#one was a restaurant where the woman who took us there (the mom of one of my old classmates) was like ‘well we’re all nice christians’ and I

[simpjaes]

FIRST DATE ETIQUETTE (p.sh)

Park Sunghoon is not dull, nor is he the clean cut neighbor your mother thinks he is. Oh, the horrors of if she found out that the man she set you up on this date with immediately took you home and rendered you unable to walk...he'd never be able to defend himself without a swift slap to the head.

៸៸៸ minors do not interact! 

៸៸៸ PARING:  park sunghoon x afab reader

៸៸៸WC: 9.3k

៸៸៸ TAGS: mentions of food (meat), strangers to fucking immediately to the possibility of dating later, brat taming, mocking and making fun of each other, sneaky sex, flirting and bullying in the same instance, cocky sunghoon, um…they’re kind of competitive in bed

៸៸៸ A/N: what’s that? you’ve read this before? that’s bc i wrote it! I’ve revised the original now to fit sunghoon because I am insatiable in my lust for him. (original title: the bore next door)

smut tags under cut::​​​

SMUT TAGS: dom sunghoon, bratty/sub reader, huge cock agenda (again), he gets the best head he’s ever had, he calls you messy a lot (he likes it messy),  face fucking, pussy eating, nipple biting, finger fucking, squirting,  dirty talk, wow i can’t believe I actually wrote a condom being used this time!!!!, sunghoon tries to make you moan because his horny brain wants your parents to know, dirty talk, praise, hair pulling.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

23rd street. The restaurant is on 23rd street, and you can honestly say you’ve managed to hit every street but this one. From 13th to 35th, does the street in question even truly exist? Were you set up by your parents?

In short, you have been single since high school. Maybe a few flings here or there throughout college but you never truly settled on one man or woman in a relationship. You’re almost shocked that your parents are pushing so hard for you to find love. They want you to somehow feel the love from the movies, something like they had felt when they met. In this century, unfortunately, love isn’t quite as predictable.

 You can’t just pick a person who has a good job and a decent face and assume love will settle in someday. 

Not only is it not predictable but it isn’t a priority in your life. You have no interest in meeting the standard a man could hold for you, nor a woman, or family member. You’re here to exist in your own way, work your way up through the corporate food chain, and live in a home with over thirteen cats before dying a peaceful death in your late eighties. Why do you need a man to do any of this? Why do you need to settle for one cock, one set of hands, and one personality?

Right, because mom wants you to at least try to experience what love is. Surely, it’s just because she desperately wants a grandchild from her one and only daughter. Sorry to disappoint, but that will not happen any time soon. Children were never a thought in your mind, nor was marriage, a honeymoon, or a burial plot next to another person. Your mother knows this, but the least you can do is show some effort to please her, right? To prove that relationships just aren’t your thing, and you’d much rather have the funds to live a comfortable life all on your own.

23rd street is the small thumb tack on a map where there is a restaurant that holds a very, very, annoying arrangement. 

Your mother had really sold the idea to you. She says the nice neighbor boy next to her seems to be around your age, he brings her the mail sometimes. He seems to have a job, his own car, his own home that sits in a plot next to theirs. His lawn stays mowed, the siding on his house stays clean, and apparently he seems quite lonely considering your mother appears to have watched him enough to know he doesn’t bring any girls home.

At least that she’s aware of.

She doesn’t mention what he looks like and of course, when you’d asked because, in all honesty, that’s the most important thing to you if you’re going to get anything out of this, she simply states that he dresses well, is handsome, and has dark hair.

For all you know, she just set you up on a date with Antonio Banderas. 

What you weren’t expecting though, is to find this restaurant almost an hour late and walk in to find an already half-eaten meal in front of a man who looked at you as if you were any stranger on the street.

 A stranger you were, and so was he, but honestly, he is attractive. That alone made you feel a bit guilty for not having found this place sooner. The idea that the man in front of you did not wait for you shows that he also has priorities that aren’t you. This is probably a huge inconvenience for him too, if anything. 

Imagine your nice neighbor lady telling you to go to a restaurant to meet her daughter? God. The first words out of your mouth are an apology. Not for being late, and not for not even wanting to be here, but for your mother for even trying.

“Sorry about my mom,” you mutter, plopping down into the booth with a sigh. You eye over his food, already knowing that the check will likely be split. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Why the rush?” The man immediately says, pushing an untouched glass of water your way. “I don’t mind that you were late, I was just really hungry.”

You hum at him, waiting for the waitress to come over so you can place the most obnoxious order in the world because you’re really not in the mood to even look at the menu or the prices. Chicken strips and fries, obviously.

“So, what did you order?” You state, eyeing his plate. 

“Steak?” He says it like a question, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world and it definitely is. Clearly there is a half-eaten steak that probably costs over twenty dollars on his plate. Still, you were just trying to make small talk.

The man says nothing after this, offering nothing but an awkward atmosphere. It doesn’t take long at all for you to stop caring about the entire arrangement, as if you cared in the first place.

“Look—” You try to offer, and the handsome man in front of you doesn’t even quirk a brow as he sips his own drink. “I don’t even remember your name, and I know my mom is trying to set us up but—”

“You’re not interested, and you have better places to be?” The man finishes for you as he sits his drink down with a gulp that makes much less sound than your own. “That’s fair. My name is Sunghoon, by the way.”

You nod at him, already deciding that you’ll get chicken strips somewhere else on your own so that you can eat them in the comfort of your own home, alone, without a stupidly handsome man in front of you that has, probably, less interest than you do.

“Well, I’m interested, and I don’t have anywhere better to be,” Sunghoon says, shooting his eyes up at you. “And to be quite honest with you, your mother was right. You are pretty.” 

Taken aback, you’re somehow comforted by his forwardness towards you. He acts just as uninterested as you do but counters that demeanor with his words. You can’t imagine that this is how the man picks up women, there’s honestly no way he would win that way. No wonder he is single.  Then again, you kind of do the same thing. You see an attractive person and you act much the same as Sunghoon right now. Uninterested in anything long-term but clearly interested in something. 

“I’m pretty, huh?” You laugh, sipping the water and internally giving this man an extra three minutes to fully sell the idea of this date to you. ��Imagine my surprise to walk in and find that I was set up on a date with someone that is actually attractive.”

“Oh?” Sunghoon quirks a brow. “Is this how you return a compliment?” 

You shrug. 

“Is this how a date normally goes for you—you know, where you’ve already eaten your food and would probably rather pay and leave before she even gets a chance to order?”

“No,” he responds pointedly. “Would you rather me throw a tantrum that you were late?”

“You’d be a lot less dull if you did.” You throw back, eyeing a waitress as she heads over. 

Sunghoon watches as you place your order and watches a bit harder at the way you smirk at yourself through nearly everything you say. You must think you’re clever, you must think he’s willing to chase you or something.

“I’m dull?” He questions, staring you down with narrowed eyes when the waitress walks away. “You just ordered chicken strips at one of the most expensive restaurants in town.”

You’re taken aback a bit, shaking off his little insults and sitting straight up. Interesting date, truly.

“Okay then, Sunghoon—” You say his name as if it’s a joke or something, but you don’t really let him react to it. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a systems software developer,” he deadpans, swirling his very nonalcoholic water in his hand. “Not that you’d know what that is or anything. And you?”

In all honesty, you don’t really know what that means, but it isn’t hard to figure it out. Assuming he must make programs or something, assuming he probably flew through college in order to do it in the way he seems proud of what he does. In all honesty, it still sounds like such a bore. He must talk in code or something in his free time. 

“I’m—uh—I’m a teacher.” You try to laugh, realizing that you’re kind of putting him down when he very clearly must make more money than you do. 

Only now does it set in that your mother stated he has his own home. One that sits directly beside theirs in a neighborhood that you grew up in. One that you tried to find your own home in but ended up in a shitty apartment in the city because it is all you could afford. Sunghoon must make good money. 

“Oh yeah? What do you teach?” He perks up in interest, no longer acting as if he is trying to insult you and instead offering conversation to you with such ease that you almost forget you’re supposed to be getting through the date in discomfort. 

“I teach everything, I guess. It’s just first grade. I swear, I teach them how to pull up their pants properly more than how to spell words.” You smile to yourself thinking of the loud and obnoxious children you teach five days a week. 

Your job is why you don’t want children though. Your job is why you’d rather stay single. All you hear about is how the third-grade english teacher is fucking the fifth-grade science teacher even though he has a wife who is pregnant with their second child. Sometimes you hear gossip about the students themselves. Who in their right mind as an adult would gossip about elementary school kids? It’s no wonder you’re not a favored teacher. You’re sure they’ve said something about you for not having a significant other or a child on the way too. 

Sunghoon smiles through your endearment towards your class, eyes perking up at the plate of chicken strips on their way to you. He doesn’t say much when you thank the waitress and doesn’t really pay attention to the way you devour the first strip in nearly one bite. 

“Seems like a lively job. I just sit around all day staring at a computer screen…” He begins to drone on about his own job, sounding more like background noise in your head if you’re being honest. You can barely hear him over the crunching of your chicken and you’re a bit thankful for that.

“And I think that it was really worth the—” You interrupt his long string of sentences with a call of his name. “Sunghoon, do you have any other interests?” You ask, sipping your water.

He deadpans at your rudeness of interrupting him. Sunghoon doesn’t often go out on dates, nor does he often get asked about these types of things so, he goes quiet, flicking his eyes down to his hands and then back up to you.

“I like to go hiking, I guess? Watching movies? Sometimes I like to cook—”

Ah. He’s one of those guys. 

“Those are like, the most common interests a person can have. You don’t have any special hobbies or weird quirky things you like to do?” You question, trying to see something in him past the fact that he’s nice to look at and has a decent paycheck. 

“I don’t really have the time to put into other things. When I’m not working, I’m busy cleaning my house or doing yard work since I’m usually too tired during the week to do it.”

“God, you are such a bore.” 

Sunghoon realizes now that maybe you’re not just throwing around banter. Sure, neither of you really wanted to come on this date but he could have used the time away from a computer screen to look at his neighbor’s daughter. If anything, it was an interesting offer, and those don’t come by him too often. He had seen photos of you. He knew you were pretty, and he also should have known you were a bit stubborn with the way your mother warned him before the date.

“If I was so boring, would I be sitting here on a date with a woman I don’t know?” He glares over at you. 

“I don’t know, probably. It isn’t the riskiest thing in the world. What? You don’t have tinder?”

Sunghoon looks down again, because no, he doesn’t have fucking tinder and he doesn’t understand why that matters.  “Why does that matter?” 

“Ah, so we are similar.” You smile to yourself in a small win, and you’re not even sure if it’s even an argument at this point. “No time for hobbies, so no time for dating either?” 

He nods slowly at you, completely confused by the way you go from picking his personality apart to finding some way to connect with him. 

“We can wrap this up then if you want?” You offer, still picking at the food on your plate. “I can pay for mine, so I release you from this arrangement.” 

He just sits there staring at you. What a peculiar woman. Do you really assume he isn’t somehow finding the fun in all of this? In all honesty, this date is going off without a hitch compared to many other dates he’s been on. He has never been on a date where he is criticized, nor has he ever criticized a date himself before.

 It’s almost kind of nice, like a breath of fresh air being able to meet someone who isn’t trying to show their best aspects. Someone who is sitting in front of him being as real as they possibly can be. Sure, you’re attractive, but your lack of interest in this date is somehow—flooring.

“What if I want to stay?” He makes eye contact with you. “What if I want to pay for your overcooked chicken?” 

“I’d be letting you win if you pay for me, but you’re free to stay.” You wave him off with your hand, realizing that the chicken is very dry and wasn’t hitting the spot like you’d been pretending. “So, what now then?” You add with a tilt of the head. 

“Admitting I’m interested in you?” He says it with so much confidence that you’re a little bit surprised, because this entire time you’ve been trying to act as uninterested as possible, despite finding some amount of attraction to Sunghoon.

“Poor you,” You coo, pushing your plate away from you and pulling your almost-empty water closer. “Okay, let’s try and make this worth something then.” 

Sunghoon prepares himself to listen, but honestly, he couldn’t have prepared for what you’re about to say to him.

“Neither of us are looking for anything serious right?” You ask, continuing after he nods. “So,” you pause briefly, thinking a bit too hard on how to word it. “Why don’t we just treat it like a tinder date?”

You’re definitely implying that the night could continue together, only to never speak of or see each other again after the sun rises. 

“Are you suggesting I bring you home with me?” He looks at you with a face you can’t really read. 

“Isn’t that what people do when they’re on a date, find each other attractive, but want nothing more?” You reiterate for him, because he seems to have trouble processing what you’re trying to get across to him. “Unless this isn’t your thing?”

Sunghoon pulls his hand up and pushes his hair out of his face for a moment. He’s thinking about it, barely even realizing that you’ve known each other for less than an hour.

“I didn’t take you for the type of fuck on the first date.” He cocks his head, looking at you in a lazy way.

It feels a little painful that the first curse word he says out loud is describing something that involves you and your offer. 

“I’m not, usually, but it has been a while for me and I can’t help but think we could have fun with it.”

He nods, eyeing you down. “Do you want to drive to my house then? Or do I need to bring you back to get your car?”

“Nah, I can drive. I know where you live, considering I grew up next door and all. I can just crash at my parent’s house once we are done.”

Sunghoon kind of shifts his eyes nervously, looking down at the table and then back at you with a lick against his bottom lip. “Speaking of, your parents—” He pauses, fiddling with his hands. “Look, they probably wouldn’t expect me to be the type to uh, get intimate with their daughter on the first date.”

“Only date,” you correct him, amused. “What, you thought we would meet again after this?”

Sunghoon waves you off dismissively. “That’s not the point. I don’t want my neighbors thinking I’m some fuckboy, and I’d rather them not find out because I’m sure your mom would slap the shit out of me the next time I bring her the mail.”

“Sunghoon—” You snort in a mocking tone. “My mom set you up on a date with me, you’re gonna take me home and show me a good time within an hour of meeting me. Imagine if she found out you’re not as sweet and innocent as she thinks–”

His face goes warm, but his eyes darken a bit as he looks at you. “Listen, I don’t usually do this.” 

“Well yeah, you seem too boring to actually have some fun.” 

Offense taken. 

And when he says nothing else to that, you speak up again, this time a bit more gentle. 

“Don’t feel like you have to. I can go home and we can pretend this never happened.”

“No, no,” Sunghoon assures, making eye contact with the waitress as if to silently ask for the check. “I could use the distraction.” 

He was slim when he stood up, obnoxiously attractive getting into his stupidly expensive car, and even the way he drove in front of you pissed you off. He drove the speed limit all the way to the familiar street of your childhood. What a boring, boring man.

When he pulls into his driveway, you aren’t sure if you should park at his house or your own. You realize if you park at either your parents will wonder why you’re parking in their driveway but not in their living room, or wonder why you’re parked in the clean-cut Sunghoon’s driveway because he would never fuck their daughter on the first date. 

