unless you're alone. “Mhm… I can tell everyone to go home. I’ll get Kate to help and I’ll be so quick, I promise.” Wanda surprises you by leaning down to press a soft kiss against your lips. “Be quick, sweetheart. I’ve missed you.”

“So quick!!” And you almost trip over your feet with how quickly you run to go get Kate. Wanda watches fondly, a small smile on her lips. You're so cute, hopefully you won't get all upset in the morning when she makes you clean everything up.

[pedgito]

MILLER'S GIRL ✎ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter Five: Mr. Miller

Chapter Summary: Years later, you find yourself with choices that feel impossible. And of course, Joel Miller is there at the root of them. [5k]

[student/teacher relationship, age gap, no outbreak, power dynamic]

Chapter Warnings: fem!reader, professor!joel miller (formerly), time jump, joel is a successfully published writer, reunions, drinking, semi-public sex in a bathroom, m!oral, unprotected piv, job proposals, ambiguous endings

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Word doesn’t travel, thankfully. It’s handled swiftly, quietly. Mostly be the discrepancies of Joel, who allows himself to take the full responsibility—for you, for him, and definitely not for Tess.

You’re not sure what expels in the office after you leave that night, other than the gradually rising voices of the troubled couple and Joel–he sounds tired, exasperated, done before Tess can get a word in edgewise. But, you don’t linger much longer.

Joel, however, can’t seem to grasp something to anchor him down, feeling himself slip into a quiet rage. Tess forces the ultimatum on him that night. Either he owns up to, tells her everything, or she would make the divorce hell. He knew she was capable of being vindictive, but he never thought it would be aimed at him. And he knew it all boiled down to him never forgiving her own undue and unjust actions. A bitterness that lingered, festered, and now that she had caught him in his own mess, like he had to her, it was too poetic for her to let things go.

Joel resigns a few weeks later, your interaction minimal—he doesn’t even speak directly to you anymore. He feels like he’s being watched, judged, under constant scrutiny. The reality was that no one knew what had transpired, but it felt louder than ever. The rest of the year is quiet and dull, but you manage.

And the months that follow, they’re fine. But, the spark you had for literature then, even if slightly skewed by Joel and his nefarious obsession with you, never really returns.

The divorce comes several months later for Joel—it isn’t quiet. It’s messy, it’s difficult. Despite his willingness to comply with Tess’s conditions over his pseudo-fling with you, she goes back on her word. Eventually though, he cuts his ties and moves on. And it shouldn’t freak him out that he sees your face in his mind every night after nearly a year of knowing you, but it’s the way he’s memorized every detail about you that paints itself in vivid pictures.

Eventually things get easier and you move on, but Joel can’t bring himself to forget.

He leaves a voicemail on the day of your graduation, a couple years passed, and he still knows—he memorized the day and even if it was without intention, he still feels the pull. To explain or apologize. Something.

He can’t explain why he’s so hung up on the moments he shared with you until the words begin to pour out. And you find yourself curled up on your bed the night of graduation, exhausted mentally, emotionally, physically—but then you see his name on your phone and you break.

You press play on the voicemail and place the phone on the bed.

‘I really…don’t know if you’ll even listen to this. I don’t expect you to, but I wanted to apologize. I manipulated a shitty situation to my advantage to forget my own problems. The shit going on within my own marriage. That wasn’t your fault…and you’re young. I shouldn’t have entertained it and I did. I liked the attention. The attention you gave me and it was wrong. If you ever want to…I don’t know, talk things out? I would like that, but I understand if you ignore this completely. I would too. A long, drawn out breath that delves into a sigh. Uh, congratulations on the graduation. I’m sorry this took so long for me to say. Yeah…anyways, goodbye.”

The abrupt ending is bittersweet, rolling your eyes at his tone. It’s clipped, void of emotion. He’s masking and you can hear it. It only pisses you off further, unable to believe the genuineness in his message or tone so no—you don’t give him the chance to talk it out. And Joel Miller fades from your mind from then on, a distant and bitter memory.

Three Years Later

Working at a local publication company in Austin was never the plan, but it was the fastest thing you could grasp after graduation and several failed internships later—and the money was decent. You had an apartment in the city, close to work, and an easier turnaround time when you needed to get something to the office on an emergency or whim.

You were a lower level employee, editing and working around the simpler marketing for author’s that—most of the time, you didn’t even know the name of. You were meant to take the brunt of the work before it was delivered to the actual team of publication for everything that they didn’t want to handle. Which often included lunch as well, daily, coffee orders every morning, and tasks that felt never ending.

But the one time you did receive a break was the publishing parties. Authors would throw a nice party for the team and a long, never-ending list of connections that led for it to be more of a schmoozy get together than anything.

You went for the alcohol, the food, and the entertainment.

Which, thankfully—they all proved to have a ton of.

So, it should be any other Friday when you walk into the bar downtown, filled to the brim with patrons and company people who were there in attendance and support of the author, who you still had yet to meet. You’d been working on the book for months now, getting small snippets of things to correct and proofread when you weren’t running around to fetch things, but sometimes the curiosity is really just too much.

You grab a drink first, sipping on the sweet mix of liquor and syrup as the people filter in and spread, conversing in a low hum that quickly divulges into a cheer as someone makes their way through the door. They’re muffled by the crowd, loud pats of congratulation and claps that aren’t entirely necessary—but everyone had been anticipating the book to be a best-seller in record time. A book of delicate poetry, beautiful and thoughtful. It was something that brought you back to a time long forgotten, sitting in your bed during your freshman year of college, flitting through the recommendations of a professor that had nearly disappeared off the face of the earth.

So, when your eyes land on Joel Miller as he pushes through the crowd, the pit in your stomach grows and swells to an unbearable size.

He’s different in every way but still inexplicably him—he seemed softer, relaxed. His hair was grown out and curling over his ears and down his forehead, curls tickling against his skin and he sported a full beard, more than he ever allowed himself while he worked as your professor the interim year he was there, patchy in places you don’t realize until he comes closer, still unaware of your presence.

You recognize the suit, though—he’s worn it a million times, week after week and it feels too overwhelming now, knowing you both had left things unfinished. 

Your intentions then weren’t the same as now and you’re almost positive he could say the same—even if you did keep your vindictive streak to get things you wanted, Joel was the only person who had managed to push you in a way that brought out that side of you.

You turn on your heels as a woman catches his attention, smiling brightly and too touchy to be considered a stranger, your back facing him now. You wave and smile at a few passing co-workers, also giving a small murmur of congratulations to Joel before you feel a hand on your back, half ready with your hand balled into a fist before you hear his voice over your shoulder.

It’s a soft whisper of your name, irreverent fondness in his tone, “How’s the open bar?”

He’s folding a jacket over his arm as he squeezes into the small space between you and another person, palm flattened out against the bar as he awaits your answer.

And for once, you don’t have anything to say. 

Your mouth opens once, twice, before quietly snapping shut.

Joel breaks out into a slight smile, “I saw your name on the guest list—I just thought I’d say hi.”

“I didn’t—” You take a shallow breath and press the half-empty glass against the surface, “I don’t usually know anything about who we’re working on publication for, if I had known…I just—”

His hand is a gentle press against your clothed arm, curling around your bicep, “Hey—no harm, no foul. Did you…like my book, at least?”

You chuckle softly, “Uh—yeah, of course. I think that goes without saying. I almost got fired for not providing enough notes when they asked, but I didn’t feel like anything needed to be changed.”

Joel smiles brighter, but his lack of response is palpable.

He nods, pointing at your drink, “Take advantage—seein’ as it’s paid for.”

And you feel the moment fleeing as he turns away for a brief moment and orders his own drink, thankful for the short moment of calm as he didn’t have to constantly talk shop, so your curiosity gets the better of you. You didn’t know when you would ever see him again now that he was standing in front of you—unfinished business and all.

“How are things?” You ask—it’s a vague question that without your past would seem harmless. But, Joel understands. He spots the worry in your brow where it creases subtly in the middle and he chews at his bottom lip, taking the drink that is slipped into his hand.

His ring finger is still bare and he raises the hand up, curled around the glass with eyes that peek over the rim, squinting at your playfully, feigning innocence. 

“Good,” He tells you when brings his drink down to his chest, “Uh—some roadblocks trying to get back into writing but…it’s been alright. And Tess, she’s—I don’t really know how she is but we also haven’t spoken in over two years. Last thing I heard was that she was getting engaged.”

Your eyes widen by the sudden influx of information, surprised by how forthright and open Joel was being, “Oh—that’s…good? For her, I guess.”

Joel chuckles softly and raises his eyebrows in response, agreeing with the uncertainty in your statement. You had grown so accustomed to his small quirks and body language that it was coming back to you in waves, like they had never left. But, the booming voice of a few men on the other side of the bar grab Joel’s attention and he looks slightly disturbed of his peace but offers a quiet apology before leaving you alone, left to process what the fuck was happening.

For someone you haven’t seen in a few years, it shouldn’t make you feel so at ease in their presence and you hate the way it lingers and aches the moment he leaves. The same push and pull that you felt so long ago, it’s overwhelming. 

You finish your drink quietly, watching the warm, orange sky morph into nightfall and you attempt to slink out quietly, having had your fill on alcohol and surprises for the night. And the activity in the bar had only ramped up more in the lingering time—but the fingers around your wrist stop you, stretching through the crowd as you spin slowly on your heels.

“Follow me?” Joel asks lowly in the space between you when you turn to him, difficult to hear under the roar of the crowd but he nudges his head in a far off direction and you nod, feet moving before your brain can process.

Joel yanks you gently into a small, unisex bathroom with a stall in the corner. It’s big enough that you can rest against an opposite wall while he presses up against the door, looking slightly flushed from the alcohol but calm—it’s strange seeing him now, outside of the setting of his work.

Also, time had passed and he’s grown and processed things in the interim.

“I didn’t get a chance to ask about you,” He begins—Joel had only wanted a quiet place to talk to you, bothered by the idea of you the entire night for more than a few reasons, but most importantly, he just needed to know, “how…things have really been?”