You opt to park a block away, walking to Sunghoon’s house and feeling a bit silly for hiding. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Fitting,” you say as you step into his living room and scan the way he is entirely boring.

“What?” He asks from behind you, watching you judge his space.

“Very monotonous, very you.”

Sunghoon sighs at your constant critiques of him, but he’s smiling through it because you’re still here, and you’re the one who suggested coming home with him.

“I’ve gotta say, I’ve never brought a woman home just to have her insult me,” he laughs, stepping around you and placing his jacket on the end of the couch. “I can imagine that your place hasn’t been cleaned since you moved in.”

You glare at him, slipping your own jacket off and throwing it on his floor out of spite.

“I am a comfortable mess, Sunghoon, and you–” you scan the room once more, “are very clearly uncomfortable.”

He shifts his eyes for a second because, yeah. It’s not that he wouldn’t enjoy having colorful photos on the walls or a couple of knick-knacks lying around. Arguing about it isn’t your purpose for being here though, and he’d much rather skip the banter at this point.

“I can admit that your jacket looks good on my floor,” he takes a step forward, attempting to be as bold as he typically would be with a woman who knows how he is in bed. He’s never had to play off of his own cleanliness though. “I’m willing to make a mess of this house if you take more off.”

Oh, okay.

“Oh, so you can be interesting?” You mock him once again, reaching for the hem of your dress (yes, dress.) and looking at him. “You want to see my clothes on your floor?”

Sunghoon watches you intently, seeing your thighs being exposed more and more as the dress raises. His body is already reacting, becoming more attracted to your witty sense of displeasure toward his entire personality and lifestyle. After all, he’s a computer whizz and you deal with screaming children all day. He wonders why he expected anything less. Little do you know though, he fully intends to have you praising him before the night is up.

“I’d like to see you on my floor,” he answers, reaching for your dress and pulling it up further and above your head. “If I’m being honest, anyway.”

You were trying to go slow with the removal of your dress, mostly to see how he reacts to seeing a woman nearly naked in front of him but damn. You weren’t quite expecting how forward he’s being about it. Here you were expecting to be fucked missionary without any foreplay in a bed with all white sheets, right next to a washer and dryer, socks on, lights off. 

��Oh,” you gasp, slightly out of character in his opinion but his body reacts even more to that. He’s already allowing himself to get aroused so, naturally, his confidence is also bubbling up through each thought and word he decides to say to you. 

“What, you’re shocked?” He laughs, dropping your dress to the floor and scanning your body. “I can admit that I’m a little shocked too.” 

You look at him in confusion, moving your arms over your chest and wondering what the fuck he’s talking about. 

“You wore a matching set for a first date? With a complete stranger?” He mocks you this time, stepping even closer and running his fingers along the hem of your bra. You can feel the warmth from his thumb gently rubbing the skin as he does it and instantly your body tells on you in the form of goosebumps. 

“I’ll have you know,” you’re the one stepping closer this time, “I always wear matching sets, because I like to feel sexy.” 

You’re a liar. You definitely wore them just in case.

He hums, mere inches from your face as he looks down at you. It feels like he’s fucking looming, it feels like he must have his heat set too high or something.

 It gets even worse when his eyes don’t leave yours, but you feel his hand drop from your chest only to hear the familiar sound of a belt being unbuckled. He stares at you while he does it, his hair falling in his face at the movement of what he’s doing waist down. For some reason, that does it for you, and you’re already rubbing your legs together as you stare right back at him. 

“I think that’s bullshit,” he smirks, slipping his belt from the loops of his pants and tossing that to the floor as well, and then he brings his face another inch closer, “and don’t think I can’t tell that you’re turned on.” 

You don’t back down, nor do you admit that he’s absolutely right. You just look at him, watching a strand of his hair fall in front of his eyes that are beginning to darken by the second. 

“I’m not turned on, believe me, it’ll take a lot more than–” You’re cut off by him planting his hand directly between your legs, two fingers pressing your panties slightly into you. 

“Hm?” He encourages you to say that again, but you’ve got your breath caught in your throat at his extreme change in demeanor.

Still, he’s looking directly at your face, watching the way you try to think of a lie. 

“You wanna keep pretending that I’m boring?” He asks, sliding his fingers up and pressing against your clit. 

You shake your head, finally dropping the act and blinking at him with empty thoughts. 

“That’s what I thought,” He ticks his tongue at you, now pulling his fingers away and showing you that even through your panties, his fingers are already soaked. “Now take the rest off.”

You do as he says, watching him step away with his shirt untucked and his pants undone. You note that he grabs a condom, which for some reason reminds you that you’re definitely about to get railed into the next dimension if that bulge behind those pants implies anything. 

Standing there with all of your clothes thrown around his living room, you watch him harder than you already had been. He’s slow when he sets the condom down on the table, and even slower when he walks up to you and places a hand on the top of your head before guiding you to sink down.

“Wha–right here?” You ask, feeling the clean carpet offer relief for your knees rather than the hard wood floors of the room over. 

“I said I wanted to see you on my floor, didn’t I?” He smiles, already admiring how shameful you’d appear to be if your parents saw you naked and on your knees for him. 

You nod, looking up at him. When you reach forward to actually lower his pants though, he steps back and continues to create distance between the two of you as he backs himself up to the wall and lounges against it. 

“Crawl to me,” he instructs, wondering if it’s too much for you but letting out a pleased sound of relief when you instantly do it.

Would you normally let a man tell you to do that? No. Would you ever actually listen to a man who speaks to you like this? Fuck no. You can’t defend your actions when you do it and you also can’t lie that you’re absolutely fucking dripping over it. Like, honestly, he’s going to have to deep clean this fucking carpet by the time you leave this house. 

When you reach him, you can feel the heat in your cheeks at the very idea of him from this angle. You sit on your knees, lifting your hands to his pants and lowering them before he can try to draw the process out even longer. You can hear him let out a short chuckle at the way you try to be quick with it, and you already know he’s about to say some shit.

“I didn’t expect you to be this eager.” He talks down to you with a deep and raspy voice, one that sounds entirely sensual. In terms of what he says though, honestly, you shouldn’t expect much more considering how the two of you practically roasted each other before this very instant. 

You ignore his words, letting his pants drop to the floor and now reaching to pull his briefs down. You were incredibly unprepared for his size as you watched it stand stiff and raging in front of your face. Not a single hint of precum is seen, and it makes you feel kind of pathetic for how wet you’ve already gotten. It almost feels like a challenge now, to make him feel just as desperate as you do now. 

Thankfully, your throat is fairly trained for sucking men until they’re trembling. Hopefully, all those dudes you’ve fucked around with before come in handy and don’t let you down this time around. 

Sunghoon watches you from above, smiling over the way you stare at his length before finally touching it. He keeps his cool though, wondering how just over an hour ago you were ordering the worst food a restaurant has to offer, scoffing at his job, his hobbies, and now look at you. What a sight. 

“Go on,” he encourages you, pressing his hips forward so that the head of his cock hits your cheek, “let me see how messy you are.”

You roll your eyes at him, gripping the base before closing your eyes and breathing in through your nose. The very second you wrap your lips around him, he has both hands on your head, not moving it, not pushing you down or anything, just resting there. You’d think it was sweet if it weren’t for the fact that he pushes his hips forward after four whole seconds.

So, he’s not going to guide your mouth, he’s going to hold it there? Okay, you guess. Thankfully, he’s not being super rough with it like you anticipated. If anything, he’s sliding himself into your mouth much as you’d do on your own. 

He hums out at the feeling of your inner cheeks hugging against his length, pressing in more and more with each thrust of his hips until he finally gets the majority of his length past your lips. He can see you breathe through your nose, but he doesn’t feel resistance at all so he presses his hips in even more, essentially until he’s blocking your airways and your throat is restricted around him in a gag. 

Instead of pulling your head back though, he feels your fingers grip the back of his legs, you’re trying. He holds your head there in place, feeling your throat massage his cock in probably one of the best ways he’s ever felt. 

“Shit,” he seethes out between a bite of his lip, “you’ve done this before?” 

The very thought of you letting your throat be used is enough for him to want to keep doing it, but hearing your response as a half-moaned gag vibrating around his length is a whole other story. 

He releases his hands from behind your head just to see if what he thinks you’re implying with those vibrations of sounds is right, and god is he thrown for a loop. You stay there, and even when he pulls his hips back before fucking into your throat once more, you still stay there.

He’s going to lose his goddamn mind because never has a woman been able to withstand this amount in their throat for this long for him. Enough to actually have him a little worried that you’re essentially suffocating on him. 

Sunghoon snaps his hips back, pulling out of your mouth and leaning down just a bit to grab your chin and guide your eyes up to him. 

“Breathe,” he says, watching the way you smirk at him as if you’ve won some sort of award. He narrows his eyes at you, “You can choke all you want babe, but you’re gonna have to not be this cock drunk if you want to pretend that you’ve got the upper hand.”

That motherfucker. You’re trying to make him show just a hint of desperation for you and he completely flips the tables on you? 

Before you can even argue again, he’s guiding your lips back on him. You decide that it’s not over yet, he can talk down to you all he wants, but you’re going to be the one laughing at him by the end of the night. 

You allow him to place his hands back on your head, and you kind of like the weight of his cock on your tongue if you’re being honest, but god damn does he have a harsh rhythm. His hips snap languidly but he buries himself deep.  Even when you try to look up at him as your nose presses against his pubic bone, he’s looking down at you so casually. Like he feels okay. Just okay. 

This time, when he pulls his hips back, he doesn’t have to hold your head steady. You chase his length even as it tries to slide from your mouth, and you start to move your head back and forth in time with his hips. You finally receive a moan from him when you reach a hand up and cup his balls, massaging them in one hand as your saliva bubbles out from around your lips.

“So fucking messy–” he chokes out in a surprised moan, praising you for somehow making this feel even better than it already did. 

You hum around him again, feeling the weight of his cock pulse against your tongue and you start to taste more of his precum. Shamefully, you’re starting to want this more and more. You want him to call you messy, you want him to bruise your throat. You don’t mind, now that you’ve seen a snippet of what he’s like when he shows his pleasure.

Just a moment goes by when you feel his hands grip your hair, pulling slightly and following the rhythm of your movements, just putting a bit more force behind them until he finally presses you one last time against his pelvic bone, swirling his hips and stretching out your throat impossibly more around him. 

“Just like that, yeah,” his moans echo throughout his empty walls and it causes your eyes to flutter as you try to breathe in through your nose. When you gag, he moans again. “Fuck, you know exactly what you’re doing.”

Then, he releases you and watches with a smirk at the way you pull back in a deep breath before wiping your mouth. 

You’re not sure why, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel proud. Maybe it’s because he’s managed to pull out this weird, needy side of you, or maybe it’s because he looks incredibly good looking at you like this after the two of you spit insults at each other all night. 

“Do you want me to return the favor?” He asks, finally unbuttoning and removing his shirt.

Seeing him now, you stare at his chest and toned arms, wanting to grab onto them and feel him do whatever it is he wants to do to you. He, on the other hand, can’t tell if you’re nodding to his question or looking him up and down slowly. 

“You were so talkative earlier, what happened?” He smiles, stepping forward and falling to his knees himself, nudging your legs open in one go as he presses you back against his floor. “Do you want to fuck my tongue, or no?”

He continues to smile at your silence, eyes trained between your legs as he spreads them and then looks up at your face. “No?” 

You shake your head, leaning back on your elbows to watch him and take a breath in.

“It’s hard to talk when you’re like,” you motions towards him, “that.”

He chuckles, taking it as a compliment before snatching a pillow off of his couch and tapping your thigh to get you to lift up. You do so, allowing him to place the pillow under your ass before he settles himself there.

His eyes stay locked on yours as his fingers start to trail to your core, slipping through your folds with such ease that your embarrassment shows plainly on your face. 

“Messy,” he compliments, lightly tapping against your clit before lowering his head and blowing softly against the glistening heat you offer to him. “Keep your legs spread for me, darling.”

You still watch him, his eyes glaring up from between your spread thighs as he lets his tongue fall from his mouth and lick one long and languid stripe up your slit, stopping just before your clit and pulling back as if he’s tasting. You’re not sure what it is about him but goddamn, he must know he looks good when he’s pleasuring a woman. 

Despite him asking you to keep your legs spread for him, it appears that he doesn’t trust you to do it because he’s still got one hand prying one of your legs apart and his head moving in all sorts of ways as he allows his tongue to lap every part of you besides your clit. Even his other hand, exploring and gently placing pressure against your entrance– the way he’s doing this makes you want to press forward, it makes you want to do exactly as he asked. 

You roll your hips forward, and he instantly attaches his lips to your clit. You stop, and he trails back down and flicks his tongue against your folds in a teasing way. You grind forward, he’s right back on your clit, flicking his muscle the same way and eliciting a whine from you. 

This time though, when you roll your hips back, he takes both hands and presses your legs open as far as he can get them, spreading your pussy out across his lips for him to take full control of. He nips at your clit before licking down, pressing the pointed muscle into you and only then does he release your legs. Now, he’s sliding both hands under your ass and rocking you against his face, angling his head so that he can lick inside to taste your plush and wet walls.

God, you’re gonna lose it. Even if you didn’t want to, you’d think the way he’s moving his mouth is enough to get anyone to take advantage of it. You moan, pressing forward and back against his mouth as your own fingers fall to your clit. You rub when you press forward, feeling his warm and wet saliva drip from your slit and down to your ass, and you rub harder when you pull back, watching his eyes flutter open and still somehow manage to glare at you.

And just as soon as it started, you blink and his face is right there. You would have let out a shocked sound, because jumpscare much? But you moan instead, because he hovers over you with a smirk and an arm between the two of you, his fingers instantly sliding into you as he attaches his lips to yours with little more than a moan of his own. 

“Have you ever tasted yourself?” He asks, licking against your lips and scissoring his fingers open inside of you.

You have, but for some reason it tasted better this time when he prods his tongue against yours. Perhaps it’s because it’s from him, or maybe it’s because you are a little obsessed with the way he navigates sex. 

When he pulls back from your mouth, now losing himself a little bit in the heat of the faces you make when you feel good, he can’t help but give you a moan along with your own. You sound so fucking good when you’re not talking your shit, and god he knew that mouth could do more than be annoying. 

“Open up,” he whispers against your lips, licking your bottom lip as he thrusts his fingers deeper into you, “let me hear you.”

You can’t really help it. When you open your mouth, you’re practically panting for him. His arm is moving harshly as he fucks his fingers into you and causing you to nearly lose balance on your elbows, but he holds you there with his other arm wrapped around your waist, still licking against your lip and smirking when you still can’t say anything. 

“Louder,” He instructs, at least wanting you to moan louder for him if you’re going to act like this when he’s touching you. “Let your momma hear how good it feels, babe, go on.” 