“I graduated, but I’m sure you know that,” You tell him, his gaze trailing down as he remembers the half-assed message and apology he left you, “got a job after way too many attempts and failing and I’m living in an apartment here in Austin, it’s a few blocks away from the publishing company. It’s not bad—I thought things would be easier. But… I can’t complain. I mean, I could—there’s really no point, though.”

Joel’s nostrils flair in amusement as his chest vibrates with a laugh, hands tucked behind him as he leaned against the surface, suit jacket having disappeared…somewhere. Now, it was the tight pull of his chest under his shirt, the gaps in his buttons covered by the long stretch of his tie.

You cross your arms gently, one leg hooking over the other as you lean the weight of your shoulder into the wall similarly, the cold breeze of the unheated bathroom brushing against your thighs and you were silently cursing yourself for wearing such a short skirt in the biting cold weather at the end of fall, rolling into winter with a force.

“I can see that hasn’t changed.” Joel comments slyly and you squint your eyes in his direction, wondering his angle. Truthfully, he didn’t have one. 

You roll your eyes momentarily, biting away the smile that creeps onto your face as you look away briefly, distracted by the buzzing, overly luminescent light above your head. The tension between you two had never left, that much was apparent. 

“So, how has single life been?” You ask, feeling silly at the way you word it, but given his openness to tease you so easily, you felt the need to do it back.

Joel begins with a subtle warning of your name that has you huffing out a laugh of indifference.

“What?” You say in playful defense, “It’s just a question. You don’t have to answer it.”

Joel shakes his head fondly, though the bitter memories begin to flood back.

“I’m not your student anymore,” You point out, “it’s not like you’re breaking any rules by talking to me. It’s been…years, Joel. I think we’re both different people by now.”

Were you? That was entirely debatable.

“It’s been fine.” Joel gives you as little detail as possible, which is a telltale sign that he was masking, but you can’t ignore the way his eyes drag over your figure even if for a brief second.

You nod in response, not pushing the topic any longer.

“So, what’s this about?”

Joel makes a small noise in question and you tilt your head accusingly, lips pursed into a sneaky smile.

“I was on my way out,” You tell him, “now I’m here—with you. So, what’s the deal?”

“I wanted to catch up,” Joel admits–though it’s mostly a lie, “is that a crime?”

“Mmm, but here’s the problem,” You counter him, “you’re not really doing much talking. You ask some lame, basic question to cover up whatever excuse you had to get me in here. Seriously, Joel—what’s up?”

Joel sighs, chin touching his chest as he stares at the floor, “Still so goddamn stubborn.”

It’s like a trigger, soles patting against the ground as you approach him. His gaze pulls up slowly, first at your feet, then your chest, until he lands on your face. Delicate fingers press against his chest, his arms falling to his side as you press in closer and trace your fingers upwards, brush against his jawline.

You grin at the way Joel swallows tensley under your gaze, opposite hand wrapping into the length of his tie and pulling him into you, pressing your lips against his without another thought.

This kiss was new, different. Like pressing lips against a stranger with a renewed interest, not entwined in the throes of his divorce and a shitty marriage that kept him tied down and riddled with guilt, he kisses back with a force, boring conversation long forgotten.

Deft fingers turn the lock silently, a faint click of recognition as Joel leads you toward the empty stall with roaming hands, coat brushed down your shoulders and draped over a nearby hand dryer as he huddles you into the small space and watches as you pull away briefly to lock it with a giddy smile, lip pulled between your teeth as the lock slips into place and he stares at you openly, an unhinged hunger behind his eyes that he attempted to keep it bay so long ago.

“I have an idea.” Your voice is creeping suspicion in Joel’s mind and he sees your smile soften, an undertone in the wait as your fingers stretch along the expanse of his neck, leaning into him fully as he presses against the opposite wall of the stall, faces only a few millimeters apart as you breathe into him, noses brushing gently.

“That sounds like trouble.” Joel admits, your eyes dilating under his gaze as your excitement reaches your eyes, skin wrinkling slightly at the corners as you laugh.

“I don’t know,” You reply airily, “I think you’ll like this one.”

Joel’s game, eyebrows raised in question as you descend slowly—for anyone else, offering up a blowjob on the floor of a shoddy, questionable bathroom, you’d immediately decline and foremost, wouldn’t even offer. But, this was Joel. 

The Joel that, despite years of time between his company, still culminated at the forefront of your mind all of the sudden. Fleeting memories, things that threatened to remind you of him, a bitter afterthought. But now, it was sweet—tangible and finally within reach. You were seizing the opportunity to close things out, even if you knew you would never see him again.

And damn his months of unintentional abstinence, Joel is unbuckling his belt and unfastening his pants at an embarrassing speed with the assistance of your eager hands, instantly cradling your head as you wrestle with the few layers of fabric before his cock is heavy in your hands and hardening with even the minimalist of touch, his mouth hung open slightly as your tongue press flat against the underside of his cock, tracing along the jut of a vein that leads to his head, circling as you pull taut at his shaft and reacting openly to the tight squeeze he gives to your jaw, eyes falling shut with a gasp as he urges with silence for you to put him out of his misery and take his cock into your mouth.

Enough teasing. He knew you were both far beyond that.

There’s a lightness to your movements, inhibitions slightly skewed. You suck at his cock greedily, hollowing out your cheeks and allowing your hand to cover the length of his shaft that your mouth can’t reach and the hand that isn’t cradling your face is pressed against the stall door for leverage. There’s a crease in his forehead from how hard he’s scrunching his face up, willing himself to focus albeit how overwhelming you are in the moment and then you’re speaking to him, needy and soft.

“Look at me Joel,” You plead, tip brushing against your lips as you kiss the head and take him once more, bobbing your head slowly as he opens his eyes, and that familiar heat sets in his gaze, “there’s nothing to worry about this time—it’s just us.”

His hand is a soothing touch against your jaw, slowly trailing until his palm is cradling your head, “That’s—hm, that’s the problem. Don’t have much time.” Oh, right. This was his party after all.

“Riiiight,” You reply snarkily when you pull, feeling the gentle squeeze of his fingers against your neck as his hand settles there and rests, “guest of honor and all that, I suppose.”

Joel wasn’t letting you go that easy, though. He pushes you away gently and helps you rise to your feet, a slow progress of crowding you against the corner adjoining the stall door and the wall and his fingers slip under your skirt, digging into the supple skin of your thighs and he breathes, takes in your scent as he buries his face into your neck and he groans, so soft you almost don’t hear it. Almost.

 “You still like fucking college girls? Or was that a one time thing?” You tease, earning another less than gentle squeeze before his hand is traveling down your center and over the wet fabric of your panties, covered with your slick and you moan out—guilty, and he settles with pulling them to the side for quick access, dipping a finger inside of you and chuckling at how familiar it feels, walls squeezing around the digit and you huff, “Dirty old man, Mr. Miller.” 

“Just one. Annoying little brat that she is.” Joel admits, his stiff cock prodding at your thigh as he slips another finger inside of you, your grip tightening against the fabric stretched over his shoulders, head banging deftly against the surface behind you as you moan, “And just so we’re clear—don’t ever fucking call me that again.”

It never really fit him anyways.

“Got it.” You reply softly, staring at him half-lidded as his thumb brushes over your clit and he’s so close—right fucking there, dick pressed against your thigh but he won’t cross that line, not unless you ask. Luckily, you’re selfish even under a time crunch, “Joel—need it.”

“Need what, baby?” His breath is hot against your ear as he mouths at your skin sloppily, fingers leaving you empty as they rub collectively over your sensitive clit, “Such a beautiful way with words, let me hear you say it.”

“Fuck—” You breath rough, a sharp breath, “your cock, Joel. Want you inside of me.”

Fortunately, Joel’s never been more impatient as he pulls your thigh up and over his hip, his fingers holding the fabric of your panties to the side as he presses inside of you steadily, selfishly watching your reaction as he splits you open—a stark difference from the first time. He was disconnected, emotionless, trying to prove a point. But, this was so much more. 

It was everything he couldn’t say before.

“Stop—stop that,” You laugh softly, fingers gripping over the edge of the stall as he Joel fucks into you with sharp, precise thrusts. He was searching, determined that no time was wasted, but still admiring the catch of a gasp or moan in your throat every time he hit a particular spot inside of you that rendered you nearly speechless, “stop looking—at me like that.”

And Joel has the gull to smirk, lip pulling between his teeth as he angles you back and hikes your thigh up a fraction and that—oh, that was perfect and your grip slips and falls to his chest, wrinkling the fabric under your tight grasp as he leans in, lips pressed unmoving against your own as he thrusts into you wildly, the deafening sound of skin against skin and noises breathed into each other’s mouths.

“Touch yourself, baby,” He pleads and you thought the first time was a one off, a slip of the tongue in such a heated moment but it rings in your ears and warms your body with a faint buzz of adoration and allowed yourself to feel special and reserved only to him for that moment, “come with me?”

You reply with a shaky nod, feeling his hand guide yours between your bodies and settle over your cunt, rubbing over your clit in quick and determined circles as he spoke soft praises against your skin.

Good girl, sweet thing, look so pretty like this while you’re taking my cock.

And you’re hit with an immense rush of emotion as you come around him, his thrusts faltering in time with your cunt as you squeeze around him, “Fuck—I’m gonna come, gonna—” He pulls his hips back slightly but you’re reeling him back in with your heel, offering a small head shake.

Inside, you plead wordlessly.

It does him in—hand grazing over your breasts, tongue dipping into your mouth as he squeezes at the flesh and snaps his hips one last time, coming inside of you with a long, drawn out groan that precedes a long moment of silence as you both come down in synchronized breaths.

Joel hasn’t moved either, cock still buried inside of you but slowly softening.

“Work for me,” He says suddenly, head resting against the wall as he looks at you, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his fingers massaging the sore muscles in your thigh, “please?”

Your brow furrows tiredly, “What?”

“Come and work for me,” He asks once more, “I can offer you a job.”

“Joel, that’s—”

You whine softly at the loss of him as he slips out of you, but silently thankful for your achy muscles—and you think Joel will leave it at that, but he’s taking your face between his hands, urging you to look at him, “Look at me and tell me you’re happy there.”

You swallow a lump in your throat and look back at him, the words perched on your tongue.

You couldn’t lie to him. Not about this.

“I saw your name weeks ago—” Joel removes his hands and redresses slowly, watching as you adjust yourself to a more presentable manner, despite the feeling of his cum dampening your panties even more than they were before, “thought I was fuckin’ hallucinating.”

Still, you’re not sure where it’s coming from. Three years of silence and now this, his cum dripping down your legs and a proposition that sounds far too good to be true.

“I need an assistant,” He admits, “Someone to help me keep track of all this shit. Everyone I’ve hired, it just doesn’t stick.

You unlock the door behind your back and file out, watching Joel stuff his shirt back into his pants with a little too much force, shifting from heel to heel as he walks, “So, you’re desperate? And you thought fucking me would help your chances?”

You’re teasing him, but he doesn’t need to know that.

Immediately, his head snaps up, eyes full of concern that you misconstrued his intentions and he knows he’s fucked up again—again. He fucks up everything.

“I’m fucking with you.” You crack a gentle smile and his hammering heart slows.

“I need someone who won’t bullshit me about my writing,” Joel tells you, “real—honest feedback. Someone that knows me.”

Your hands fall behind your back, fingers interlocking as you step toward him again, playfully kicking your foot out at him, “So, the whole blind worship thing, kissing ass—it’s not for you? Because…that can be arranged too, I don’t mind.”

He says your name in warning and you pull back with a soft laugh, “I can give you a bigger picture tomorrow, after…all this. We can work things out. You can sign an official contract. I’m not trying to play you on this.”

And maybe history was repeating itself, something Joel refused to acknowledge.

“Isn’t that what got us into this mess?” You ask, allowing Joel to adjust the flap of your jacket over your chest as you slip it back onto your body, “Teacher…student…boss…”

You don’t have to fill in the rest. Joel’s pointer finger trails up the center of your chest, nudging at your chin and pulling your attention in, lips parted slightly.

“I can keep things professional,” Joel lies, “can you?”

You mouth a silent no as you shake your head and his thumb brushes your bottom lip.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to write a few stipulations into the agreement.”

“I never said I agreed,” You retorted playfully, “did I?”

“Suppose I’ve got a bit of convincing to do then,” Joel smirks, “—is your number still the same?”

You shrug innocently—of course it was and truthfully, Joel never had the thought to delete it. Letting it gather dust in his contacts, finger hovering over it from time to time. Wondering.

“You still have my email,” Joel laughs at that, barely, cracking a gentle smile, “send me the details—I’ll let you know if I’m interested.”

“And if there’s any way I can sweeten that interest—”

You lean in mockingly, eyes looking over his facial expression, clearly amused with himself as your nose brushes against each other and you speak into the quiet space between you both.

“Keep it in your pants, alright? I’ll consider it.”

Joel couldn’t let you slip through his fingers, not again.

But, you knew you were doomed from the moment he set eyes on you.

[maximumkillshot]

I Can't Lose You-Part 11

Warnings: Triggering memories of the miscarriage, Some is grabbing, shoving, graphic violent thoughts, Cursing, Bin Loses It, threats, Bin hurts himself unintentionally oh yeah and Han loses it too

Pairing: BangChan x Reader?

Characters: Bin, Soo 😒, Han, Stray Kids, Chan is mentioned quite a bit.

A/N: Happy Birthday @galamxy and I am so sorry to everyone in advanced. This one is gonna hurt, but... BUT I am letting you know ahead of time

I Can't Lose You Masterlist-CLICK HERE

Stray Kids Masterlist-CLICK HERE

ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT WHICH IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE. 

ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.

Previously: “He won’t… too much respect… I however,” I stated very matter-of-factly, “Have a very hard line, Soo. I don’t touch women in any violent way ever… But if anyone messes with my family and with whe people I love? All of a sudden gender is irrelevant… So the next time you speak, I recommend you speak with that in mind.” I saw the blood drain from her face, I felt a new level of base in my voice. The anger is starting to reach a level I can’t control.   Minho added on with “Usually I’d have too much respect. That was before what you said about Y/N.  About her losing the baby being a good thing. That it’d make the divorce less messy…” My eyes went wide as my heart dropped on the floor, shattered. When did this happen? How did this happen? I looked away from Soo for the first time, “I don’t think I heard you correctly… She said WHAT?” 

Now:

I can’t believe that this came out of her mouth. Given I never would’ve expected this type of behavior from her either but here we are. I looked at Minho’s face and I could tell he wasn’t lying. I looked at Hannie who was sitting on my opposite side and his face said the same. 

If I wasn’t sitting I would have probably collapsed. I went from a relaxed position to leaning forward, cracking my neck as I tried to contain my rage. I wiped my hands down my face, Changbin, calm down, I told myself. I went back to what Seungmin told me, “You promised her you were coming back.”  

I heard Hannie say… “Wait.”

When I looked at him, his mouth was open in utter disbelief, “You knew…” he said to Soo… When I looked back at Soo all I saw was a smile creeping onto her face, “You knew they were trying to conceive?! When Chan told you, there was no gasp of shock, no condolences… even now…  You’re smiling because you knew…”

Soo smiled saying, “How do you think Chris and I started talking in the first place? It was clear she was broken, now the outside matches the inside. Maybe this will be a warning for you.” She looked at me, “She’s damaged goods, don’t you want to know what it’s like to be a dad?” How dare she. I looked at Han as he stared daggers at her. Hannie is not known for becoming angry, but he looks enraged at what Soo just said. I looked back to Soo.

I looked into her eyes as I wondered what she meant by that. ‘She’s damaged goods, don’t you want to know what it’s like to be a dad?’ I’ve never been good at hiding my fondness for Angel, that’s for sure, but I don’t know where she’s getting at. Angel has only had eyes for Chan, her person… hurt my person.

 I don’t know why she would throw something like her fertility at me like it’s some deal breaker. It isn’t. I could live in a shack with nothing except Y/N and I would be the richest man on the planet. Children would be nice, but if it meant giving her up, I don’t need kids, I need her. This is all hypothetical of course.

I was sure she could feel the tension shift as I could feel my face contort from the rage, “So not only are you so fucking desperate that you’ll cheat with your best friend’s husband. Not only will you cheat knowing they were trying to conceive, but when they finally do conceive, after TWO YEARS you say that it was a good thing that child died because it would make the divorce less messy?!” I've never felt this level of rage. It was almost accusatory the way she threw Y/N’s fertility. Like because she didn’t get pregnant, that’s why they cheated. 

I am feeling so many levels of disdain, hurt, and disbelief. How could anyone say that about anyone else? It is unfathomable to me how someone could hurt someone else like this. How someone could think that let alone voice it. That takes it to a different level of disgust for me. 

Han sighed as he said, “And you sit there, almost blaming Y/N for your sins? For Chris’ sins? You don’t know anything about what she’s been through. Constantly waiting for Chris, him making her feel like an afterthought,” Han added on, “telling her he has no time for her, that he has more important things to do. One of us,” He pointed to himself and me, “One of us slept in the same bed as her every night because she’d cry to sleep on her own. You know what? We’d do it again. All of it. Because she is worth that and more.” I could feel Han vibrating with emotion. I can tell I’m not the only one that is feeling this. 

I tacked on, “Meanwhile he’s cheating with you,” I scoffed, “Talk about trading in a diamond for a piece of glass. You are the lowest of the low. She isn’t broken. You two are!” I took a breath, “I don’t know what to do with what you’ve done. I’m hurt and angry, and I’m not even the one who was cheated on!” I barked at her.  

The images of me doing things I didn’t want to do started flashing in my head. She isn’t a woman anymore, hell, she isn’t even a person. I could see myself grabbing it by the throat, picking it up, throwing it across the room, and punching, and screaming while I did it. Using its face as a punching bag. I can’t… As much as I want to, I can't.  A sinister, yet just voice playing right next to Seungmin's in my mind, It’s right there in front of you. You’re in pain, agony even… Take it out on one of the people that caused it. No one would blame you. Meanwhile, Seungmin’s voice is still playing, “Don’t make her lose you too.” 

I almost lunged out of my chair before I caught myself. Instead of getting up and doing what I wanted, I screamed, “HOW?! How did she find any humanity in you!? A child died, an innocent child who did nothing wrong…died. Gone, will never have the chance to breathe. Somehow, you view it as a good thing?! THEN YOU COME HERE!!” I could feel every cell in my body burning, trying to just reach across and… “ YOU COME HERE, TRYING TO ACT LIKE YOU’RE HER FRIEND?!”

I looked at her as I grabbed her shirt, I got up dragging her to her feet along with me, “You want to know what I’m thinking right now?” I smiled at her. This felt good. Seeing her realize just how much danger she is in. She thought I wouldn’t move. Like I said before, I don’t discriminate when it comes to protecting my own.

I could see the tears start to form in her eyes as I vaguely heard Han, “Hyung? Bin!”

“I am thinking about how easy it would be to turn your face into a fucking suggestion, make the outside match the inside. Disgusting, putrid, worthless, bloody… Han and Minho are strong, but not strong enough or fast enough to stop me from crushing your windpipe with one hand.” I grabbed the back of her neck, squeezing enough to make it known. 

She yelped as I continued, “It wouldn’t be hard for me. I lift twice your weight for fun.” I laughed, “No one’s here to save you. Especially not your shitty boyfriend… He’s nursing a broken nose at home…”

I felt her body tense, “I don’t want to stop at a broken nose for you…” I chuckled. “I want to send a message so badly. I want to put you in the ICU,” I seethed just inches from her face.“I was happy you stood away but now you DARE walk into here. Demanding to see her, after you say something so vile, so…”  

I could feel Han trying to loosen my grip, I was barely registering anything except her deer-in-the-headlights stare, “Now that you tried to come here when I wasn’t here, trying to capitalize,” I saw that same smirk playing at her lip. “I was going to let you go if I ever saw you again… Now..” I could feel my chest heaving as I said, “Now I want to make it clear to YOU and CHRIS… you come near her… I’ll kill you… I meant it when I said it to him, looks like he needs a reminder. You’ll have to pay for both sins.” She started yelping as I screamed, “SHUT YOUR MOUTH. You have no RIGHT, no SHAME…” I don’t recognize my voice, it’s so heavy, leering… They turned you into this. Show them. 