Your eyes shoot open after that, and god, he is the fucking worst. Or maybe not, you can tell he does it on purpose. His fingers curling up inside of you and putting intense pressure against a spot that takes every man ages to find if they manage to even remember it.

“Sunghoon,” you groan, rolling your eyes back while rolling your hips forward, hand shooting to his and holding it there, “can’t you just fuck me already?”

He chuckles, dipping his head down to give a sharp bite against your nipple, his fingers still curling up into that spot. 

“Soak my fingers first.” He says, floored by how good your voice sounds when you want to get fucked. 

He continues to suck and bite against your nipple, and that sends shocks of pleasure straight down to where his fingers meet your g-spot. You could come right now if he’d just–

You roll your hips forward harder, grinding your clit against his wrist and essentially fucking yourself on his fingers now. He moans against your nipple at the movement, biting down harder as he hears you just above him holding your breath. It seems like you like not being able to breath, which is just fucking great for him. Your mom would be so heartbroken, honestly. 

“You think you can ride my cock like this?” He asks, popping your nipple out of his mouth and moving those bites up your neck and to your ear, “Think you can take it?”

You nod with heat rushing through your body, feeling his wrist stiffen up for your pleasure to grind against. 

Fuck, he can feel your cunt gripping his fingers as you work yourself up and it takes everything in him not to pull his fingers from you and absolutely bury himself into the tight heat you’re offering, but he holds back, pulling from your neck and watching the way your brows furrow and your mouth falls slack.

“Yeah, that’s it babe, ride it.” he encourages, hearing your wet slide against his fingers with each movement of your body.

You shake as it washes through you, feeling his fingers remain in their spot against your little bundle of pleasure inside of you. You feel like you can explode from this alone and he practically forces it out of you, pulling his fingers out and immediately rubbing circles on your clit. 

“Let it go for me,” he encourages in a pleasured sigh, watching your body tremble involuntarily as your face contorts to what anyone else would assume is pain. He moves further back and watches your body soak both him and his floor. “Fuck, yes, such a fucking mess.”

Well, that’s never happened before and the fact that you’re still orgasming is also new. You feel so sensitive, releasing in waves that offer little in terms of self control. Your hands shoot to his arm, gripping him so tightly as you try to hear his moans for you, but to be honest, you can’t hear a fucking thing through this wall of arousal in your head. 

Finally, you open your eyes and he’s just looking at you, smirking at the dripping against his legs and the wet spot on the floor. 

“Messy, messy girl.” He says with a chuckle. “Dirtying up my living room like this? Come on, get up.”

This is the first time Sunghoon has ever had a woman squirt for him, and honestly he’s been trying for ages to let someone experience this through him, goddamn was it sexy to see. You look absolutely fucking gone at this moment, and he might be fucking in love with the image. So badly does he want to see those shaking legs try to stand for him, so badly, does he want to see you fucking buckle.

“Come on,” he says again, not giving you enough time to even think about standing before he’s pulling you up on wobbling legs and pressing your toward the couch.

He watches how you wobble over, shuffling your feet with your knees turned inward with each step. He can’t help but lick his lips, seeing how your arousal drips down both of your legs in a shameless show of how much his fingers alone could do for you. 

“Sorry,” You rasp out as you make your way over, brain fogged from the orgasm and unable to feel much at all outside of the pulsing inside of you. “I’ve never–”

“Don’t worry, I like the mess.” He smiles, snatching up the condom and tearing the wrapper open with ease before rolling it down his length, staring at you.

Oh, right, he still hasn’t even fucked you yet. Fuck, he’s good.

He sits himself next to you, pulling an arm around your waist and guiding you on top of him. He doesn’t even think twice at your shaking legs, soothing them as you follow his hand and position yourself against his long neglected cock being held up with his other hand. 

“Gonna keep that promise?” he asks, still smoothing his hands over your legs and looking up at you. “Gonna take my cock better than you did my fingers?” 

You nod, feeling a pulse of electricity inside of you. Willing you to take more, wanting to be stretched further.

Besides, you know that once you’re seated with his length fucking impaling you, you’ll at least have his broad shoulders to hold onto if you need to stay steady.  

And when you sink down, you hear the sound you’ve been trying to pull from him all night. He lets out a soft moan, almost a whimper if you think hard enough about it, and it ignites a brand new fire in you as you take him in inch by inch. Feeling the searing stretch offer a bit of pain despite the sheer amount of wet you have collected between your legs. 

He can feel you clench around him in the attempt to adjust, and your legs shaking only offer even more in terms of pleasure as you envelope him entirely with your heat. He can’t help but moan, almost unable to keep up his dominant persona with a pussy so sweet wrapped around him. God, he loves blind dates, honestly. 

“Mhm,” he hums, rubbing both of his hands now against your thighs as you sit yourself flush against him and wait to adjust to his size, “I definitely like you.”

You fall forward with a small laugh, the irony of the situation a bit too much on top of your mind falling helplessly and embarrassingly fast at how lucky you are to have a mother to set you up with such a man. 

He’s a bit soft at this moment, wrapping both arms around your waist and listening to your breathless laughs against his neck. Loving the way each inhaled chuckle forces your body to squeeze his cock delightfully tight. 

God, You’re pretty, and so fucking annoying. Just his type. 

“I’m still going to fuck you senseless though.” he finally says, feeling your body still at his words as you lift a bit, just to slide back down on him.

“Is that a promise?” You ask weakly, pretending that he didn’t already manage to do it with his hands alone. 

He nods, the softness in his eyes disappearing instantly when he feels the drag of your cunt hug his length. He doesn’t hold back his moaning for you this time though, and he shows no shame in slapping your ass, and guiding you even closer to his chest. 

You stand on your knees a bit on top of him, watching his eyes zone in on your tits in his face. Hopefully, he’s going to keep that promise too.

His hips snap up harshly as his hands grope your ass and spread you apart. He snaps his hips again and again, nearly pulling his entire length out of you each time just to fill you up once again. Stretching you open and loosening you up, the pleasure of it hitting him right in the throat each time with small grunts against your nipple when you bounce at the movement. 

You whimper out, the sounds still echoing throughout his house along with the sounds of your thighs slapping against his. His grunts are deeper, and all of the sounds together sound like a desperate soundtrack of what you’ve always wished sex was like. He fucks you good, despite your legs still shaking, and despite the pain of his teeth biting against your skin now. 

You can’t help it when you fall forward again, hugging around his head as he starts to relentlessly fuck into you at a faster pace, the thrusts going from slow and deep to tight and pointed. His thick cock easily pressing against that same spot his fingers had been teasing earlier. You choke out at the feeling, legs jolting and causing you to sit again out of sensitivity.

He doesn’t falter at your failure to stay in position for him, and instead he gropes your ass harder, swirling your hips around him. You can feel how hard he is inside of you, splitting you open and pulsing at a near constant pace. 

“Ride it,” he instructs, much like he did with his fingers and you follow suit, lifting just slightly and sliding back down again. “Harder,” he demands, pulling his head from your grasp and looking up at you with a wild smirk. 

You look down at him, wondering how pitiful you must look up here. He appears to be loving it though, absolutely in love with the way you struggle to do what you swore you’d be able to. 

Trying again, you begin to bounce on him and he grants you his fingers on your clit for that, moaning at your own choice of rhythm and leaning forward yet again to pop his presumed favorite nipple back into his mouth.

The ministrations of his fingers paired with his mouth sends you spiraling once again into a world of pleasure. The shaking in your legs become more of a driving factor than anything as you ride him better than you’ve ever ridden anyone.

Finally, he’s the one moaning out and trying to string together choked words of praise.

“Your grip is so tight,” he mutters out, kissing up your chest and to your neck, “i can fucking feel you dripping down my legs.” He adds in a moan, losing himself in the way you move your hands through his hair and scratch at the nape of his neck. He wants to ruin you so badly, and he’s already drenched in you. He wants more. 

You knew you’d have him just as desperate as you by the end of the night. Now look at him, muttering out strings of curse words as you do nothing but ride and pet him. He’s melting under you, and you’ll be damned if he comes before you get that second orgasm. 

Shooting your hand to your clit to replace his lazy movements, you work yourself up to your second orgasm and he just watches you, taking in the image of you practically riding him into oblivion until you’re clenching even tighter around him, throwing your head back and shooting your hands to his shoulders as you harshly roll your hips into his. You’re working yourself through it when he starts pumping into you again, short and tight thrusts pushing you through your orgasm until he’s gripping you equally as hard, holding you down on him as he spills out and into the condom in more of a purr than a moan.

You watch him, dazed out of your fucking mind as he bites against his bottom lip and slowly blinks through his orgasm as you. Part of you wishes he just did it raw, wanting so badly for him to make a mess of you like you did to him.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You find yourself with him at your parent’s house just a week later, eating lunch in the chaotic mess of your mother’s kitchen. It’s funny, really, how he’s trying to be polite to her as if he’s not about to take you next door and probably fuck you against an open window just to blow his own cover.

“I told you he was a keeper,” your mother compliments him as she lays a plate of croissants on the table. “Just yesterday he offered to mow our lawn when we head off for vacation this weekend!”

She’s praising him much like you wouldn’t, and you kick him under the table for trying to suck up to her even more now that he’s fucked you several times already. 

“Did he now?” You ask, glaring over at him and then smiling sweetly at your mother. “Guess he is kind of a keeper, maybe.”

His eyes shoot to you and he smiles around his bite of croissant at you. 

“You were right though,” he counters you towards your mother, “she’s definitely a handful.”

Your mother crosses her arms as she leans against the counter, looking between the both of you. 

“How many dates have you been on without telling me?” She asks, looking at you.

“A few…” If she considers it a date to meet up and fuck every other day this week.

“We had lunch a few days ago.” he adds, backing you up. It’s just that the lunch wasn’t exactly like–you know, at a restaurant, and if she knew that cum was on the menu, perhaps you both would be slapped shitless. 

“So, are you guys going to be exclusive, or?”

Sunghoon looks at you curiously, and you look back at him. 

“I dunno, it’s only been a week, Mom.”

She nods, clapping once before pushing off of the counter and leaving the kitchen. 

It’s silent between you and Sunghoon for a few moments before he speaks up.

“I wouldn’t be against it.”

“Against what?” You ask, looking at him with a raised brow. 

“You know, like, dating. I can’t imagine anyone actually putting up with you besides me, anyway.”

You kick him again from under the table, causing him to wince out in pain before glaring at you. You smile in return though, giving him a shrug and now rubbing your foot against the bruise you probably just caused. 

“I find myself agreeing with that statement,” You laugh thinking hard about your next words. “But for some reason, agreeing with you pisses me off more.”

Sunghoon nods, smiling through the pain of the bruise forming on his shin. 

“Good thing I know how to fix that, huh?” He finishes the conversation, fully aware that he knows how to shut you up and make you love it. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

[his-angell]

"You'll get used to it, sweetheart." (c.bc)

plot; A trip with her boyfriend to his hometown sounded like a dream. She was so glad to be able to spend more time with him. But.. Maybe less time with the bugs.. paring; Christopher Bahng x fem!reader genre; crack, fluff, smidge of angst if you squint word count; 1k warnings; bugs, cursing, pet names, 3rd pov request?; yes! request found here

A trip to Chan's hometown was a dream. Finally being able to spend time with him and see where he grew up? That's literal heaven. Plus, she's always wanted to travel to Australia.. It seemed beautiful. So hey, it was a win win for her. Or so she thought. She didn't really believe that the bugs there were that horrible. She always saw online that they were bad, but she didn't really think it could be that horrible. They were only some silly bugs! Shes pretty much gotten used to most of the bugs where she lived. So, these can't be much worse, right? Getting used to the bugs didn't mean she was completely fear free of them though.. She still hated them with a passion.

After a relaxing dinner with Chan's family, they had decided to go take a walk, just the two of them. It was fall, so it wasn't too hot, or too cold. It was perfect. (y/n) listened happily to her boyfriend talk about how he missed his mom and dad so much. He was talking about fond memories he had walking down the trail they were on.

"I love listening to you talk," (y/n) butted in, squeezing his hand lightly. A light blush took over Chan's cheeks. He laughed nervously and waved his free hand. "Yeah, whatever." He huffed. "I ramble. Besides, my voice is not that-" He was cut off by the shorter woman slapping his arm. "Yah! Don't even start on that. Your voice is literally my favorite thing in the world." She huffed and rolled her eyes. He knew how much she hated when he talked bad about himself.

Chan chuckled and shook his head softly. They decided to take a seat down on a bench. They were sitting in a comfortable silence, gazing over at the clouds that passed over. The sun was setting, and it basked the sky in beautiful oranges and pinks. (y/n) looked down when she felt something tickle her thigh. She felt a hot rush over her body as she stared at the fat beetle on her thigh. She whined and quickly swiped it away.

Chan frowned and looked at her. "You alright?" He chuckled softly. "Why are the bugs so- Ugly-" (y/n) grumbled and shuttered slightly. God- She hated bugs.. There was something about them that freaked her out so bad. She huffed and ran a hand through her hair. Chan only laughed softly at her and patted her head. "You'll get used to it, sweetheart." He hummed. Would she thoughh? Definitely not was the correct answer..

That was just one time that the bugs bothered her. Over the trip, they were outside a lot. Whether it be walks, or eating outside at a fancy restaurant. There was no getting away from them. While she tried really hard to just ignore them, she wasn't able to. Whether it be a bug on the ground, or the table. Hell, even when she saw it on some strangers arm, she would scoot or step away. She couldn't stand it. They were big and ugly.

Chan was talking to his mother, and (y/n) was sparking conversations with his sister. They were sitting out on a patio. They had gone out to this lounge spot. It was really pretty. Hannah paused mid sentence to point at (y/n)'s shoulder. "Okay, don't freak out, but there's a huge spider on your arm." She laughed nervously. (y/n) tensed up and clenched her eyes shut. She couldn't even look at it, more less move to swat it away. "Chris-" She whined quietly.

Chan hummed and looked over. His smile faltered at the sight of his girlfriend tensed up with her eyes clamped shut. He glanced at Hannah, who pointed at the spider again. Chan looked and blinked at it. Yikes. He hated bugs as much as the next person, but he kinda got used to them. He knew how bad (y/n) hated bugs. "Why aren't you doing anything?!" (y/n) spat through gritted teeth, opening her eyes to look at him.

Hannah pursed her lips to stop herself from laughing. She wasn't aware of (y/n)'s fear of the insects. She cleared her throat and moved to go sit by their mother. Chan gently took a deep breath and grabbed a napkin. He reached over and grabbed the spider, crushing it inside the napkin. He got up, throwing it away. He sat back down and gently wiped her shoulder. "All gone, jagi." He kissed her head. (y/n) slowly nodded and shuttered. "Ick.. Ick!" She whined and wiped herself off.