I heard Minho, “Changbin-ah I know…I want to hurt her too, I want it so badly but we can’t… We aren’t them, Bin.” I shrugged him off as I dragged her to the nearest wall and shoved her against it.

I threw my fist at the wall right next to her head. I felt it vibrate with the hit, “You have no idea what I want to do to you right now. It is taking everything in me not to destroy you.”  She was whimpering as she cried, trying to look away from me. “The pain that I want to put you through is nothing compared to what Y/N is going through. Look at you, a coward that can’t even look me in the eye. She is more than you could ever be.” 

I could feel myself wanting to pick my fist back up and land it on her face so badly. I have never wanted to hurt anyone, until now. The disrespect, the pain, and the absolute lack of empathy make me want to tear her apart. I have been holding in so much pain and agony for so long that I feel like I’m going crazy. I need someone to take it out on. Who better than one of the people who stabbed Y/N in the back? Who else is more deserving than one of the people who killed her child? This makes sense, call it karmic justice. Even breathing just thinking about it feels better. 

I can vaguely hear Hannie… Not like I really can hear much of anything aside from Soo’s pathetic whimpers. For someone so brazen to be this cowering mess, all for seeing me like this. I felt my features soften at that as I smirked at her, even chuckling slightly at the fact that for some reason she decided coming down here was a good idea. If anything this is Darwinism at work, right? A part of me thinks so, at the very least.

If I were to fully embrace this… the impending feeling I knew would cause goosebumps at the relief. Seungmin’s in my head again, “Y/N deserves everything we got.” This mental tug of war makes me feel like I am being torn in half, I just want to cause pain. I want Soo to hurt. I made my decision, Get your relief… It’s not a person…

As I went to shift my weight, I heard “Binnie?”.... Y/N?

I could hear her coming from a phone. That once melodic voice quaking. She was reaching for me. Begging me by only saying my name. My whole body froze, and my vision stopped narrowing, hearing her. “Binnie? Hannie, where's Binnie?” I heard her say again. She sounds so scared. I could tell she had been crying, she needed me. I can’t do this to her. 

I saw Han come into my peripheral, his phone in his hand.

“He’s right here Anya... Binnie’s right here.” Hannie’s voice is so stiff, he’s never afraid of me. I hate it when people are afraid of me. When my eyes flicked to Han I could see the fear. He put his hand on my arm that I was holding Soo’s shirt with. That touch helped me ground myself and see things from a different perspective.

“Why is Binnie not talking Hannie? Did I do something wrong?” I heard her, loud and clear as I tried to gain control of my body again. I wanted to scream,

“No, it’s not your fault, Angel. No, I am just… I’m hurting, Love. I’m hurting so fucking bad and I don’t know where to place it. I only ever went to Channie Hyung when I was in pain. I don’t know what to do knowing he was the one that caused it, Angel. He hurt you, I trusted him to take care of you, you’re my heart… When you cry, I cry; when you hurt, I hurt. You could never do something to warrant me not talking to you. You have never done anything wrong, I love you so much,” My mouth isn’t working as the memories flash. My chest wants to cave in.

“No nothing’s wrong, Anya. Binnie is just listening to your voice, is that okay?” Han asked so gently. How is he so gentle right now? The woman in front of me is one-half of the reason Y/N is here. She’s in my hands right now. The screams replay in my head as I look at Soo, If she knew she never would’ve come here, I’m lying to myself now as my grip tightens on her. 

“Yeah, is Binnie coming back? He promised he would,” I heard her ask. Of course, I’m coming back. She’s my home, how could I leave her? Especially like this. Soo isn’t worth it, and neither is Chan, but I want them to pay. I felt my hand throb against the wall. Feeling the texture as it stands against my fist take some of the haze away. Pleading to Y/N in my head, “I want them to pay, pleeease let me make them pay. Let me make sure they’ll stay away, Angel. I need to protect you, you’re the only part of me that matters.” “Hannie I want my Binnie I’m scared,” I heard her so clearly, I could even hear the sniffles that she would allow to escape every once in a while. I could feel myself at war with what I wanted and what was right. I want to kill Soo, but killing is wrong. So I was stuck there with the love of my life practically begging me to choose her over what I wanted to do. I was trying so hard to open my mouth and try to sound strong but I was three seconds from collapsing. I’m scared too, Angel. I’m terrified. I can’t lose you. I won’t survive it. I’m not me without you. 

“M’here Angel. I’ll..” my voice betrayed me. I cleared my throat, “I’ll be there in a minute. I’ll see you soon,” I felt tears brimming in my eyes as I looked at Soo. I could see the shock on her face, that has to be enough for me. 

At the end of it all, hurting Soo would do nothing. It won't get Y/N anywhere. The pain, the suffering, it's all still going to be there, only she'll have to face it all without me. I can't do that to her. It's not fair, what happened to her. I have to let Soo go, to protect my Angel. That is more than doable. 

Hannie hung up the phone and I looked at Soo as I said, “You aren’t worth any ounce of effort anyone puts towards you. You are a nerveless little leech that sucked the life and kindness out of someone I love very much. You tell Chris what you saw here today. You tell him every detail… Especially this… If you or Chris ever try to come near her uninvited… I will not be this kind again… Do you understand me?”

She nodded violently as I released my grasp on her shirt, instead shoving her by her shoulder to Han, almost knocking both of them down in the process as I said, “Han, get her out of here before I change my mind.” I faced the wall as I tried to breathe. I have never wanted to kill someone more than just now. I’m scared, relieved, and also guilty. 

Just the fact that I was so close to possibly losing Y/N again while I was gone, shot through me like lightning in that car. Now I’m here and the threat’s gone. The original one is. That was relieving, but now I am so guilty.

If Y/N saw me like this, she would’ve been disappointed. Is that the kind of man I am? 

As soon as I register the door closing my knees hit the concrete and I’m blinded by my tears. Who am I? Soo was so scared… and I liked it? I wanted more of it. I wanted her to feel the fear Y/N felt. The pain she feels. Y/N would never want that for anyone. I almost caused her more pain. For what? To satiate my own need? 

“What kind of man am I?” I asked no one in particular as I felt the rage ebbing into whispers, staring at my hands, one already developing bruises from how hard I punched the wall, the other aching from how tight my grip was on Soo’s shirt. An image flashed of when Y/N went limp in my arms, her screams louder than the last time. My shoulders shook with the sobs that left me then. 

I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder as I heard Minho speaking softly, “You are the type of man that would do anything for the woman he loves. You’re the type that takes her pain as your own.”

I turned to Minho and said, “Hyung, I don’t know what to do. I can’t take it away.” my tears started running down my face. All I heard was Minho saying, ‘I got you’ and I let go collapsing on him. 

Minho said right into my ear, “You are a loving, caring person, Changbin. You trusted a person with your own heart and they destroyed it. It’s natural to want blood, Bin. You just proved to yourself that love is more important than revenge. You, Seo Changbin, are the type of man that is rarest of all.” I continued to cry as I held onto Minho, “You are unapologetically you. You live with your heart on your sleeve and you give without asking for anything.” “I can hear it all… Every time I hear her screams, I feel her go limp in my arms, I see the blood,” I gulped in the air, “I wa-want to make it better, Hyung. Why can’t I take it from her?” I asked.

I felt Minho quivering as he sniffled himself, “No one can, I’m sorry Changbin-ah.” I knew that answer. Logically I knew it. “But what you can do..” I looked at him, “You can show her, that loving a person is unconditional. It is as simple as breathing. You show her, that no matter what she can or can’t give you, you’ll be there. Not because you have to, but because you want to.”

I nodded as I tried to stop the tears with Minho saying periodically, “Take your time… Breathe, you’re okay. You’re good.” I was mumbling to myself how I couldn’t believe I thought what I thought and he responded with, “Don’t go there. I’m proud of you for stopping and thinking. That’s what matters.”I wasn’t sure how much time had passed as I heard Minho say, “Let me see your hand.”

I showed it to him. I could see the black and blue forming on my knuckles. When he asked me to make a fist, it was a little painful but not that bad. He smiled as he said “Good news, nothing looks broken… the bad news is there is no way you’re going to be able to hide it from Y/N. So what’s the plan Changbin, any ideas?” His eyebrows went up in question. 

“I’m not going to lie to her, Minho. I can’t.” I said plainly. She is already so fragile and lying wouldn’t help that. I also can’t tell her that I lost it and almost hurt Soo. Given, I was mad, but still. I don’t know. 

His eyebrows furrowed as he smirked, “You know sometimes you’re a little too chilverous.” I just grinned as he continued, “Alright I guess I’ll have to explain it… As far as I’m concerned you slammed your hand in the car door when you were trying to get back here. Sound good?” I nod. 

I heard Minho’s phone go off and I saw Lix’s face on the screen, “one guess” he giggles. He picked it up and put it on speaker.

“MinMin where’s my Binnie?” I heard Y/N loud and clear through the phone. She sounds a little better, I could hear the tease in it. “We were just wrapping up here Beautiful, everything okay?” He asked, smiling at me. 

“Yeah, just Inn-ah trying to eat the last brownie I’m saving for Binnie.” She giggled. My heart swelled. She was saving it for me? I haven’t had one of those in… almost a year now that I think about it.

I heard Inn-ah in the background, “Just a nibble, Y/N?” 

She giggled as she said, “Binnie hasn’t had one in a while Innie, and you live with the guy that makes them.” She laughed. She’s thinking about me? After all of this. She’s focused on me?? I think Minho could see the confusion as he looked at me.