Chan chuckled softly and patted her head. "Not used to it then?" He snickered. (y/n) glared at him. "I don't understand how I ever could get used to it. They're actually disgusting." She laughed quietly. She sighed softly and patted his cheek. "Good thing I have my big strong boyfriend to get them for me," She clicked her tongue and huffed. Chan rolled his eyes softly and shook his head softly. "Ah, I see what I am now. I'm only here to save you from the bugs." He grabbed his drink and took a sip from it. She nodded slowly and raised her eyebrows. "Wasn't that obvious?" She hummed. Chan scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I cannot with you." He tutted. "You love me." She kissed his cheek. "That I do, sweetheart," He kissed her head gently.

That's pretty much how the rest of the trip went. It was perfect, all because she had her lovely boyfriend to protect her from all the bugs. Anytime one flew by her, she would move to the other side of Chan and he would laugh and swat it away. He would tease her endlessly throughout the trip and even when they got home. All out of love of course. He never knew someone could be that worried about a little tiny thing. Truth was, those things are not tiny.. He's just oddly used to it..

...

thank you, annon for the requestt!! i hope it lived up to your wishess! muah muah! stay safee! <3

all writing rights are reserved to @his-angell do not repost or translate my work without my permission. reblogs are appreciated.

[waltat04-kevinknight]

(Credit to @evenmorefatallyobsessed as he is the creator of these pictures)

Jaune was sitting on a park bench waiting as he looked at the current news on his Scroll humming a tune before his attention was caught.

"Jaune~, sorry we're late!" A feminine voice called out to him as Jaune turned his head and smiled at the voice and blushed when he saw the two older women standing.

"H-Hello Jaune," Willow said shyly as Jaune admired her light blue shirt and deep blue skirt outfit

"W-Wow you two look absolutely gorgeous" Jaune says blushing as he stands up and the two woman smile and walk to each of his side and plant a kiss on his cheek, with Willow doing a shy kiss on the cheek while Kali does a more tender cheek kiss.

"Are you two ready for our date?" Jaune asked the two women as they nodded and walked with him through the park , enjoying their time together with their boyfriend.

Jaune knew Weiss and Blake weren't happy that he was dating their mothers but Weiss quickly got over it since Jaune is a far better man than her father and Kali lost her husband and needed tender love, both thins Jaune could provide. And both Weiss and Blake knew Jaune needed all the love he could get after everything he's been through, losing Pyrrha at the Fall, having to take Penny's life and then being alone for 30 years. They both couldn't be mad at him if he found happiness in their mother's, and they couldn't think of a batter person for them.

"So I booked us a reservation at a high-end restaurant in the city at 7 tonight I'll pick you two up at six?" Jaune asked them as they nodded.

Kali placed her hands on Jaune's cheeks and pulled him in for a deep tender kiss, tongue, and all, while Willow did the same but was the more submissive one as Jaune took control of the kiss. The two women waved goodbye and walked off with Kali, having her hand on Willow's hips teasing Jaune of what's to come.

Later that day, Jaune was wearing a black suit as he knocked on an apartment door, and it was long before he was greeted by his two lovers.

"Hello darling~ hope you like our dresses" Willow and Kali said union as they both kisses his cheek.

"Oh, you look so handsome, honey," Kali says, admiring Jaune's suit.

"And you two look beautiful and delicious~" Jaune flirted to them as he placed his hands on their hips. "Jeez Kali, no outfit can contain that bakery, huh~?" Jaune asked, making Kali smile.

"That's right darling and maybe if you're good.~ I'll treat you to some of our cake~," Kali cooed as Willow blushed.

Jaune held them by their hips and led them to the restaurant where he pulled out their chairs as they sat down and had a good time, and even ran into Blake and Yang.

"Hey Jaune, how's the date going?" Yang asked smiling.

"Great we just finished our food and we're getting ready to leave, how about you and Blake?" Jaune asked as Blake perked up.

"Oh, we had fun, and we were just about to head back to the apartment to enjoy a movie. I'll let Weiss know how you three are doing. Thanks for being their for my mom. Jaune, see you around," Blake says, leaving with Yang.

Jaaune smiles and stands up, offering his hands to Kali and Willow, who take his hands and lead him back to the apartment and it wasn't long before Kali and Willow's dresses were on the floor, Willow's ass was in the air, cum flowing out of her pussy. While Kali was getting her pussy fucked with no mercy.

"Fuck Willow he's gonna break me~!" Kali moaned as she brought Willow close and kissed her making Jaune even more turned on as he smack Kali's massive bakery making her moan into the kiss.

Jaune kept thrusting as he watched Kali's massive ass ripple and jiggle from how hard he was fucking her old milf pussy.

"Yes, fill me out, my stud~!" She moaned as she felt Jaune cum in her pussy and pull out.

"Girls, I've been been to ask you something for a while now," Jaune says, walking Iverson to his discarded suit and going into its pockets, pulling out two ring boxes and comes back to them.

Kali helps Willow sit up as the two watch Jaune get down and one knee and open each box and drop the question.

"Willow Schnee, Kali Belladonna. Willow you do me the honor of marrying m-" Jaune began to asked only to be tackled by the two woman.

"Yes!" Kali and Willow said as he pepper him with kisses after he put the rings on their fingers.

[seresinsbabe]

Conveniently Yours 7

pic is not mine it's from pinterest

Pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader

Synopsis: In a desperate attempt to pay for your mom's cancer treatment you take a job as a dancer at one of NYC's prestigious strip clubs where you meet Jake Seresin who just happens to need a wife.

Warnings: Mentions of cancer, cancer treatment and cancer treatment.

Word count: 3.3k

THIS BLOG AND ITS FICS ARE 18+! MINORS DNI!

I do not consent to having any of my work shared on any other platform. If you see any rendition of my works on another site know that it has been posted without my permission.

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You stared at the shockingly white cooked chicken being carried by a waiter who looked like he was one shitty customer away from setting this place on fire. These five star, Michelin rated restaurants were something you didn’t think you would ever be able to get used to. You were used to restaurants that had lunch time deals and happy hours. Not restaurants that served foie gras on a bed of summer greens with a delightfully sweet raspberry glaze. Whatever the fuck that meant.

“What’s with these upscale places and their aversion to seasonings? That chicken was paler than a cloud.” Jake coughed on his drink as he tried to fight a laugh. His fist covered his mouth as his eyes looked up to find you leaning over the table so you could whisper your query. There was the slightest lop-sided grin on your lips and a bit of mischievous glint in your eyes. 

This was a side of you Jake hadn’t experienced since those first weeks — before he turned cold. You’d made him laugh with your lack of a filter more often than not, and almost always at the worst of moments. Though it did make for some convincing paparazzi shots.

It took him a moment and a couple throat clears before he was able to respond. 

“Are you saying you’re having a bad time?” Jake’s slightly bushy yet still neatly formed eyebrow cocked at you. You just shrugged and sat back in your seat, smoothing out the silk napkin in your lap. 

“All I’m saying is that I know a few places that are ten times less stuffy with food ten times better than this.” There were parts of New York, your version of New York, that Jake had surely never seen. Places that he would likely never step foot in on his own accord.

Suddenly Jake was slapping a handful of bills on the table, enough to cover the drinks and a hefty tip, then he was grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the building.

“What? Did I piss you off?”

At this point you didn’t know what you were going to get with him. He was either going to play nice or he was going to be a dick. The urgency in how you’d left the restaurant had you thinking he was going to give you the latter version of him.

“Huh? Wha-no! No…” he hesitated. “I just thought you could show me your side of New York.”

Your side of New York.

Jake was letting go of the control he seemed so intent on always maintaining to let you show him around. A camera flashed somewhere in the distance, the bright light blinding you momentarily in the dark street. It was a stark reminder of what was out there. Jake had been so careful to curate your guys’ every move so that the paparazzi would only catch you two in situations he wanted them to catch you in. They had no clue that for weeks he’d brought woman after woman into the house. Or that you’d been sleeping with his best friend in secret. They had no clue this was all a front because Jake made sure of it. This wasn’t in his plan.

“What about them,” you nodded your head in the direction the flash had come. “What if they catch you slumming it at holes in the wall?” For a second his demeanor changed – he was contemplating the point you had made. Calculating in his head if it was worth it. 

As soon as it had changed it was back again.

“Fuck ‘em.” There it was – that subtle Texan accent that you only heard every so often. It was so much stronger with his parents and you had to wonder if Jake had lost it or if he purposely disguised it. “I’ll get the car.” You just nodded and stared after him as he walked up to the valet. It was only a minute later that Jake was opening the door for you to get in.

In an uncharacteristically Jake move he had chosen to go without a driver or security tonight. Or at least you didn’t notice security. There’s been several times they popped up and scared the shit out of you. So it was highly possible they were lurking in the shadows. 

“Alright, where to first?” 

“23rd and 6th.” You answered without a second thought. 

It took some time to get through the NYC dinner time traffic, but eventually Jake pulled up. It was one of those restaurants with faded pictures of food on their menu. In your experience those places always had the best food. No need to fancy up their menu when it had been working just as well in the thirtieth year as it did in the first.

“Great Burrito?” The tone in Jake’s voice had you giggling. “It would only make sense for a Mexican restaurant to also serve pizza in a city like this.” He shook his head and you laughed a little louder. He did have a point. That would only make sense in the Big Apple.

You could tell he was reluctant to get out of the car, but when Jake saw you get out so quickly he followed suit. A doorbell chimed, announcing to the restaurant there was a new customer. By now the dinner rush had mostly ended, but there were a few stragglers. Jake stood next to you, his head craned up to look at the menu above the counter.

“Come on, you’re from Texas, aren’t there taquerias there?” You nudged him with your elbow and his head moved slowly to look down at you. His brows furrowed as he processed your question but eventually the creases went away as he relaxed.

“Ye-yeah. There was a place like this on UT’s campus – Vaquero Taquero.” He smiled softly and you smiled with him. “Spent a lot of drunk nights there and a few other places.” Jake chuckled.

There was glint in his eyes and you found yourself wanting to know more about what he was like in college. Bradley had told you some stories, but not much. Most of your time spent with him wasn’t exactly spent talking – unless you counted the dirty talk.

His hand came to hover just over the small of your back as you stepped up to order. Jake’s fingers brushed ever so slightly against the fabric of your coat and you found yourself wanting to feel his palm spread over the area. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done that in public before, why was he being so hesitant about it now?

“Two tacos al pastor and one tamarindo agua.” It was your go to order, always al pastor tacos and always the tamarindo agua fresca. You listened to Jake’s order, wanting to know what he liked. Two carne asada tacos, one chorizo taco and a guava Jarritos. That one took you a bit by surprise. Jake didn’t strike you as a guava kind of guy. Or even a Jarritos kind of guy. 

The first few minutes of the meal were spent in silence, savoring the taste of the tacos while they were still freshly warm. You didn’t have to guess if Jake was enjoying them. That was evident by the way he devoured the first taco in no time flat. He was normally so calm, cool and collected. He ate his dinner so proper, this was like a drunk frat boy eating his first meal after one too many keg stands. 

Honestly it was refreshing. Tonight you got to enjoy the side of Jake that you first met. It was giving you a bit of whiplash – the way he was changing back and forth between personalities. Of course you were expecting him to go back, to turn back into that asshole that you’d started to hate. You still wondered what had changed. Why he’d gotten so cold, but that was something you were sure he wouldn’t ever share with you. Marriage or not, this was still a business transaction. There wasn’t a need for the two of you to get that intimately close.

“When was the last time you went back to Texas?” Jake took a moment to think, chewing slower as he thought. 

“I haven’t been back since I graduated with my MBA so…” he paused again, his eyes looking up at the ceiling as he silently counted the years in his head. “Ten years.”

Ten years seemed like such a long time when he’d spent more than half his life in the state. Was he just that busy or was there a deeper reason why he hadn’t gone back.

“Do you plan on visiting again?”

He shrugged and then nodded his head, leaning back against his seat. Jake brought a napkin up to his lips to roughly wipe away any taco remnants from his mouth. 

“I’m sure, UT has asked me to give the commencement speech this coming graduation. I haven’t accepted yet, but I probably will. Dad keeps talking about moving back, but I don’t think mom will ever go back.” That didn’t really surprise you.

Jake’s mom was snobby enough that she was living up the New York socialite stereotype. As were her daughters. Then again, maybe they were like that in Texas. You didn’t really care to know. As far as you were concerned Mrs. Seresin was just a thorn in your side you had to endure until your impending divorce with her son. She didn’t have to like you and you didn’t have to like her.

“What about you, what was your college experience like?”

“Definitely nothing like I’m sure yours was.” You left out a sigh that slightly resembled a half-hearted laugh. “I was trying to work my way through nursing school until mom got sick and then I had to drop out.” You shrugged, trying to play it off like it was no big deal.

Only it was a big deal. This wasn’t how you’d planned for your life to go and it certainly wasn’t how your mother had planned for your life to go either. It wasn’t her fault, no one had planned for your father to die or for your mother to get cancer. You were simply dealt a bad hand of cards and were trying to pull off a bluff. Trying to fake it til you made it.

Jake could feel the frown tugging at the corner of his lips. The contrast between the two of your and your lives was so different. Yet, despite it all you were still warm and sweet, even when he didn’t deserve it. Which he didn’t most of the time. He felt a little jealous of Bradley. Jake knew his friend got to see more of your sweetness than he did. 

The door chimed as it opened and let in a bit of cold air that caused you to shiver. Jake noticed and stood up, grabbing your empty plates and tossing them in the nearby trash. 

“Home?” It was a simple question and you answered just as simply with a nod. 

It was much more comfortable in his car on the drive home. The heat and seat warmers made you so comfortable you were borderline falling asleep. 

“What time do we need to be at the hospital tomorrow?” Jake’s soft voice brought you back from the edge of sleep. Up until now you’d forgotten that he had promised to go to your mom’s chemo with you. Honestly you hadn’t expected him to even go at all. 

You stared at him for a long second. Studying him and trying to decipher if he was being sincere.

“Eight, are you sure you want to go? It’s going to be a long day and she sleeps most of the time.” You usually brought something to read or a book of crosswords to do while there. It wasn’t anything exciting, more like saddening. Watching someone fight for their life. 

Jake just nodded and reached over, squeezing your hand. 

“Yeah, I know I’ve been an ass, but I want to do better even if this marriage is fake.” That tugged at your heart. Through all this you’d felt alone. Sure you had Nat and Bob, but they weren’t as intertwined with this as Jake was. It was his money affording the treatment. Jake was the sole reason your mom was able to fight for her life without you having to sell your body at some high end club. Now he was trying to support you in a way that was more than just financially and you could help but feel drawn to him more than you had in the past few weeks. 

Jake opened your door, his hand hovering over the small of your back as you walked to the elevator. 

“Thank you,” you started after a mostly quiet ride up to the penthouse. “Means a lot.” Your throat constricted a bit and you avoided contact with his eyes so he wouldn’t see the tears building up. His hand reached over and squeezed yours again. Your eyes locked on the sight of your hands connected. You let them linger for a long while before slowly letting them slip apart. 

“Eight am?” he asked. “Eight am.” You confirmed,

–

Hospitals always smelled the same. A little bit of bleach mixed with despair, pain and a little bit of happiness. Sometimes it was nauseating, but you’d grown used to it. When you had to drop out of nursing school you had just finished your first semester of clinicals. 

Today the chemo room was mostly empty. Just one other person on the other side of the room, an older man sitting with a much younger woman. His granddaughter you figured given the way they had been interacting all morning. A bittersweet image as the man looked like he was a shell of himself. He was frail and couldn’t move without assistance from someone. So frail that you were certain it wasn’t entirely the treatment that had caused it. 

It wasn’t unusual for the room to be cold. By now you had gotten into the habit of bringing a couple blankets and dressing warm for the long day. One or two for yourself and extra for your mom. 

“You sure you don’t have anything better to do today?” You half whispered to Jake who was sitting next to you reading an article in a worn Forbes magazine. 

He hummed and turned his head towards you before the question finally registered. He shook his head and closed the magazine but kept his pointer finger between the pages. Keeping his place. 

“Positive.” He sounded positive, but that didn’t stop you from feeling bad. Surely Jake Seresin had better things to do than sit around in a hospital with his fake fiancée while her mother got treatment for breast cancer. “It’s almost noon, we should eat something, you should eat something. Don’t think I didn’t notice you skipped breakfast.” Jake raised his eyebrows at you and you just rolled your eyes. 

You hardly ever ate on Chemo days. Your focus was more on your mom and it was hard to work up an appetite seeing her like this. Even if she was just asleep in a chair. Still you relented and took the card he had fished out of his wallet. His eyes followed you until he couldn’t see you anymore before he turned back to the magazine. 

“She’s a good girl,” your mother’s frail voice made Jake jump a bit. He hadn’t heard her talk much. A few words here and there. Then again, this was the most time he’d spent in her presence since you two had “been together”. “She deserves more than what she’s been given.”

He looked towards her, his green eyes softening at the sight of her. There was a weak but loving smile on her face and her eyes were half lidded. No doubt tired from the taxing treatment she was going through. It was something Jake hoped he never had to go through himself. Something he hoped that no one would ever have to go through, but life didn’t work that way. He made a mental note to donate a hefty chunk of money towards cancer research. It was the least he could do. 

“I thought you were asleep?” This time he fully put the magazine down, focusing his attention on your mom. 

“No,” she shook her head ever so slightly and chuckled just a bit. “I’m never fully asleep, I just want her to think so. It’s easier on her that way and on me. I love that girl but if I have to hear her ask if I’m okay every five minutes I’ll go insane.” You could go a little overboard with that. And you knew it, but she was your mom. How could you not constantly check in on her? For so long you had lived under the same roof with her. It had been easy to keep tabs on her and her health, now it was harder.

Jake let out a chuckle of his own. Before your mom had “fallen asleep” he was sure you had asked her that question at least ten times. So much that even he was tempted to curb it somehow, but he knew this had to be driving you crazy. That you were probably scrambling for some way to help in any way you could.

“I get it, though. First we lost her dad and then I got cancer. It’s been hard on her, but she’s always tried to act like she can take on the world. And she probably can,” the woman mused softly, “but she shouldn’t have to.” Her eyes got watery and Jake handed her a tissue, feeling his own heart clench. “Why are you doing this?” The question came out of left field. Jake wasn’t sure how much your mom knew, but it sounded like he was about to find out. The confused look on his face prompted your mom to expand on her question. “I mean why are you helping me? Helping her?” He supposed it was a fair question. 

Jake bit his lip, pondering it for a moment. The easy answer would be that it was mutually beneficial. That you were helping him just as much as he was helping you. And in the beginning of this that answer probably would have sufficed, but he knew there was more to it now. He just didn’t know how much more and he wasn’t sure what “more” entailed. 

Before he could get the chance to answer you showed back up. He only knew that because your mom had closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep just moments before the door to the room opened. 

“Alright so there was nothing good down there, Pizza that looked like it was at least a day old and dry chicken fingers so I ordered us food instead. Figured you wouldn’t mind?” You trailed off sheepishly and held his card out.

Jake just shook his head. “No, I don’t mind.” 

Really he didn’t. He would rather you spend the money on food you would actually eat versus waste it on gross food that might find its way back up later. You nodded your head in the direction of your mom, silently asking how she was doing. “She’s fine, been sleeping the whole time.” He lied through his teeth. No need to let you know that he had been talking about you with your mother. Even if it was nothing juicy. 

It was a little nice, talking to your mom for that tiny period of time. She let him have the tiniest sliver of information on you and he found himself wanting more conversations like that with her. If you weren’t going to open up to him maybe your mom would give him what he wanted to know. 

“You’re absolutely positive you want to be here?” You asked again.  “Ask me that one more time and I’m posting the security footage of you singing Hit Me Baby One More Time into a spatula on instagram.”

@love2write2626 @cherrycola27 @chaoticversion @3in1shampooconditionerbodywash @alldaysdreamers @sexytholland @mishala0505 @a-serene-place-to-be @emma8895eb @aemondssiut @averyhotchner @blairfox04 @realdirectionx @rintheemolion @xoxabs88xox @clancycucumber230 @inky-sun @ilovewhalesharks444 @gigisimsonmars @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog @bl6o6dy @potato-girl99981 @emorychase @hangmandruigandmav @boltgirl426 @misshoneypaper @starkleila @rae-you-gotta-be-kidding-me @rhirhikingston @alana4610 @mightiestheroes @likeit-or-leaveit @pono-pura-vida @eccentricnos

[nifflermini]

No, Really, how is ketchup made?

Author's Note: Just an idea that danced its way into my head. I just want to see if it works.

Warnings: None!

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"I have an idea." You announced plopping down at the lunch table. You pulled your hair out of its ponytail, grinning like a mad woman.

Bokuto stared at you, mouth about to take a bite of his sandwich. "Good or Bad?" He asked, forgetting his sandwich entirely.

I shrugged. "Who knows, but just meet me in the culinary classroom, kay?" He nodded, as you took a bite out of your apple.

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

Just like he promised, he met you right in front of the classroom. Usually, his memory is pretty bad. but you knew he'd remember this one because this is where we first met. "Hey hey hey! What was this idea of yours?" He asked and you smirked, shrugging my backpack off my shoulders, to get the whole reason for this little meet up.

"Do you know how ketchup is made Bo?" you asked, while unzipping your bag. It was quiet for a little bit, while you reached for the two food items hidden in your bag.

"Uh-stepping on tomatoes?" You smiled, hand grazing against a smooth surface, and pulled it out.

"While that's a great theory, I want to test it." You suggested, pulling out the second bag of tomatoes, smirking at him.

"How did you get those?"

My mom works at a restaurant, remember?" You smirked at him. "Are we gonna figure this out or not?" You asked walking near the cupboard where the food processor and the blender, quickly finding them and getting to work setting them up near the stove. You knew heat had something to do with it, but what else? You reached for the microwave, coming in contact with something warm, and looking up to find Bokuto doing the same. HIs face turned red.

"S-sorry." He mumbled, and you tilted your head, confused. Why was he blushing?

"It's fine! You can use it Bo, I forgot to smush my tomatoes anyway." You explained, turning back around to find a bowl. You were too busy blending the tomatoes to notice Bokuto staring at you with a lovesick smile on his face.

And both of you were too busy figuring out how ketchup was made to notice the bell for class had rung.

You two spent hours in the culinary lab trying to figure out how ketchup was made. stuffing tomatoes into blenders and mixing things with other things. You set a timer, to see if your latest attempt at ketchup was closer than the rest. Once it went off, you squealed, hopping a little.

"Bo! C'mon, come look!" At some point, your separate attempts had merged into one, and he bolted over to see if this one was any closer. The goop was smoother than the others, but still wasn't the same consistency. You pouted, turning my head to share your disappointment with Bo, but his face was way closer than you thought, and your cheeks heated up, as you lurched back, almost losing your balance.

Lucky you, he caught you minutes before you would've hit your head.

Unlucky you, at that exact moment, the door swung open to reveal the principal.

"What are you two doing in here?" You and Bokuto looked at each other, then back at the principal, starting to explain at the same time

"Well, you see, I wanted to know how ketchup was made-"

"I don't know how ketchup is made! Or how it works! Or why it exists-"

"So we smushed the tomatoes-"

"I mean, who decided we needed to put tomatoes on food, that's just a weird thought, right-"

"-and it was just something i thought about, and i had extra tomatoes-"

"And i just needed to know, why put them in packets, how did they even get in packets?"

"-Tomatoes can't taste that good, they just can't!"

"STOP!" You both shut up pretty quickly. "Clean this mess up, and then get to your club activities!" You winced. Had you boht missed the entire day? It was worth it to spend time with Bokuto, but you hadn't realized the time had passed so quickly.

"Neither of us heard the bells?"

Bokuto helped you to your feet, as you both rushed to clean up the mess you had unwittingly made.

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"So... you missed practice because you were on a date?" You shook your head, the words causing your stomach to do all kind of gymnastics as your face heated up. Yearbook was always fun, but it was filled with a lot of your friends. Most of which knew you like the back of their hand. The events that happened next were unsurprising.

"No, I was just hanging out with Bokuto, that's all-" You tried defending. But this time, no one was willing to put up with your BS.

"Oh, Bokuto, the one loud guy you always sit next to in the cafeteria?"

"Well-"

"Bokuto the guy we know good and well is one of your best friends because you never stop talking about him?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"Bokuto the guy that is one of the only reasons you check your phone?"

"..."

"...He's not the only reason..." You muttered.

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

Bokuto had been at practice for 10 minutes and his... everything was way better than usual.

"You're in a good mood." Akaashi noted, and Bokuto turned to face the setter, with a smile.

"Yeah, before this, I was with Y/n, and we were making ketchup, but it didn't look like ketchup, it looked more like tomato sauce, but we tried putting sugar in it and it didn't work. But that's okay, because Y/n was trying to reach the top shelf, because we were trying to put a little bit of salt in it, and that wasn't working, but I got to lift y/n up to reach the shelf!" Bokuto was smiling like a lovesick idiot, and the entire team exchanged knowing glances.

"What?" Bokuto asked after a few minutes of silence, looking around at everyone.

"When are you going to finally tell her you like her?" Akaashi deadpanned.

"..."

"..."

"....Huh?"

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Hello all! No, I'm not quite sure what this is, but this is very (VERY) loosely inspired by "Troublemaker" by Olly Murs

No there was not much thought put into this, but there was a lot of love, because it's Bokuto, how can i not love him?

Anyway, the point was to listen to the song four times, and then get a story out of it in those four loops. I might do this with some more characters, so leave some song suggestions, and I'll see what I can come up with!

Love you all, and have a great day!

[letsgetrowdy43]

Can you do ““My family thinks we are dating.” With Dylan duke and or Luke Hughes? Thanks!

A gentle kind of love

Being Luke’s cousin meant that not only was she destined to be attached to his hip the moment she entered university with him, but it also meant that the entire Umich hockey team came with him. Of course, being close with the team came with its perks, having an entire team of bodyguards and overprotective father figures being one, and unconditional friendships being another

Dylan always held a soft spot in her heart, he had become her second in command the moment they were introduced, the one who would help her team up against Luke when he was in need of some humbling, and the guy she would spill her guts to while her cousin was out of tune with her emotions.

“Yes Dylan I’m going to the family skate,” she said over the phone as she sat in the back of Jim and Ellen’s car, “Luke has your wallet in his hockey bag, remember last night when you said you were gonna forget it so he took it for you” Ellen smiled as she looked through the rearview mirror to the girl who laughed over the phone as Dylan refused to hang up, stressing over the upcoming game versus his brother and Ohio state university.  “Ok, k bye see you later tonight”

Jim cleared his throat as they continued on the highway, “So you and Dylans huh?” Ellen turned around in her seat to see her niece red in the face. “It’s not like that” “Are you sure, I get a call nearly every week from Luke complaining that you two are way too close” the woman mused as she left her to her thoughts

Sure Dylan and her had been close, and the lines between friends and something more had been blurred slightly, but there was no talk of romance between the two.

She sat in the back of the car spiralling as they pulled up to the stadium where the family skate and game would be held over the weekend, “Don’t forget love, we have dinner with the Dukes tonight after the skate and media stuff” Ellen smiled as she handed the girl the hockey bag full of hats, mats, and skates from the trunk.

“Come on Yn, stop whining,” Luca said as he stood behind the girl who was still very lacking in the skating department. “I look like a newborn baby deer,” she said looking down at her shaking legs, “just cause you guys practically live on the ice doesn’t mean I do too” “You’re best friends with an entire college hockey team, it just kinda seems like something that comes with the job” Rutger added as he pretended to push her over making her lose her balance and falling onto the ice, a smile on her face as Dylan extended his hand out for her to take.

“Just hold my hand I’m not gonna let you fall,” he said as they skated around the outdoor rink. “I just threw up in my mouth” Mackie whispered to Nolan. “Let him have his moment, well chirp him later”

“So you’re telling me that they aren’t together?” Dylan’s mom looked over to her son Tyler and Luke as they shook their heads, both of them clueless as to what was happening between the couple. “She was telling me in the car that they are just friends” Ellen shrugged as she finished tying up her skate, “I don’t believe it though”

The Duke and Hughes family left early from the event in order to make it to their reservation at a small restaurant not even ten minutes away. She sat in between Dylan and Luke as the two older women sat on the other side of the table, skeptically staring at the pair as they lowly talked in their own separate conversation from the rest of the group.

“Your mom is glaring at us” she whispered to him with a laugh as they looked over to Ellen and Ms. Duke who were pretending to stare at their menus “My family thinks we are dating” “Ellen asked me if we were earlier too” her cheeks flushed pink as he laughed.

Duker’s leg bounced as he stared at her flustered expression, “Im gonna ask something and don’t feel pressured at all to say yes” She nodded with a smile and turned back to face him, “Do you want to go out on a date when we get back to Ann Arbour?” He asked sweetly making a grin break out on her face “I would love that” she pecked him on the cheek as he looked away for a second

“I KNEW IT!”

[gingiesworld]

Best Friends Forever

Anon: Hello can I request Elizabeth Olsen x Male Reader?

Where Y/n and Lizzie already divorced for couple years, They stay civil for they daughter (Who around six – ten years old). But when Y/n start dating again Lizzie somehow don’t like Y/n partner even though she already engaged to other man. She keep trying to convince their daughter to telling her that Y/n partner is bad which Y/n daughter end up telling Y/n about Lizzie behaviour. Y/n of course decided to defend his partner from Lizzie but it lead to big argument. I leave to you what happened after the big argument either they make up or that argument just put big wall between them.

Elizabeth Olsen X Male Reader

Warnings : Angst

18+ MINORS DNI

Everyone who knew both Y/N and Elizabeth, knew of their marriage. It seemed like it was a happy marriage from the outside but there was a lot of resentment. Lizzie wasn’t entirely happy about being a teen mother although she was still able to finish college and pursue her dream of becoming an actress.