I giggled as I said, “What about the bag of snacks we brought for the boys Seungmin?” I heard Seungmin’s voice loud and clear, “They picked it clean, vultures… I’m surprised the bag’s still there.” I heard Y/N laugh slightly louder. It melted me to my core as I laughed.

I heard Hyunjin say, “Says the one who had a whole pan of brownie to himself. I don’t mind eating clean but had I known I would’ve fought you for that pan, Seungmin.” I could see Hyunjin’s face in my head glaring at Seungmin. 

I laughed as I said, “OK Angel we are on our way. Sorry, it took so long.” I smirked at the phone, I couldn’t wait to see her. I always get this swell in my heart that spreads to all of me when I see her. 

“It’s okay. As long as you’re coming back that’s all I care about.” She giggled. Minho hung up and said, “What happened in this room, stays in this room.” I think he could tell that I was embarrassed about my breakdown. I’m used to being the person that people go to for support. I am rarely the one to need the support. This was Minho’s way of saying my breakdown stays with him. I patted him on the back, silently thanking him. 

When we walked out into the hallway I could see Hannie waiting by the door. Minho motioned for Hannie to come towards us. When he met us Minho whispered, “Follow my lead.” With that we walked back to the room together, Minho leading. When Minho went in he explained the hand injury away, “First thing’s first Beautiful. You’ll notice that Binnie’s hand is bruised, it was an accident, he’s fine and it’s not broken, okay?” He looked relieved as he motioned for me to come in.

When I came in I was met with a gentle smile from her. At that moment I realized something. Soo never told me why she was here. I know why she’s here. Chan was banking on me losing it, seeing her. He was banking on me getting myself arrested or at the very least kicked out so that I would be ripped away from Angel’s side. I smiled wider knowing that not only did I keep my cool, but this experience that he caused just made me want to stick closer to her. 

Every time it feels like the first time I see her. Always takes my breath away. Even in a hospital gown, chocolate remnants on her face. I smiled at her, “Hi, Angel, sorry it took a bit. You have something for me?” I asked as I went to sit in a chair. 

She looked at me with furrowed brows, “I want my Binnie cuddles,” She said as she reached out for me. How could I deny that? I saw Seungmin get up and walk to a chair, sitting down. 

I smiled at her as I nestled up to her in the hospital bed. She smiled as she handed me the last piece of brownie, “It’s the corner piece, your favorite.” 

She looked up at me and wiped a tear from my face, when did I start crying again? “Why are you crying, Binnie?” 

I answered honestly, “I’m so happy to see you giggling and seeing you save this for me. I’m just lucky to know you, let alone be a part of your life.” I dried a tear from her too as I smiled. 

She buried her face into my side as she giggled. That made everyone in the room break out in smiles. The rest of the night was passed in smiles and laughs until eventually, Y/N started yawning. I looked at her trying to fight the sleep until I guided her head to my chest again. She was sleeping before I could even notice. One by one, everyone was asleep except for me. Seeing everyone asleep. I permitted myself to pass out for the night too, and before I knew it, I was out like a light myself. 

_______________________________________________________

WANT MORE? Tell me So! Want in on the tags? Shoot me an ask and consider it done!

[redrose10]

This is #1 from the picture game!

Warnings: Depression, talks of cheating, mentions of therapy and taking medication, body insecurities after pregnancy, divorce, swearing, mentions of sex, lots of crying

You nervously bounced your leg as you waited for your new boss to come greet you. It had been several years since you last changed jobs but lately your life had been all out of sorts so you figured why not. You were in the process of a messy divorce from your husband. You had moved into your own apartment. You had decided to go back to school to finish your degree that you had put on hold when your daughter was born.

So it seemed like the perfect choice when you found out that the college you were attending was doing a group hire of about eight different assistants to work with various professors. They didn’t tell you which ones or what departments and you didn’t really care. The pay was surprisingly decent and there were benefits. The hours were good and it also got you some extra credits on top of it.

When you arrived today you were told to head to the literature department. Your soon to be ex husband was a literature professor at a college a few cities over so the sound of that made your mouth sour. Hopefully this professor wasn’t as much of a jerk as your ex you hoped.

It’s funny how life turns out sometimes you thought as you watched your soon to be ex Yoongi walk down the hall to greet you. You cursed yourself for thinking he still looked as good as ever with his black rimmed glasses and his fitted turtleneck sweater.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw you, “Nope, we’re not doing this here Y/N. It’s my first day and I don’t need you embarrassing me.”

“Me embarrass you? I’m not the one who left you sitting alone at a restaurant for two hours on our anniversary while I was “with a friend”.”, you spat.

“Y/N, she was a friend. A very married and very gay friend which you would’ve known had you given me the opportunity to explain before biting my head off.”

“Okay and that doesn’t change the fact that you forgot our anniversary.”, you scoffed.

“Why are you here? Come to take more of my money?”, he said changing the subject.

“Mo-More of your money?! I haven’t taken any of your money. I only want you to provide half for Mae. That’s it. It’s all in the papers or are you too busy with your friend to even read those?”, you questioned.

“How is she by the way?”, he asked immediately softening at the mention of his daughter, “C-Can I see her this weekend?”

You nodded, “Of course Yoongi. You know I’ll never stop you. She misses you.”

Yoongi had always been an amazing father. It was one of the few things that kept you in the marriage for as long as you stayed.

“Why are you here Y/N?”, he asked again.

“I got a job as an assistant to one of the professors. They sent me to this department.”

Yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose, “Oh for fucks sake. This can’t be happening.”

“Why are you here?”, you also questioned.

“They offered me a tenured position at this school. And part of that offer included my own assistant.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you changed jobs?”

He scoffed, “I also changed which brand of toothpaste I use. Should I tell you that too?”

You hated how cold and mean he had become towards you. You missed the comforting, warm and welcoming man that you had married.

“The brand of toothpaste you use doesn’t possibly affect our daughter Yoongi. What if something happened to her and I thought you still worked at your old job? I need to know things like this.”

He nodded, “You’re right. I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. You didn’t tell me that you got a new job either by the way.”

He was right. You nodded, “I’m sorry. There’s just a lot going on and I was overwhelmed as it is.”

“Do you need more money?”

“What?! No I don’t need more money. I can take care of myself just fine.”

“Alright alright. I just wanted to make sure.”, he rolled his eyes

“Well maybe I can ask them to switch my department or something.”, you said.

“No it’s fine. We’re both adults. We need to learn to co-parent anyways so this can be good practice.”

You were skeptical but agreed.

Yoongi’s office was much brighter and warmer than you expected. A large oak desk covered in books and papers. A photo of him holding Mae the day she was born was hanging on the wall. It was the biggest you’d ever seen him smile and no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen a smile like that on him.

“Since it’s the first day of class I don’t really have much for you to do. Can you please just take all of the papers for the syllabus and put them in order and staple them? That would really help me.”

“Sure.”, you nodded and got to work.

Working for your soon to be ex was easier than you thought. Sure you both argued and took little jabs at each other here and there but for the most part he’d give you a list of things to do for the day and you’d just go about your day doing them. You two were almost being friendly with each other again.

He’d bring you a coffee that they “accidentally” gave him for free and it just happened to be your favorite kind and you’d always happen to bring way too much food for your lunch so you’d offer to share it with him. Things seemed nice for once in a long time.

On a Wednesday afternoon he was at some big faculty meeting. He’d asked you to edit a paper he was working on so you were sat at his desk reading through it.

There was a quick knock at the door before a woman appeared. “Hope you’re hungry Yoongi. I got your favor-Oh! I’m sorry. I was expecting Professor Min to be here.”, she said startled by your presence.

“He’s in a meeting. He should be back shortly.”, you faked politeness.

You also took a notice of her appearance. Something you’d been doing a lot lately anytime you were around another woman. She was definitely younger than you and Yoongi. Long perfectly toned legs, no tummy pouch. She probably had perfect skin without stretch marks. She was gorgeous and everything you felt you weren’t.

She smiled, “You look really familiar.”

“Well I take some classes here so maybe you’ve seen me in one of those.”

“No no that’s not it. I’ve seen you in a photo…Oh! Your Professor Mins wife or soon to be ex wife I should say.”, she chuckled, “He used to have a picture of you on his desk.”

Hearing that he “used to” hurt pretty bad but what could you expect of him at this point honestly.

“I’m sorry how do you know Professor Min? I can take a message and let him know you stopped by.”, you said grabbing a pen.

“He was my Professor over at SNU. We got pretty close there. Then I transferred over here and now he’s here too”, she giggled again, “I guess he missed me too much. Just tell him Mia stopped by. He’ll know.”

“I’ll get right on that.”, you rolled your eyes as she turned and walked away.

After she left you felt a wave of emotions hit you. The realization that your marriage was over and probably had been over much longer for Yoongi than it had been for you making your eyes brim with tears. You started to dig around in Yoongi’s desk looking for some tissues when you saw it. Flipped over and tucked away in the bottom drawer was a picture of you and Yoongi. You were looking up at the camera while he had his arms around your waist and his cheek resting on the top of your head as he smiled. It was taken minutes before he got down on one knee and asked you to spend the rest of your life with him. Now this precious moment that you thought you’d both cherish forever was shoved in the bottom of a desk drawer. That only made you cry harder and you were thankful that you found the tissues.

You had just gotten yourself mostly composed when Yoongi got back from his meeting.

“I’m sorry that took longer than expected. How did the editing go?”

He looked at you. You knew you couldn’t get one by him. He’d always been able to tell when you were crying.

“Y/N what’s wrong?”

“Nothing don’t worry about it?”

“You’re crying. Something happened.”

“Nothing happened. Can you just leave me alone?”, you hissed.

He sighed, “Why do you always push me away? For once can you just stop trying to be tough and tell me what’s wrong.”

“No Yoongi, I can’t stop being tough because I’ve spent so long having to be tough so that you can’t hurt me any more.”

He ran his tongue over his slightly parted lips.

You grabbed your bag and tossed it over your shoulder, “The paper looks good so far. I’m going to get lunch.”

You turned to look at him but he was staring at the ground, “Oh and by the way, Mia stopped by.”

You left letting the door slam behind you.