Even as they divorced, Y/N had also managed to open up his own restaurant, especially since it was always a dream of his. He thought it was always going to be just himself and their daughter, Lila. That was until he met Jennifer, she was also a divorcee with children. Although she was slightly older than Y/N, he always reassured her that he didn’t care.

Although Lizzie had also moved on and was engaged to Robbie Arnett, she had a distaste for Y/N’s relationship with Jennifer. She was always toxic towards her, giving snide comments even when she saw how good she was with Lila.

“Why did you leave her with Jennifer?” Lizzie questioned as Y/N had dropped Lila off.

“I had an emergency at the restaurant.” He told her honestly. “It’s just like you leaving her with Robbie when you have a long day on set.”

“No it isn’t.” Lizzie exclaimed as Y/N followed her through to the kitchen. “Robbie and I are engaged. You and her are just fooling around.”

“No we are not Elizabeth.” Y/N seethed as he glared at the woman he once loved. “We are in a steady relationship. She is amazing with Lila and so are her kids.”

“She is too old for you.” She told him as he just laughed at her.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better I would say that you are jealous.” He laughed as she just took a deep breath.

“Just don’t do it again.” She told him before he left. Heading straight to his restaurant, wondering were the woman he had once fell in love with had disappeared.

“Why do you hate Jenni?” Lila asked Lizzie as she just sighed.

“I don’t know.” Lizzie whispered. “I guess I used to think that he and I would be in it for life.”

“But you’re marrying Robbie and Dad wants to marry Jenni.” Lila told her as Lizzie’s heart dropped.

“What?” She questioned as Lila nodded.

“He’s picked out a ring and everything.” She told her mom. Every one of Lizzie’s dream of her and Y/N being grey and old side by side, all turned to dust.

Over time, Lizzie tried to turn Lila against Jenni, wanting to somehow push her away from Y/N.

“Lizzie, this is getting ridiculous.” Robbie told her in a tired tone.

“What?” She questioned him as he shook his head at her.

“I know you’re trying to push Jenni away so she leaves Y/N.” He told her. “And it is extremely childish.”

“He was never meant to move on.” Lizzie blurted out. “He said he loved me. There was no one like me.”

“You are engaged to me for crying out loud Elizabeth!” He yelled at her as there was a loud knocking on the door. Lizzie sighed as she went to open the door, only to be met by an angry Y/N.

“You have some fucking nerve Elizabeth.” He seethed as Robbie soon moved Lizzie to let him in.

“What happened?” Robbie asked as the three of them entered the living room.

“You have tried to turn Lila against Jenni.” Y/N seethed as Lizzie scoffed.

“Where is Lila?” She asked as Y/N just laughed.

“She is with Jenni.” Y/N told her. “Apologising for what you made her do.”

“I didn’t make her do anything.” Lizzie yelled as Y/N glared at her.

“What do you want from me Elizabeth? Do you want me to be lonely for the rest of my life?” He sighed as Lizzie watched his expression change to one of pain and exhaustion. “We are divorced, I am allowed to find happiness with another.”

“We were meant to be forever.” Lizzie told him as Robbie’s own heart broke.

“You have a fiancé, he is a great guy for both you and Lila. I plan on asking Jenni to marry me because I am in love with her.” Y/N told her. “I didn’t think I would be happy after you but I am. Jenni makes me extremely happy. She is amazing with Lila as is Robbie. Please just stop with this nonsense because I am over this.” Y/N moved to leave. “You have a lot of apologising to do Elizabeth, starting with Robbie, Lila and Jenni.” With that he left the couple alone.

“Robbie.” Lizzie started as he just shook his head at her.

“I think we need a break Liz.” He told her. “I want to be with you, so much but I don’t think you want to be with me.”

“I do.” Lizzie pleaded as he shook his head no.

“If you were certain, you wouldn’t have meddled in your ex husband’s current relationship.” He told her. “I am going to stay with Graham for a week or two and then we can evaluate were we are.” She could only watch as he left to pack a bag.

Over the upcoming weeks, Lizzie found herself missing Robbie and Y/N. Even though the two divorced and raised Lila together in different homes, he was always there for Lizzie too, but since he started a relationship with Jenni she was afraid she was losing him. But she never truly saw how happy she made him, how happy Lila was too, she had step sisters.

“Congratulations.” Lizzie told the two with a genuine smile. “And I am deeply sorry for how I have acted in the past.”

“That’s ok.” Jenni waved her off as she gave her a hug. “I know you worry about him but I love him. He is my savior.”

“He is that.” Lizzie smiled as she watched both Robbie and Y/N talk as they cooked together. A big family coming together. Lizzie and Y/N might not be meant to reach the end of the line together, but they are always meant to be best friends forever.

[ahundredtimesover]

Belong (3.5: Rewind) | MYG

Pairing: Yoongi x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: exes-to-lovers-to-exes-to-lovers; actress!OC x basketball coach!Yoongi; summer romance; “long” distance relationship; parallel timelines; angst, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, family drama, sport injury; dreams & moving away; implied depression; basketball and acting talk; 2014 and 2022 Yoongi; shy and nonchalant cocky whipped Yoongi; almost drowning, explicit sexual content (kissing, fingering, oral, penetrative sex) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 7.5k

Series Masterlist

Status: Complete

Series summary: Being an actor has always been your dream. Pursuing it meant many things - leaving the town where you grew up, distancing yourself from your family that had fallen apart, and saying goodbye to the man who made you feel what home was like. When you decide to finally return after being away for so long, you meet Min Yoongi again, and you’re reminded of the summer romance from 8 years ago with the college basketball superstar whose broken dream pushed you away. As you find yourself spending time with him, you’re left to wonder if love changes, if it gives second chances, or if it’s just another illusion that will hurt the both of you the second time around.

Listen to: Oceans Apart by Secret Nation; Let it Go by James Bay; Already Gone by Sleeping At Last; All I Want by Kodaline || Playlist 🎶

A/N: This one’s a pretty hard one. Please take care and reach out to anyone if it gets too much. So Far Away and Snooze would be good companions for this chapter as well.

7 years ago 

You stand in front of the mirror and gaze at the woman looking back at you. Donned in a blush dress, pearl earrings, and a cream-colored scarf as a headband on your hair, you think you look pretty great. Elegant is a word you could use; you always took after your mom’s style and people described her as such. Some of your instructors think the same, but all that matters is what one specific man thinks. 

Your phone beeps to tell you he’s arrived, so you grab your bags and head out the door. 

“Going out again?” Your father’s voice stops you, but you sense only curiosity in his tone. 

“Yup, and I’m sleeping over at Tae’s,” you lie; he’s the perfect alibi, really. “Bye!”

You turn away and skip outside, towards the car that’s parked across the street. Routinely, Yoongi drives away immediately in case your father decides to check who’s picking you up, and it’s on the first stoplight right as you exit your neighborhood that you turn to the man next to you and kiss his cheek. 

“Happy anniversary, baby,” you smile. 

Yoongi’s eyes trace your face and your body as he smiles back. “Happy anniversary, jagi. You look really beautiful.”

You feel the heat rush to your cheeks. Your boyfriend usually compliments you when his head’s buried in your neck since he tends to get shy, so when he says those words while he gazes at you, you can’t help but feel flustered, an effect he just has on you. 

It’s been a year since you both admitted your feelings for each other and you get to celebrate that today with a stay-in movie afternoon and dinner at the restaurant where he took you on that first fancy date. 

Yoongi says he was supposed to cook for you for lunch but decided instead to go to the cafe you went to after that spin-the-bottle make-out session. 

“It’s where it all started,” he says as he pulls up at the place. 

“Where it started was actually Jungkook’s apartment,” you correct him. 

“Technically, it started in the gym where we had our game,” he counters. 

“Right. Where you got hit by the ball because you were so smitten by me,” you tease. 

“Yah,” he pouts. “You have broken my trust because you told Taehyung about that.”

“It makes me giddy, I couldn’t help it,” you giggle. 

You go through lunch with your usual stories and banter and then head to his apartment, which looks much cozier than you remember it being 2 days ago when you were last here. There’s a vase with marigolds on the dining table, throw pillows on the floor, and comfy blankets on his tiny couch. There’s even a popcorn machine and mood lights that he got for the occasion.

“Baby, what’s all this?” You smile, pulling him close. 

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he shrugs. “Just thought I’d clean up a bit.”

“It’s perfect,” you say, embracing him for a deep kiss. 

You make yourself comfortable on the couch as you curl into him. You finally decide your choice of movie to be Love and Other Drugs, which makes you bawl your eyes out, and that’s followed by Yoongi’s choice of Love and Basketball, which makes him quite emotional. 

Once you’ve both sorted your feelings out and kissed until you ran out of breath, you head to the restaurant for dinner and eat something fancier than what you had the last time. When Yoongi asks for the bill, the server informs him that one Mr. Min has settled it. 

“My dad?” He wonders out loud. 

“Yes,” the server replies. “We just called him as instructed and it’s all been paid for. He wishes both of you a happy anniversary.”

Yoongi smiles to himself and sends a message to his old man. A simple thank you would do even if there’s more for him to say. 

“That’s so sweet,” you gush. “I’ll visit him tomorrow and give him the biggest hug. I just love how supportive he is.”

Yoongi agrees and thinks of the times his dad let him off work early or not at all to be with you when you’d visit or when he’d go to Seoul for you. He remembers the small smiles and words of encouragement when you’re mentioned. He remembers all the ways his dad has shown that he’s happy for his son who’s found someone who loves him the way you do. Yet even then, there’s a bit of sadness at the thought. 

“He’s like that with my brother and his girlfriend, too,” Yoongi shares. “I think he’s just happy that we get to have a relationship like this, you know? Maybe it reminds him of what he lost. He constantly tells us not to screw it up.”

His mom grew up at a farm and worked hard at their family’s business. But she always dreamed of the big city life as a career woman and always wanted to be somewhere at the center of things. She wanted the fast pace and glitz and glamor and little luxuries that she couldn’t have here. She put those desires on hold when she met his dad; fell in love immediately and made a life here that seemed to override whatever dreams she had. 

He did his best - worked extremely hard at the shop, built her a house she wanted, took her to Seoul regularly for the thrill she sought. She did his best, too - returned his love and affection, took care of the family they created, and stayed every time he asked her to, even if she wanted more. He didn’t want to let go of his life here. Neither did he want to lose her, but he eventually did, after the last time he asked her to stay and she said she no longer couldn’t.

Yoongi doesn’t know why his dad didn’t do more, but then again, he thinks he shouldn’t have asked her to stay that first time. If she wanted him at the end of it all, then losing her temporarily would’ve been better than trapping her in this life where she wasn’t completely happy. Being with someone while dreaming of another - better - life just isn’t sustainable, and Yoongi wishes he was old enough to tell that to his old man. 

“Well, if we’re adding to your dad’s joy, then that's wonderful,” you say. “At least we’re not the only ones happy.”

You finish the sumptuous meal and head back to Yoongi’s apartment to continue the celebration. There’s a gift you want to give, you say, and he says that so does he. 

You sit on the floor with him and retrieve the Yamazaki whiskey from your bag to his confusion then delight, saying that you snuck it out of your dad’s liquor cabinet and it’s one of many. 

“This isn’t the gift though,” you say, as he pours each of you a glass. “This is.”

He opens the box that you hand him and softly smiles. He stares at it for a while before feeling the material, smelling it, and then unfolding it. 

It’s the vintage Allen Iverson jersey he said he’s been saving up for, and you’re glad that your few months’ salary from acting and being the assistant to the production assistant of the show you did an extra for were enough to afford this. The way his fingers trace the threading and the hem tells you he likes it. 

“I love it when you talk about basketball even if I don’t always understand it,” you smile. “I hope you keep sharing it with me.”

“Thank you, jagi,” he whispers, feeling like there’s more to say that he can’t find words for, so he kisses you tenderly instead. He knows he’ll be wearing this as often as possible. “Now, I went a bit personal with my gift,” he says, placing a box on your lap. 

You excitedly open it to find a floral silk scarf that looks incredibly elegant, and you squeal in joy at how pretty it looks. 

“Baby, this is so beautiful. I’ve been looking for something like this.”

“Good,” he giggles. “There’s one more thing, though.”

You remove wrapping paper and see a notebook underneath. The cover looks pretty ordinary, but you feel the tears form once you flip through the pages. 

It’s like his diary for the past year, with as little as one-sentence entries to as long as a whole page. 

We watched A Moment to Remember for the 5th time and she cried again. Wish I got to hug her 

She fell asleep on video call and talked in her sleep. Cute 

She spent our whole drive to Busan talking. Some stories she’s told me already but it’s okay. I can listen to her talk everyday and not get bored 

I arrived at her apartment late and she was upset with me even though she kept denying it. I knew because she didn’t kiss me until the second hour. But I should’ve kissed her sooner 

She rushed from her filming to get to my graduation on time. I wish I knew the right words to express how much it meant to me. I’ll always remember it 

I told her I love her first and she giggled. Yah, I couldn’t stop smiling! 

You use the notebook to cover your tear-stained face; you’re ugly crying by now and you’re too shy to show him, but he’s why you’re like this in the first place. 

“Jagi, that gift is supposed to make you laugh because it’s cringey,” he says, pulling your arm so he could see you. “Is it really that embarrassing?”

“What are you saying?” You cry some more. “It’s the sweetest thing ever. Baby, you don’t tell me these things.”

“Exactly,” he chuckles. “I get shy and weirded out so I just write them down. Being away from you is hard and I don’t know if I get to express enough when we’re apart and even when you’re here, so… yeah.”

“Baby, you express enough in other ways,” you assure him. “But this is so, so special. I will read this everyday and imagine it in your voice and your soft, shy smile.”

Yoongi groans. “Just don’t show Taehyung, okay? That’s a super-secret, for-your-eyes-only, once-in-a-lifetime thing.”

You laugh at the way he pouts, and it prompts you to position yourself on his lap and wrap your arms around his neck.

“You won’t be doing this for our second anniversary?” You ask. 

“Well, my plan is to say more this time,” he mumbles, “and not just write them. I… I know you need to hear the words, too.”

“However you want to say them is however I need to know them,” you respond, kissing him deeply. “You love me, that’s what matters. Whether I hear it or read it, as long as I feel it,” you continue. 

You nibble his lip as the tension starts to build. With desire in your eyes, you kiss his cheek down to his jaw. “And I really wanna feel it.”

The words affect Yoongi immediately, and he pushes against your clothed cunt to tease. “Well, do you feel it?”

You giggle your yes in his ear, a sweet sound he likes hearing no matter how turned on he is. 

Yoongi lays you on the floor, ensuring there’s a blanket to rest your head on. Propped up on one arm, he kisses you, soft and teasing the way he likes, while he unbuttons your dress. He cups your cheek like he always does, his thumb detouring to your mouth for you to suck gently, and his dick throbs at the sight. But he pushes on - pulling down your bra, flicking your nipple, and smirking when your back arches already when he hasn’t even done that much yet. 

His fingers reach your sopping cunt and they play you like his favorite game - skillfully, confidently, revealing that cockiness that only comes out when he does something he knows he’s good at. 

You smile through the pleasure, pulling him for a kiss in between your moans. You try to reach for his dick, mumbling how you want it in your mouth so he switches positions, kneeling to your side to be swallowed by you while still pleasuring you with his hand. 

The sounds you make are obscene while he maintains his groans and hushed curses. He just wants to ingrain this image in his mind to remind him of how perfect you are for each other. The way you make each other feel isn’t something that can be replicated. Even with barely any words, he knows that you know how he feels, especially once he shifts again to enter inside you now, letting you feel how hard you’ve made him. 

It’s slow but intentional at first. He wants it intimate, with him hovering over you and kissing down your jaw. But as your moans intensify, so does his pleasure, so he gets on his knees and pulls your legs apart, giving him the perfect angle to thrust into you roughly. 

“Fuck, baby, ye—” you keen. “Don’t stop. Fuck, don’t stop.”

Yoongi doesn’t. He lets himself get lost in the feel and sound of you, gripping your waist as he pushes deeper and deeper. Your shaking legs signal that it’s close to too much, and with a few flicks of your nub, you come crashing, and at your pleas for him to come with you, he crashes as well.

He lays next to your side and pulls you in his arms. 

“Oh, baby. You’re such a freaky romantic,” you tease, cupping his cheek this time and planting a soft kiss on his lips.

His look softens. “Day 1, year 2. We came so hard and then she giggled and kissed me,” he narrates, causing you to laugh again. “She’s so adorable when she looks so soft. I love her so much.”

Summer ends too soon for you. By the middle of it, there were less of the lazy days at Yoongi’s apartment and more of the cafe runs before his training with a developmental team. It’s the usual next step, as the draft for the professional teams is still a few months from now, and this is where players get scouted. It’s basically their time to show the big league what they’re made of; the media hypes the players up as well and that adds to the anticipation of their eventual debut on the national stage. 

Your support for Yoongi didn’t waver. Once he passed the tryout for the best team in the area, he spent a lot of time on the court. You’d wake up to an empty bed next to you because he’s off to morning training; some afternoons were spent in another city where the game was being held. But whenever he was back at home with you, it was all cuddles and kisses and inside stories and excitement from him.

There’s this joy he has whenever he plays. It’s not as obvious because unlike his teammates, Yoongi doesn’t react much. But since you watch him and not really the game, you notice how he always looks around the court before every match. You see the tiniest of smiles whenever he makes a shot or a good pass. You feel his focus when he’s seated on the bench, watching his teammates and then whispering something to them after. 

He was their college team’s captain not because he was the most vocal, but because he was the most observant. He knew every team member’s individual strengths and highlighted those, and this time was no different. He always said he’s a student of the game and would spend entire days just watching play-by-plays and analyses. 

But you enjoyed every day you got to watch him train or play. You snuck in a smirk or two when you’d caught his attention, and he took his revenge by gazing at you after a made-shot until you felt hot all over. He really is a confident one when he’s on the court. 

You left in tears as you did the year before. You knew it was gonna be harder this time - he’d be more focused with training and getting drafted while you’d be in your final year of university. But you promised you’d still see each other as much as you could and you stayed true to that.

Months pass and though less frequent and shorter, the visits continue. So do the regular calls and texts, even if your exhaustion shows more and his frustration over losses hits harder. But the care and love remain.

He assures you of being fully with you after he gets drafted - wherever that may be; he said he hopes he’ll be based in Seoul - and you assure him the same after you graduate. The life you never even thought you’d want is slowly shaping up. You imagine the nice house in the big city and days of his basketball games and your movies. You imagine the mornings and evenings together, all the talks and the lovemaking, and all the hurt from your past being let go. 

It was all good until it wasn’t. All it took was one bad fall, a broken kneecap, and a shattered dream to change everything.

6.5 years ago 

The bell over the door rings, signaling a customer, and Yoongi smiles at the sight of you entering.

“Hey,” you greet, kissing him as you walk behind the counter, careful not to hit his casted knee. “I’m sorry I’m late. The agents took a while to inform us on who got the extras for this series. Couldn’t leave until then. Are you okay?”

“Did you get a role?” He asks, wanting to know how you are instead of him constantly saying how he’s been, which is pretty much the same this past week.

It’s been 3 months since the injury. He got a steal and went for a fast break, got inadvertently hit by an opponent, and then fell on his knee. It was a serious one, he’d been told; it would require weeks of bed rest and more of physical therapy. The mental side of it wasn’t something the doctor warned him about, though, and Yoongi thinks it’s been the worst.

He spent \days in bed with nothing to do, wishing he was on the court to train and play as draft day neared. He had this crazy thought that he’d still make it on time, but when his coach visited one day and told him bluntly - as Yoongi requested - that no professional teams are willing to contract an injured player, he felt his life crash down. It didn’t help to learn that the Seoul Thunders planned on signing him; that would’ve been the perfect path for him so he could be with you. 

He moved back with his dad, a knot forming in his heart every time because Yoongi doesn’t like being taken care of, especially when as an adult, he feels like it’s his job to watch over his old man. 

He loathed himself for not being there for you, too. Agencies usually start getting senior acting students, and you got rejected from your first 4 choices. You tried to mask your dejection during your video calls, asking instead how he’s been doing. He shrugged things off, saying he was okay, the same thing you were doing, and he felt that both of you were just trying to protect the other, or even yourselves, knowing that the comfort you both badly needed wasn’t an arm’s reach away. 

When you finally got that call from a small agency, which you became ecstatic about after learning that they really seemed to care about their talents, he celebrated with you through the screen. He felt you play it down, though, and he knew you didn’t want him to feel bad. The restrained smiles hurt him more than he could say, though, and he wanted badly to just see your joy again.

“I got a role, just a small one,” you smile now. “And you, Mr., why are you out of the house? Being in a cast and cleared to move doesn’t mean you should be doing it all day.”

Your crossed arms and pouty face endears him, and he can’t help but chuckle. 

“I’ve been stuck in my old room for months, jagi. I’m sick of the bed and staring at the NBA posters on my wall and all the awards I’ve won,” he says, his voice and his face falling. “It’s… it’s not a good place to be.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” you say, kissing his hand. 

The front door opens and Mr. Min enters, who’s just as surprised to see his son manning the shop. 

“What are you doing here!” He scolds. “You’re supposed to be resting at home!”

“I’m trying to get the business going so we could earn and pay for my medical bills,” Yoongi answers, his face hardening now at the reminder of the sacrifices of his dad just so he could get the best care. 

The developmental team and the insurance could only cover so much. Jungkook and Namjoon even gathered their friends to raise funds just to help, and much as Yoongi didn’t want to accept it, he knew rejecting the offer would bury his dad further in debt.

“That isn’t your job, son,” Mr. Min counters. “It’s mine.”

“It is, after I made that fast break knowing I’d get fouled. It was unnecessary. I shouldn’t have.”

“It’s a play you’ve done so many times before. You wouldn’t have known how it would end. There’s no one to blame for this,” his dad huffs.

You can tell this conversation has happened before, and as you look at Yoongi’s dejected eyes, you know that he’s feeling much more than he’s been telling you, and you curse at yourself for being too tired and preoccupied to see behind his smiles. 

“I just…” he starts, then shakes his head. “I just wanna do something else that isn’t lying down and feeling sorry for myself. I need to be productive. I’m just sitting here on the counter; I can stay here while you work on some pieces.”

“Fine,” his dad sighs. “But you’re off by 5.”

You stay with Yoongi until then, talking about how your days have been. He insists you tell him stories and you do, indulging him for now. Mr. Min drives both of you to their house and prepares dinner, and you notice that as time passes, Yoongi gets more quiet.

You remember the date and your heart breaks for him even more.

“Mr. Min, I’m sorry to ask but is it okay if I stay with Yoongi tonight?” You say, as you help him clean up in the kitchen. “It’s draft night and I don’t want him to be alone.”

The man stops his movements and glances at his son whose eyes that have lost the life in them stare at the ceiling. As a father, there’s no such pain like this. He thought that witnessing his sons lose their playfulness after he couldn’t get their mother to stay was hard enough, but it wasn’t as painful as seeing his child lose his drive and passion over a crushed dream. He knows there’s not much he can do but you do, so he agrees.

“Of course, my dear,” he smiles sadly. “Thank you for being patient with him. I know it hasn’t always been easy.”

“It’s all I can do,” you hum. “I just wish he doesn’t keep all the pain to himself.”

“I remind him that he shouldn’t, but it’s something he just does,” Mr. Min sighs. “Just give him some more time.”

“I will,” you nod, walking back to your boyfriend who smiles faintly when you say you’ll be staying the night. 

You watch a rom-com and curl into him the entire time, laughing against his chest, intertwining your fingers with his, and nuzzling his neck to give him some form of comfort and distraction from what’s going on in some hall in Seoul. Wrapped in his arms as you prepare to sleep, you whisper words of love and encouragement, relaying what his dad had told you - that it isn’t the end, that he’s too young to think it is, that he has time after he recovers, and that he’ll be back strong soon enough.

Yoongi hums, kissing your forehead to tell you that he appreciates your positivity, that he wants to believe in your words, that your love has been the only light during these past 3 months of darkness. He lets your soft breaths sing him to sleep and he kisses you again - in apology this time, for keeping all his pain from you, for letting you see him suffer, for not loving you as he should, and for thinking that despite all the support you’re giving him, he’s not quite sure how to get through all this.

6 years ago 

The pain from a broken dream is something that’s hard to comprehend. You tried to understand it once, when your mom told you about her own injury that had her retire from ballet early. It wasn’t just the physical pain, she said; the way the heart and soul hurt is indescribable. It wasn’t as simple as trying again after recovering; the fear of a re-injury is paralyzing, the missed opportunities are haunting, and the unwanted encouragement was jarring. 

“It crushes something inside of you and you’re just lost,” she told you. 

You think about her words as you look around Yoongi’s room, void of the love for the sport that used to burst out of him. You’ve just arrived from Seoul after a day of celebrations after your graduation yesterday, a milestone that your boyfriend wasn’t a part of because he hadn’t been feeling well; he’ll celebrate with you back home where it’s just the both of you, he’d said, not feeling like he’s ready to be around other people.

He's been feeling that since the injury, you sigh to yourself. Even after he removed the cast and could walk and run again, you two have barely gone out of the house every time you’ve visited, which is almost every week. Never mind the auditions you missed and the late nights; you had to go see him every time because he couldn’t, and you’re not sure if he was more upset that he’s not able to go to you, or that you were the one who had to see him every time. You can’t really tell; Yoongi hasn’t been open and expressive in a while.

The walls are now bare, with tape markings from the posters that were once displayed. There’s a trash bag next to his bin, and you find all his trophies and medals thrown inside. You fold the clothes on his bed and put them in his cabinet, finding that all his school and NBA jerseys are messily placed at the back, including the Allen Iverson one that you gifted him over a year ago, the one he once wore almost everyday.

“You don’t need to do that,” he hums, closing his closet door. “It’s fine.”

“Is it?” You bravely ask. “Are you?”

“I don’t know how else I can answer that differently from the way I did last week, or the week before that, and before that,” he says too dryly. “You ask every time and I answer the same way.”

Yoongi watches your eyes lose their sparkle that was already faint in the first place. It’s been like that for a while. He supposes it’s the exhaustion from having to take the long trip every weekend to see him; once, you even came here for just a day because you learned he had a breakdown and wouldn’t stop crying. He doesn’t tell you that it still happens every few days, knowing that it would worry you even more. 

You’re also probably just tired of having to deal with him - of missing out on the little things that he used to pick up so easily, of not telling you much about his empty, monotonous days, of not initiating or barely returning your affection. He can’t blame you, and though he knows of the extent of your love that would weather all this for and with him, he also knows you don’t deserve this broken version of the man who’s been unable to love you the way you’ve been needing him to. 

It wasn’t always like this. He was optimistic at one point, but the hope of getting back on the court slowly faded when the healing process took longer than expected, as the presence of his friends and family became too suffocating, as the love he once had for the sport turned into fear. 

He was cleared to move around and do light physical activities the other day and he decided to head to his favorite court at the park for a shoot around. Everything was unfamiliar. The feel of the ball in his hand didn’t feel the same, the movement of his legs were off, the open space made him claustrophobic. 

But he pushed through. He tried to take shots but would freeze whenever he had to jump. It’s like he couldn’t move, and that’s when he knew that the fear had taken over - he’s afraid he’s no longer the same, that he’ll get injured again, that the sport he committed himself to no longer has space in its world for him. 

The breakdown wasn’t intense like the first few times. It was silent but heavy, controlling his limbs to go back to his house, rip the posters from his wall, throw all his trophies in a trash bag, and hide everything else that reminded him of basketball. He slept well that night, thinking that it’s how it is to let go of a dream, but he woke up the next day feeling all the pain and fear and regret and sadness over something he’d lost, and all he wanted was to be able to hold you.

But he’s hurting you and he knows it, and he doesn’t know how to stop. He doesn’t know how all the broken parts of him could comfort and love you when he’s hurting himself. He doesn’t know how his broken dream could support you. You loved him for his passion, for his kindness, for the way he looked at life; he doesn’t know what’s left after all of those have gone. 

“I’m sorry, I just don’t really know what to say,” he continues after the tense silence. “But you’re here and we’re celebrating your graduation. This is all about you. I had food delivered. It should arrive soon, let’s go.”

“Okay,” you whisper, turning away and walking ahead. 

He sees you try to engage but your smile fades quickly. You feel distant at night when you don’t curl into his body like you normally do and he knows why, as he sees through the light from outside - you’re crying in your sleep, and for the first time, he doesn’t think he’s enough to make all your hurt go away. 

The next few weeks fly by in a blur. After the trip back home where you tried to celebrate your graduation with Yoongi, only to feel helpless at not being able to comfort him like you used to, you’re unable to visit until the next month. The roles you’ve been trying to scoop up just to get exposure and build networks have been taking much of your time, including the hostess job at a restaurant that you decided to take just so you could pay the bills.

Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind though; he doesn’t look for you the way he used to. You’re unsure if it’s the time spent apart, if it’s him getting tired with this arrangement, or if it’s that part of him that’s still suffering that’s why your relationship is suffering, too.

Much as you want to just confront him about how everything’s affected the both of you, he doesn’t seem to be open. He’s detached most times, disinterested in what’s going on in either of your lives, and just drained of energy. It’s hurting you more than you’d like to admit because this can't possibly be more difficult for you than it is for him. 