Yoongi texted you to take a longer lunch than normal. Whether he felt bad for you or didn’t want to deal with you or maybe he had invited Mia to his office and had other plans, you didn’t care. You needed the extra time and were glad to take it.

When you did return back to his office Yoongi was sitting at his desk going over something on his computer. Without a word you walked over and took a seat on the couch pulling out some paperwork that still needed to be reviewed.

“I have never been unfaithful to you Y/N. I know that’s what you’re thinking. I would never do that to you no matter what is going on between us.”

“Then who is she?”, you asked between sobs that came out of nowhere.

“She’s just an over zealous student that I tutored last semester and part of the reason I left SNU. She wasn’t taking no for an answer. I didn’t want to get her expelled and I got a better job offer so I just left. She must’ve heard that I transferred here from someone. I’ll talk to security and let them know not to allow her on campus. I swear to you Y/N there’s absolutely nothing going on between me and her…or anyone else.”

You heard him sigh as he watched you continued to cry.

“How did we get to this point?”, he said running his hands over his face. You had an idea but couldn’t do any more than cry a little harder.

Then he suddenly left his desk and came over next to you on the couch. “I have an idea. Do you trust me?”, he asked.

You only nodded knowing your voice would sound too rough.

“Okay hold this pen.”, he said taking one out of his suit pocket and gently placing it in your hands, “Whoever has this pen gets to speak their mind and say anything that they want to and the other person can’t interrupt or speak until they have the pen. I think we need to sit down and talk about things like adults, without our emotions causing us to act out.”

You stared at the pen for a moment then you looked at Yoongi. He was silent but you could see it in his eyes that he was scared.

After taking a minute to compose yourself you took another look at him before speaking.

“For me it started a few months after Mae was born. I hated my new body, the way I looked. I mean I was proud of what I had done and I wouldn’t have changed anything but it was hard Yoongi. I gained weight, I have a little belly pouch and stretch marks, my boobs are saggy and uneven. I felt so gross and unattractive.

And then I noticed you were getting distant. You didn’t touch me as much, you stopped trying to get little peaks of me changing or getting out of the shower. We’ve had sex like twice since Mae was born and both times I could tell you weren’t really into it. I thought you weren’t attracted to me any more either.”

You paused to take a look at him. He was delicately looking at you, biting his lip. You knew he was trying his hardest not to interrupt you.

So you continued, “Then one day I thought I’d surprise you. I bought a new lingerie set and dropped Mae off at my parents. I showered and shaved and moisturized like it was going to fix everything. I added a little of the perfume you always liked and then when I knew you were laying on the bed I walked out of the bathroom. I dropped my robe and said your name in the most sultry way I could. And..and you didn’t even look at me Yoongi.”, your voice cracked. It was harder to talk about this than you had thought but you composed yourself again, “And I wish I would’ve just turned around and went back into the bathroom because when you finally did look at me you didn’t react. You didn’t tell me I looked good, you didnt pull me towards the bed like you used to, you didn’t even smile. You just stared at me like you were disgusted. Yoongi do you know how much that hurt me? What that did to my confidence?To realize that I couldn’t even get your attention after putting in that much effort. I felt like an idiot. I wanted to talk then but you said you had to make a phone call and left the room. So I changed back into my pajamas and went to bed.”

You clicked the pen a few times trying to ground yourself. Yoongi was still patiently sitting next to you.

“Then our anniversary came up. I wanted to give us one more chance. I got a new dress that I felt really good in. Booked a reservation at your favorite restaurant. I reminded you that morning. And you didn’t show up. Yoongi I sat there for two hours…two hours like an idiot waiting on the love of my life for nothing. You texted me that you were out with someone else so I figured you’d already found someone you were more attracted to and accepted it. I paid for my drinks and went home. The next day I called the divorce lawyer. And…and here we are.”

Once you had finished you had to admit it felt pretty good getting all of that off your chest. It was all things that you had said to him in your head many times but never had the guts to say to him in person.

When you realized he still hadn’t said anything you took the pen and placed it in his hands. The rough callouses giving you goosebumps.

Yoongi took a deep breath to prepare himself for his turn.

“Y/N, I am so incredibly sorry that I ever made you doubt yourself. From the minute I saw you I thought you were the most beautiful being ever and that has never changed. If anything you’ve only gotten more attractive to me. The thing is…is that I’m depressed. I have been for a while. It started just before Mae was born and got worse afterwards. I should’ve told you but I was embarrassed and I felt guilty. I mean I’m married to the woman I love more than anything and we have a beautiful little girl who’s healthy and happy and I have a great job that I love so I felt like I had no reason to be depressed and I was angry with myself for feeling that way. And then…”

He took another long deep breath, “And then after Mae was born I knew I had to get better for both of you. So I saw a psychiatrist and was put on depression medication and started seeing a therapist too. And it was helping. I started feeling better. But the medication, it…it has certain side effects. So while any time my eyes and brain saw you they wanted one thing, the rest of my body didn’t want to cooperate.”

He looked at you apprehensively to see if you were understanding where he was going with that and you did so you gave him a little nod.

“That night I knew you had something planned. I accidentally saw the bag from the lingerie store in the closet and then Mae was gone and you were taking an extra long time in the shower. I put it all together and I knew you wanted to have sex and I panicked. I started thinking about anything I could to try and force it to happen. That camping trip in the woods, our wedding night, that night Mae was conceived.”, he said with a wiggle of his eyebrows making you giggle for the first time in what felt like forever, “But none of it was working. And then I looked at you. I stared because I wanted to burn that image into my brain forever. You looked so gorgeous, sexy, incredible. I felt like the luckiest man alive. And then I realized that I was just going to disappoint you and make you feel insecure because I knew you’d think it was because of you. So I panicked again and left to go call my therapist. Looking back I should’ve just told you everything from the start.”

He adjusted himself on the couch to get comfortable again before going on, “And then I knew our anniversary was coming up so I stopped taking my medication for a little. I wanted to be able to make it up to you and show you how much I loved you and make you feel as incredible as you make me feel. I thought I’d be okay but it’s like the depression hit me harder than before. I was worried and called my therapist so she gave me an emergency appointment. I’m so sorry Y/N. We were talking through things and it took longer than I thought and then I had to get my prescription refilled and by the time it was over you had already left the restaurant. I knew when I got home that you were going to call the lawyer. I didn’t blame you so I didnt try to stop you.”

He stopped to remove his glasses and wipe away some tears. In all the years you’ve known him you’ve only ever seen him cry twice before. Once when his grandmother had passed away and the day Mae was born. To see him sit here in front of you and cry as if he had nothing else to loose really pulled at your heart strings.

You went to speak but realized he still had the pen. It appeared he wasn’t done anyways because he grabbed your hand and squeezed it tight, “I’m sorry I failed you not only as a lover but also as a husband and a friend. I never meant to make you feel that way. Just know that when this is all over and you’re no longer tied to me that no one will ever love you as deeply and as strongly as I always will. I will always be here for you and Mae. No matter what. I’m sorry I’ve hurt you so many times. I wish I could take it all back and take on the hurt instead.”

Through your own blurry vision you looked over his tear stained cheeks and red nose before taking the pen in his hand and tossing it aside. Tightly you wrapped your arms around his neck and connected your lips to his, “I’m sorry too Yoongi. I should’ve just talked to you and let you know how I felt instead of being stubborn and expecting you to fix it. I’m sorry you’ve been struggling so much and I wish you would’ve told me. I want to take the pain from you. I love you so much and I don’t want to get divorced. I just wanted you to hurt too just like I was but I didn’t know you were already hurting so badly in other ways. But I love you so much. I’m so sorry.”

By this point you were ugly crying and didn’t even care. You were sure you looked like a red, snot covered mess but when you actually took the time to look at Yoongi you could see the love he had for you even in that moment.

“It’s okay Y/N…Everything will be okay, everything will be okay, everything will be okay…”, he repeated a few more times while stroking your hair until you had finally started to calm down a little.

“So what do we do now?”, you sniffled.

“Well we can take it slow if you want. We have to think about Mae in all of this too and we don’t want to confuse her. Maybe slowly start moving back home and spending more and more time together as a family. And uh maybe you could come to one of my therapy sessions with me, if you want to. I know she’d love to meet you and we can talk there and go over anything else we need too. And when you’re ready we can meet with the lawyer again and take care of that.”

You smiled, “Okay that sounds nice.”

You leaned into him resting your head on his shoulder while you played with his fingers. Just from the pinkness of his hands you could tell he was blushing.

“Umm and maybe you could come over one day and you could bring that lingerie set with you and maybe…maybe we could try.”, he said nervously rubbing his hand over the back of his neck.

Gently you stopped him taking his hand in yours, “Of course we can try. I know it may not happen but we’ll work through it together.”

He breathed a sigh of relief before pulling you over for a kiss, “I love you Mrs. Min Yoongi.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

And surprise…Here is a bonus little smutty side story that goes with it. I wrote it as a separate story because I don’t usually include smut in my writings and I didn’t want to blindside anyone that may like reading what I post but isn’t comfortable reading smut. This way you can just read this main fic or you can read both if you’d like.

I’m not going to become a smut account or anything. I’ve just had a similar idea for a while and I felt like it fit this situation. I’ve been really nervous to post it but wanted to try it out.

[sugarpopss]

Late Call

We're back Lee girlies I'm back on my corrupt sheriff shit. This so SO inspired by the lore for Lee and his post divorce with Flo girlypop written in the chat by yours truly and @bucknastysbabe and also I've had this google doc just...open in my tabs for ages. Here's the post for the dead motel I took the Plaza Lodge from.

fem!reader

Lee rarely responded to late night calls himself. One of the perks of being the sheriff-he got to go home at 7:30 and leave all of the idiots underneath him to deal with noise complaints and bar fights. Even if all Lee did with his free evenings was park his ass on the sofa and fill up with TV dinners and sodapop and packaged cookies, watch ‘I’ve Got a Secret’ and tug on his cock-it was still better than responding to hillbillies domestic disputes. 

It wasn’t uncommon to get calls from the apartment block his sister Sandy lived in, either. About ten years ago-when Lee had been a fresh-faced deputy with a wife and a plan and pants that fit-the building had been a motor lodge. Not a particularly nice one, but a functioning motor lodge nonetheless. The place hadn’t really started going downhill until they’d converted it into apartments. What did anyone expect? The rent was cheap, the building itself ill-maintained, and several of the residents seemed determined to make their units a welcoming home for all manner of pests. 

Units like Sandys. Christ, it made Lees eye twitch just thinking about the mess of her place. However much of the mess was his sisters and how much of it was the fault of her stinking pig of a husband was still up in the air. All of that to say-Lee wasn’t usually perturbed by calls from the apartment block. They were rarely a big deal. 

Despite knowing all of that-save the bits about Lee stuffing his face and jerking it to Bess Myerson-Willis still felt the need to call Lee up at nearly 11 o’ clock at night. Lee had been tempted to just not pick up the phone, but, well…he was the sheriff. He had certain responsibilities. Even if just hearing a voice from the station while he was at home made him want to groan. 

“I’m, uh, I’m sorry to bother you so late, Lee-” 

Really, everyone was meant to be calling him ‘Sheriff Bodecker’, but Lee wasn’t going to fight that battle at 11 at night. 

“You got a reason for buggin’ me like this? I don’t wanna spend my night chattin’ with you.” Maybe Lee was a little grumpy about being shaken out of his post-orgasm food coma. Maybe Lee was a little grumpy most of the time. 

“It’s just that a call came in from the Plaza Lodge, and I know that your sister lives down there , so I thought-” 

Lee didn’t even let the dispatcher finish. He was already annoyed that he’d had to haul himself up to answer the phone, and the movement had made the fullness of his stomach shift from ‘pleasantly full’ to ‘tight and queasy.. “I don’t need to go down there every time someone hears a goddamn bump. It’s a shithole. People call the police. Handle it.” 

“I know that, Lee, it’s just…” Willis was trying hard to justify the call. Pissing Lee off usually meant spending a shift out patrolling the county line, looking at skinny cattle and rusted out cars. “Well, the caller reported gunshots, and they said a woman was gettin’ all worked up and hysterical, so I thought maybe you’d want to know about it.” 

Alright, that did make a little knot of anxiety form in Lees chest. As tangled up and messy as his relationship with Sandy was, she was still his baby sister. If something was awfully wrong, he oughta be there. A sick, shameful part him-though not really that shameful-hoped that fucker Carl had finally put his hands on her; slapped her around or pushed her down the outdoor stairs. Something that wouldn’t hurt Sandy too badly, but would still let Lee finally get the son-of-a-bitch in handcuffs. Or even better-gunshots, agitated woman-Sandy had just snapped and shot Carl. Now that would be something worth getting up to see. 

With that in mind, Lee hung up on Willis while he was still talking and set to getting dressed and moving, and if he grabbed two Pepsis to drink on the way, that was his business. It was late, he needed the sugar to perk him up. 

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

When Lee pulled up to what used to be the Plaza Motor Lodge, he was greeted with both disappointment and relief. There was only one cruiser in the parking lot, and the whole place was pretty quiet; just a couple of people standing out on their porches, smoking or sipping from chipped mugs, trying to look like they weren’t attempting to nose in on their neighbors. That at least ruled out Carl having gotten a bullet in his ugly forehead.  Considering that Sandys apartment was one of the dark ones, the bastard was likely actually warm and cozy in his bed-which Lee had no doubt was riddled with bed bugs. What a shame. 

The door to a ground floor unit was open, however, so that was likely where the problem was. He could’ve just gone home right then. But he was already there, and unexplained gunshots were pretty unusual in Meade. People out in the holler loved to fire shots off at all hours of the night for reasons only Jesus knew, but Lee liked to think that the center of the county was a little more civilized. 

He rapped his knuckles on the doorframe, but didn’t wait to be invited in-just did it to let the people inside know he was there. Deputy Howser was sat on the sofa, a notepad balanced on his knee. The other person-presumably the apartments tennant-was pacing the short distance between the front door and the kitchenette. Agitated? Definitely. Hysterical? Yet to be seen. 

“Sheriff Bodecker!” Howser didn’t stand to greet him, but did pat the spot on the sofa next to himself. “You’re gonna want to hear this, Sheriff. Pretty lady’s got a real story for you, huh?” 

The apartments tenant paused in her pacing to whirl on Howser like a jungle cat. “How about you try taking me fucking seriously?!” 

Lee sort of thought steam was going to start coming out of her ears. 

“I’m not the one shooting at ghosts, miss.” Howser said, raising his hands in mock surrender. 

Lee stepped farther into the room. For all of the shit he’d done as sheriff, he was pretty good at the actual minutiae of police work. He’d defused more fights and talked down more angry and panicked people than he could count. 

“Take it easy, sweetheart.” He said in his best ‘everything is okay, miss’ voice. “I know you-”

“I’m not your fucking sweetheart!”

The woman had whipped her head to him the moment it left his mouth. There were mascara tear tracks streaking her cheeks, but she didn’t look sad or scared, just pissed to hell. 

She kept going. 

“If one of y’all would just listen to me for one goddamn minute I could explain!” 

Lee sighed and sat down on the sofa. The deputy nudged him, smirking, and Lee realized that the idiot was going to be extraordinarily unhelpful in sorting this out. 

“Get out of here.” Lee told him. Howser didn’t even question it, likely glad to have one more thing cut from his night shift. Back to the station to sit around and drink burnt coffee with his finger up his ass, most likely. 

Once the deputy had gotten his skinny ass out of there, Lee leaned forward, elbows on his knees-ignoring how that position made his gut roll against his belt. He had bigger fish to fry. 

“Listen, miss.” He began. “I can see you’re pretty worked up, that’s no good. How about you take a breath n’ sit down n’ tell me what’s going on. I hear you were shooting at something?”

She held back for a few moments, then seemed to accept that Lee was the best she was going to get and sat down. With the woman on one end of the sofa and Lee on the other, she told the sheriff what had happened. 

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

She wasn’t shooting at ghosts. Lee had figured as much from the start, but it was nice to have confirmation. What she had been shooting at-or rather, what she had shot at, as there had, in reality, only been one bullet fired-was a man. According to her, a man she worked with in one of the shabby little offices in the center of town had been following her home for a couple of days. She had looked through the front window and seen his car lingering in the parking lot, pulling up in front of her unit then pulling out again and looping the lot. So she’d gone into the mostly empty parking lot and fired once, just to scare him. “Just so he knew I had a gun.” she’d said. 

Lee scrubbed a hand over his face when she finished the story. Some men just didn’t know how to handle rejection. Not including Lee, of course. Why, he’d never been rejected by a woman! Not that he was pursuing many these days, after the whole mess of the divorce with Flo, but still. 

“I’m not gonna arrest you for being scared.” He said. He wasn’t. If he had really wanted to, he probably could’ve gotten her for disturbing the peace or unlawfully discharging a firearm, but he didn’t really want to. He’d let worse things slide than a pretty young woman taking her safety into her own hands. 

“What if I had someone stop by here on patrol tomorrow night? Stick around the parking lot for a bit, make sure no one who shouldn't be there is hanging around.” 

She looked away from him, worked her hands in her lap. A lot of the furious indignation in her had faded away, replaced by exhaustion and anxiety. 

“What about tonight?” She asked. 

A reasonable question, but one that had Lee sighing and falling back against the couch cushions. “Jesus Christ, miss.” 

What about that night? Sure, Lee could call Howser back up and have him watch for a bit, but the dumbass would probably just upset the lady again. And Lee was already there-now that he had been up and moving for a bit, the queasiness from earlier had pretty much abated. He wasn’t even feeling particularly tired. 

“I’ll stay for a while.” 

“Really?” She didn’t demure or simper about the big strong sheriff not needing to waste his time on a little thing like her-although it would’ve done wonders for his ego. She just raised her eyebrows, a bit bewildered but pretty accepting. 

Lee nodded, then pushed off his knees and stood. Sure, he’d stick around for a bit. He could finish the half a Pepsi sitting in his cruiser and make sure no one sketchy was hanging around. Well, as far as it pertained to this lady and her problem-if they went and hauled out every creep and scumbag from the Plaza Lodge Apartments they’d have half the tenants, Sandy and her no-good cradle snatcher of a husband included. 

“I’m already here. God knows there’s enough to keep an eye on around here.” 

That got a smile out of her, albeit a small one. If he had been about ten years younger, didn’t have an ex-wife with some truly awful stories about him, and his belt wasn’t biting into his lower belly something awful, Lee would’ve been thinking she was real pretty when she smiled. Even when she’d been snapping at Deputy Howser like a rabid dog, she wasn’t bad looking-just upset. 

“I…I really appreciate that, Sheriff Bodecker.” 

Oh, if Lee didn’t just love the sound of that! ‘Sheriff Bodecker’ said with respect like that was music to his ears. If only everyone referred to him like that, instead of ‘Lee’ this and ‘Lee’ that. 

“ ‘S no trouble. I’m used to late nights.” 

Lee didn’t even know he was trying to impress her until it came out of his mouth. It was a bit juvenile, sure, but the little smile didn’t drop from her face. And he was being truthful! Lee was used to late nights-it was just that he was usually meeting with Leroy or carrying out some of that chickenshit bastards pseudo-mafia business. Lee’s preference was to have his belly full, balls empty and ass in bed by 10pm. 

She cocked her head a little, which made her modern bubble hairstyle bob. Flo had wanted to get a haircut like that a couple of years ago, when it just started to show up in the fashion magazines that filtered in from Cincinnati, and Lee had told her that it would make her look like a bobblehead. By far not the worst thing he’d said to Flo, but it still wasn’t great-especially considering how  cute he was finding the same look on this lady. 

She just looked at Lee for a moment, apparently weighing his offer in her mind, then glanced towards the apartments little kitchenette. 

“I could make you a cup of coffee, if you’d like. Or, um, I have some leftover spaghetti, if you’re gonna be around…” 

“That’s alright. I’ll be right out there in the cruiser, stick around for a while and make sure your jackass doesn’t show back up.” Lee hooked a thumb back towards the front door, still standing open against the cool night air. 

“Okay.” She didn’t offer again. The lack of persistence in her offer stung Lees ego, just a little bit. It’d been a bit since a woman who didn’t reek like the sweat and stale beer had paid him more attention than an eye-fucking. Losing Flo really had tarnished his reputation, goddamn her and her suited-up lawyer with his fancy office in Dayton. If he’d really wanted to put up a fight, he could’ve accused Flo of sleeping with the bastard. She almost certainly hadn’t been, but it would’ve made the whole process a bit more inconvenient for her. Maybe that was a petty sort of win to want. Maybe Lee was the sort of man who wanted those wins anyway. 

And that was the end of it. 

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

By around 1:45, Lee was dozing off in his cruiser. He’d finished off his room temperature Pepsi, smoked a cigarette, hummed the earworm theme song from 'Name That Tune' and smoked another cigarette. He’d opened and closed the glove box at least six times, contemplating the Chunky bar stowed in there. 

All while keeping an eye on the other cars in the parking lot, seeing if anyone was going to try to cause trouble. He doubted that the idiot who had been bothering little miss thing was going to show back up that night, but that didn’t mean other horseplay wouldn’t happen-though depending on what it was, Lee would have to let it go anyway. The girls down at the Tecumseh and a couple of illegal substances all fell under the umbrella of ‘things Lee let slide for cold hard cash’. 

The door of miss things unit opened up, light spilling out for just a moment. If Lee had turned his headlights on he could’ve gotten a look at what she was holding, but he also probably would’ve spooked her into dropping it. It didn’t matter anyway, because she came right up to his drivers side window. He’d left it rolled down after the first cigarette. It was a nice night for May. 

She offered him a steaming mug with a cartoon cardinal painted on it. The aroma of coffee hit him instantly-good, fresh coffee, not like the shit at the station that comes out burnt then sits in the pot for hours. 

“It’s been a bit. I figured you’d take me up on this, now.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Lee responded, taking the mug. Their hands didn’t touch, though to be fair, the only person who did much touching on Lee those days was himself. 

The coffee was strong and sweet, just how Lee liked it. So she could at least make a good cup of coffee, and really…wasn’t at all bad looking with the tear tracks washed off her face. No Bess Myerson, but that was a high bar. She was plenty attractive for a town like Meade-and a man like Lee. 

A lot of things could be good enough for a man like Lee.

[pixeldolly]

The Sacrifice - Part 1

“Hello there!”

A woman’s voice, rich and honeyed, stopped Fiona in her tracks. It was a voice she had heard before, but couldn’t quite place it.

“Can I help you?”

Turning around, Fiona’s gaze landed on a striking blonde - mid to late 30s - wearing a chic red blazer and a charming smile on her perfect, rouged lips.

“I just wanted to introduce myself - I’m Eliza Clare, I live next door.”

Fiona remembered then; the blonde had moved in some time ago then vanished just as abruptly. Fiona had assumed she’d moved away.

“Fiona Merridew; nice to meet you.”

“Likewise! It’s always nice to make the acquaintance of a fellow practitioner!” 

Eliza’s aura sparkled with magical energy, and there was no mistaking that sharp undertone, like electricity prickling along her skin. Fiona recognized a fellow dark witch when she met one.

How interesting.

“So, listen - are you doing anything right now? Would you like to come inside for a drink and a chat?”

The only task on Fiona’s list that morning was grocery-shopping, so she accepted.

“What can I get you? Coffee? Tea? Something stronger?”

“Tea for me, thanks.”

“Coming right up! I promise I conjure the best tea.”

Fiona cast an eye around Eliza’s home: the furniture aspired to class, but it was cheap and worn and quite at odds with the woman’s designer clothing. The combination suggested someone who was used to wealth, forced by circumstances to make do with less.

She also noticed several bottles of wine in the living room alone, and Eliza wasted no time pouring herself a glass. 

It wasn’t even 10 am yet.

“So, Fiona, do tell - what brings you to this dismal little town?”

“I was born in Walden, an even smaller town high up in the mountains, and moved here after graduating. Trust me, it’s an improvement.”

“That bad, huh? Forgive me for being so bold, but I thought the Merridews lived across the pond, in the Windenburg area.”

“Most do. My dad moved here in his youth. What about you, Eliza? You’re obviously not local either.”

“I needed a change of scenery, and a clean break. Messy divorce - ugh! It was such a headache, I couldn’t wait to get away!”

“I can imagine. This is why I keep things commitment-free.”

Eliza toasted her good sense.

“Clever!”

“By the way - speaking as one witch to another - what’s the state of the magical community here? I’ve been away and I haven’t had time to research the matter.”

“It’s small, but growing.”

“Any covens worth mentioning?”

“There’s the one I lead, of course.”

“You?”

Fiona didn’t appreciate her incredulous tone.

“You’re welcome to apply. Although I must warn you, membership requirements are quite strict. We take only the best.”

“Aren’t you precious? I will definitely consider it.”

They made casual conversation until Fiona found a pretext to leave. She decided she didn’t like Eliza Clare, from her thinly veiled arrogance to the counterfeit charm she wore like a cheap perfume. Fiona doubted anything she’d told her was true.

Nevertheless, it was good to get the measure of a potential rival.

“We should do this again sometime! Take care now!”

“You too, Eliza. I’ll be seeing you around, I’m sure.”

As soon as Fiona’s back was turned, Eliza’s bright smile vanished, replaced by a coldly calculating look. 

When Fiona had introduced herself as a Merridew, her heart had skipped a beat - that family had wealth and connections, and she had survived this long by keeping a low profile - but it seemed that only an insignificant offshoot branch lived in the area.

Also, if this girl was at the head of Mistvale’s most prominent coven, she likely had nothing to worry about.

Still, Eliza planned to keep an eye on her. Just in case.

[teecupangel]

Modern AU where Desmond and Connor are friends and Desmond has met Haytham plenty of times. One day, Haytham shows up at the bar Desmond works at, and after some time, Desmond calls Haytham "Daddy."

Either as a joke or even a slip of the tongue, but to both their embarrassment, Haytham actually likes it.

Later, Connor is confused about why Desmond looks like he wants to die, and Haytham is trying to weigh the pros and cons of actually acquiring his son's friend as a sugar baby.

“Do you think Connor would be alright if I were to court his best friend?”

Jenny stared at her disaster of a younger (half-)brother.

Considering how old Haytham was already, Jenny was pretty sure this could be counted as his… ‘midlife crisis’.

Why he was suddenly fantasizing about becoming a sugar daddy to his son’s best friend though…

The Kenways had always lived for the drama.

Their father’s life was full of it and Jenny herself had been a big drama queen when she left the Kenway mansion after a fight with their father that she still refuses to apologize for.

Hell, everyone close to the Kenways were still wary of talking about Tessa after the messy divorce their parents had.

So really…

Haytham deciding to start another drama by seducing his son’s best friend?

Not that surprising, all things considered.

Although, she hoped he would pick someone better than…

“The Auditore boy?” She asked with a frown, having had dealings with the Auditores because they walked similar circles.

“God no.” Haytham shook his head as a look of sheer disgust decorated his face.

Good to know his brother still had standards then.

Who else was her nephew’s close friends again?

It wasn’t like she knew which of them was his best friend.

Someone that would catch her brother’s attention…

She blinked before staring at Haytham with dawning despair.

“The Miles boy?”

Haytham gravely nodded.

Well, considering who her nephew’s other friends were…

The Miles boy would be the best option.

But…

“Forget if my dear nephew would be alright…” She raised an eyebrow as she said, “William Miles will kill you if he learns you’re seducing his son.”

“If he learns.” Haytham reminded her.

Dear god.

Jenny was right.

Haytham was preparing for another dangerous (and forbidden) drama in his life.

And Jenny was simply too happy to have front row seats to it.

[pinetreesandportals]

I just read your Ford Pines headcanons and my heart has melted!!! You did say you’re taking requests, so I was wondering if I could request a quick Ford and Dipper bonding moment where Ford calls his great nephew “son” for the first time?

No pressure whatsoever! I love your stuff, and as long as you love making your stuff, everyone will appreciate and enjoy it! Thank you :3!

Hi I am so sorry this was so late!! I’m a full time college student but here you go!!!

——————————————————————————

Stanford Pines never wanted children. They bumped into expensive lab equipment and broke boiling beakers, shattered cylinders, and bumped into levers. He never wanted them. It wasn’t for lack of women, though. They loved a nerd.

Thirty years in a portal meant that he couldn’t have children. He didn’t want to, either. With Bill on the loose, he couldn’t fathom endangering a child in the triangle’s presence.

Stanford Pines never had an heir. An heir meant a child, and children meant messes and broken glasses. They were stained clothing and messy floors, having to feed them thrice a day as well.

Dipper-

Dipper was his son. He was his son in everything but name. His son, his true pride and joy. He might have been Shermie’s grandson, but he was his great-nephew. He willed everything to Dipper.

His son.

He begged him to let him stay. Even if it was just in the lab. Mabel had to stay too. Ford gave a sad smile.

“If your parents want you home, then you have to go home.”

“It’s- it’s not like that Gruncle Ford!” He shouted. “They’re not together!”

“They’re divorced?” He asked.

“Why do you think we ended up here?” He asked incredulously. “Nobody comes here on accident!”

“Who will you go to?” Ford asked.

“We don’t know! They’re not separated yet!”

“I suppose you could stay-“

Son.

“We don’t want to go back.”

Ford could buy two spare mattresses. Dipper would want to stay in the lab with Ford. Mabel would stay upstairs for the most part.

“Let me talk to you parents-“

Son.

“Really?” Dipper asked. Ford smiled again.

“Really.”

“Thanks Gruncle Ford!” He exclaimed.

“Anytime, son.”

Ford never wanted children. At all. Ever. But now, he had a son and a daughter. And he would fight furiously for them.