So you keep it all in - how you miss his smile and his kisses, how you wish he could let you share his pain, how you want to just pause your life in Seoul so you could be with him until he’s better, until he’s able to love himself again, until he can love you again the way he used to.

You cry on the morning that his dad calls to tell you that he’d found Yoongi at 3AM, asleep in his car that was parked near the court where he used to play. Mr. Min had been so worried and drove around town to find his son who wasn’t picking up his phone, and Yoongi had only muttered an apology and barely spoke after they got home. 

You take the first train you could back to Daegu, rushing to his room once you arrive. You hug him tightly, tempted to express all your anger and disappointment and apology and desperation over how things have been for him and for both of you. 

“Talk to me,” you beg, looking at him with tears in your eyes. “Baby, talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. It’s been hard tiptoeing around you, guessing what you’re feeling and not knowing how to comfort you. Let me know how I can help.”

Yoongi merely looks away, seeming as if even as you plead for him to let you in, he just doesn’t want to. 

The silence is deafening; it never felt this heavy, this scary, nor this painful. 

“How did it get so hard to love you?” You finally cry out, feeling your heart burst out of your chest at the words that have been swimming in your head. 

You never thought it would ever get this bad. You know he needs you and you’re willing to be there even if there’s so little of you to give, but the distance has gotten too much; no matter how hard you reach your hand, he’s just not willing to take it. 

“Then stop,” he says pointedly, surprising you. “You’re not the only one having a hard time.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

He does, in ways he can’t explain. Maybe in ways you won’t ever understand. It’s hard to love someone when he knows he’s lost himself; it’s not easy to believe he still deserves you when he can’t give you everything you deserve. 

“It’s hard but you still do. You still love me, I know it,” you argue. 

Yoongi looks away. That’s how you know you’re right. It’s in the longing in his eyes that he doesn’t want you to see. His quivering lips tell you he’s holding back, that there’s more of that pain in the rubble of the dream that was once so strong and so real. 

“This hasn’t been working out,” he says, a thought you’d only let live in your head for fear that voicing it out would signal that you’re giving up on a love that’s meant the world to you. “It’s a miracle we even made it this long after what happened. I had plans for us - playing for a team, living with you, sustaining us… But all that’s gone down the drain and I can’t… I can’t keep living like this - being so far from you, worrying about you worrying about me, waiting for the day that I’ll get over myself just so I could give you a fraction of what you give me. The distance has just made everything so fucking hard.”

“So ask me to stay,” you tell him, walking towards him so he could see in your eyes how serious you are, that you’re willing to give things up for him so you could love him better, so that could make him heal faster. “Let me stay here with you. Let me be with you.”

Yoongi gazes back at you and so many memories flood his mind.

He remembers the first time. The first conversation he’d overheard when his dad asked his mother to stay. And how she did. 

He remembers the second time and the third. 

He remembers how the joy was fleeting, and how miserable she looked days later, like something was missing. Like the people in the home they built stopped being enough. 

And he remembers the last time - the last time his dad asked her to stay, and how for the first time, she said no, and she took her bags and walked out the door. Yoongi remembers the tears in her eyes and her whispered apology, but that she looked like something he’d never seen until that day. That day, she looked free. 

“I can’t ask you that,” he says in a hushed tone as he looks away, like the words aren’t his, like the words hurt just as much. “I can’t ask you to stay. I won’t let you.”

“But you’re here. I belong where you are.”

“Not here. You never belonged here.”

“If you think that pretending you don’t want me anymore will convince me that you don’t, then you’re wrong. I know that’s not true. Just ask me to stay. I need to hear that you want me to stay.”

“I’m not pretending. I do want you. So much. But so will the rest of the world, and that’s what you deserve,” he answers. “There’s nothing for you here, ___. One day, I’ll stop being enough and it will be too late.”

“You don’t know that,” you insist.

“I do.”

“I’m not your mother, Yoongi. And you’re not your dad.”

“Exactly. You dream of something more than just living in the big city. You dream of something you can and you will achieve because you’re destined for it. You’re not her. And I’m not him. Because I’d never ask you to give up anything to keep you here.”

“Then come with me,” you plead. “Seoul is big enough for the both of us.”

“It is. But you’ll be bigger,” he says, cupping your cheek now. “You belong there while I… I have my own broken dreams that I need to piece back together. And I can only do that here. I won’t let them hurt you like they’re hurting me. I can’t love you right with the broken parts of me. So please, ___. Don’t stay. You and I both know you won’t be happy here.”

You remember your mom’s words as she described what emptiness felt like after she stopped dancing. Not only did she lose her capability but she lost her drive, too; she lost herself in the pain of it all. And that haunted her. It was like a ghost that she let live with her even after you and your sisters came along, and you all had to suffer because she forced herself to be okay and love the people around her even if everything else hurt.

You’ll never know what it feels like but you understand. And so you concede, dropping your head to rest on his chest and hugging him as you sob.

“I’m so sorry, jagi,” he whispers in your ear. “I thought I was strong enough for this but I’m not. What’s left of me just can’t… it just can’t love you the same way anymore.”

You hold onto him tighter in response, not able to say just how much it hurts, but that you’ll suffer through it on your own and let him go like he wants. 

Maybe this is what he needs. And loving him the way you do, maybe giving him up is how you could love him even more. 

5 years ago 

The start of spring usually brings with it new beginnings, with the colors coming back and the sun shining a lot brighter this time. You’re finally able to take a day off from your hostess job at the restaurant after working there for 6 days, with your last acting gig having wrapped up just last week. It’s still tough starting out, and while your extra role had you in ⅔ of the season’s episodes, it’s still nowhere near the break you badly need.

You’re looking forward to today though, as Jungkook and Namjoon promised to treat you to a fancy lunch after their game against each other; they were drafted by the Seoul and Incheon developmental basketball teams respectively, in time for the draft in a few months. You’ve seen them at least 3 times since they both moved out of Daegu, and every time has been full of laughter, with both of them asking to be set up with your actor friends.

The topic of Yoong still comes up, with you asking how he’s been doing. He’s been fine, they say. He showed up at their graduation and joined the celebration after they got drafted. It’s a far cry to how their captain was not long ago - distant, angry, and completely rid of anything that reminded him of the sport. 

Both men show up at the restaurant with their usual smiles, and after ordering so much food that you wouldn’t have been able to afford, you have your usual chat - about life back in Daegu, about your friends, and about basketball.

“And Yoongi?” You ask. “Is he still doing okay?”

Jungkook blinks at you repeatedly before nodding and downing his soda. “Uh-uh,” he hums. 

He doesn’t follow it up and instead nudges Namjoon, who adds that yes, their captain is doing better; they visited him the other month after they both went home for the weekend. 

You eye both men as they hyper focus on their food and try to change the subject.

“You’re both terrible liars, you know that, right?” You frown at them. “I know we’ve been broken up a while but I’d still appreciate it if you told me how he’s really doing. Is… is he feeling down again? Did something happen? Is it his dad?”

“No. Yoongi’s, uh,” Namjoon sighs. “He’s doing really well, ___. He’s just…”

“Namjoon,” you huff, “you’re scaring me.”

“He has a girlfriend,” Jungkook blurts, earning him a shove from his friend.

“You could’ve softened the blow,” Namjoon groans.

“You were stuttering,” Jungkook argues. He turns to you and gives you a sad look. “It’s… it’s been going for like, a few months. She’s a local musician and she’s nice. She seems to be treating him well. I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Hey, nothing to apologize for,” you smile, meaning it. “As long as he’s doing okay, though, right? And I’m really glad that he is.”

The men sigh in relief, perhaps thinking you’d take the news worse than this. 

You try to maintain your composure and control the tears that are about to fall as the meal goes on, a skill you’re close to mastering. You’ve wanted nothing more than for Yoongi to heal and feel alive again and he seems to be; maybe finding someone who could be there for him physically and emotionally was what he really needed. Clearly, that wasn’t you. And clearly, it wouldn’t take long for him to realize that. You have no doubt that your breakup hurt him, but you also didn’t think he’d move on from it like this and this soon, considering how it ended. 

Hoseok, your agent, calls and cuts your lunch short, as he says he got to book you a walk-in audition for a supporting role in a mini-series, with the directors wanting someone new and having a certain innocent, youthful look about them.

You bid your friends goodbye, with them hugging you a little more tightly than earlier, saying that they wish you all the happiness in the world and that maybe, this audition will get you closer to what you’ve always wanted. 

You wait a few hours for your turn to audition, reining in all your emotions so you could translate it during your few minutes of time in front of the panel. You’re not sure if it’s the best thing for your heart that the scene is one where you’re watching the man you want to be with be with someone else, but after you put in your all and notice the small smile of one of the woman in front of you, you think that maybe allowing yourself to be this vulnerable wasn’t so bad.

Hoseok treats you to a late dinner and tells you that it seemed like you did well. Maybe the payoff to the hurt from today will materialize one day, maybe it won’t. But nothing changes the way your heart breaks at the thought of Yoongi moving on. 

You cry yourself to bed and decide that it’s time for you to move on, too. You wake up the next morning and tear the photo of the both of you that’s still on your bedside. 

What’s left of you has nothing left for him, too. You hope you’ll get over this soon enough.

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[notesfromthepalace]

The Exclusive 2 for 2

Hello Sissy Poohs!

I know I need to be better about blogging but chilllllllle, between becoming a full time student, being a hot puppy mom, trophy girlfriend (just playing, but for real, I look good), and a better gym babe, not only am I tired, I'm actually super busy.

But as I said about two weeks ago, your favorite Sissy Pooh is back from being on Holiday in Miami.

Side note: after going to Miami, outside of a family trip, Miami is beautiful and we will be making multiple trips yearly.

While we were in Miami (or Fort Lauderdale), we went to a restaurant in Las Olas beach on our first double together.

I believe I have mentioned that I am Haitian and my boyfriend is Ghanian. One of his closest friends in South Beach is also Ghanian and dating a Haitian woman as well. What are the odds, right?

So we went to this Japanese styled restaurant, and when I say ambiance. The restaurant is called Takato, please check it out ladies.

What we enjoyed about it, as two former club goers (before we met each other) was the music, the low lights, open bar - it gave lounge vibe without all of the hookah and rift raft. Very classy, very exclusive, very expensive.

And it wasn't awkward at all. We all talked as a group, then the men left to go speak on the balcony while me and the other woman sat at the table and talked. I believe they started dating before we did, but my man and I moved in with one another much sooner.

We talked about expectations and speaking with our families because the Haitian parents don't like that. But it was an enjoyable experience.

The first question she asked me was how did I tell my family without it being a huge ordeal. I told her "Hold your horses, sissy pooh. This is not a familial matter, rather a parental matter".

In Haitian culture, your business is everyone's business. So I have learned to remove myself from conversations, group chats, video calls, etc, because the only person I really owe in an explanation to when it comes to my whereabouts is my mother. Don't get me wrong, my mother and I have come a long way when it comes to how I choose to share the more personal and intimate details of my life, but I think we are at a point where she respects it now. So I told her, I talked to my mom separately to let her know that she and my dad raised a very smart daughter and they did a good job (you have to gas them up in the beginning before dropping the bomb) and that we have plans to get engaged and married (which we have both conveyed to both of the parental entities on both sides of this relationship), and this is what works for us. My mother took it rather well, like I know she doe not agree with it, but I also know she would rather know where I am than be kept in the dark.

Her other concern was just the expectations. And I told her that this is the only man I have lived with and it's not difficult, it's just different. But this is where grace and patience comes in.

Overall, I liked homegirl, and that will not be our last double date as a couple. We also exchanged instagrams as well.

Back to the evening at hand: the restaurant, the food, the music, me, was marvelous. The conversations between both couples was great and it was nice to meet a young woman who is also in a serious relationship on the precipice of an engagement and marriage. I know I bring that up a lot, but something that I didn't realize with prioritizing my love life and heading towards a forever over a dating roster, as a young woman, it can be lonely too.

Sometimes I hold back on what I talk about with my girlfriends because I am the only one in this era that I am in, not because I don't trust them, but I don't want to sound like I am bragging or that I am not considerate of their situations. But I would like to talk about relationship stuff with girlies, not my deep business, but gift ideas, home ideas, trip ideas, double dates, etc.

Then we went to a rooftop bar where my man and I realized, we don't like places that are too spicy with too many people. We're on that out of sight out of mind, exclusive places. But overall it was a great night.

On our last day, we went to the airport and went to, I believe it was the sky lounge, due to us both having AMEX Platinum cards. It was nice, quiet, and comfortable. I refrained from taking my phone out to record content because something else I have realized, the more exclusive the area, the more ridiculous you look bringing your phone out to take pictures and videos. People purchase memberships into certain places for the exclusivity and to not see that. The sight of the calmness humbled me very quickly. So I enjoyed my brunch and coffee while he enjoyed brunch and his Old Fashioned.

Miami was fun, having an Amex is fun, my life is fun, But God is greater and the reason why my life is fun.

More of my adventures coming soon Sissy Poohs.

With Love,

Sarah Chanel

[meku95]

Season 2 part 3 - Mahou Shoujo AU

After a while struggling and living on the base, our dear Margaret decides to go for a walk alone on her own, seeing the city where she lives, she had never been alone. The air of the Halloween season is coming.

Until she notices the presence of someone, a very familiar horse, is Atlas, searching among the people until their looks collide, she could not move, her love questioned, and the famous anti-hero of the city. Letting him approach until he was in front of it, could notice nervous by his way of speaking, but since she could not deny, is worried about him, so he just took her to a restaurant, very gentlemanly, and starts chatting, where Atlas reveals everything and because of his way of acting. . Atlas' mother gave him a task before he died, and that is to find a way to return the 3 old rose rousts that were lost in another dimension using the star crystals. Of course, Margaret’s mom is one of the losses. . Atlas reveals that he really used the facade of Nerd to keep people away, because he was focused on his mission and keeping his identity secret, but never thought a young woman would put her eyes on him. . He tried to get away from her as well when he knew his identity but could not, of course, he could not because he loves her equally, corresponding to the question that had remained pending, with this said proposes Margaret to help him if he loves him and wants to return to his mother, . This event does not tell anyone, she keeps it until the hour comes, time passes and the day’s fight comes where they are unfortunately almost defeated, even Starmask tries to help them, but he is poisoned and beaten by one of the Black scouts. Margaret, holding the stone and the staff, does everything she can to save her team and her beloved. Successfully defeated and with the stone could save all from death and Starmask, the latter thanking her and waiting for her later. .

Margaret with her already-made decision goes in the mentioned direction, he comes out behind a tree and approaches her waiting for her with his answer looking at her with neutral eyes. She comes and looks at him, and without hesitation gives him a slap. She is angry with concern, but equally disappointed. Not only that, but she raises her voice to him, saying that she cannot ask her to do such treachery to her team and is disappointed to manipulate her with her love for him, but still offering to join them and look for another solution. . Atlas knew in a way that this was her answer, he saw it coming, for he did not see her able to do such an action, always noble of good heart not like one who would do anything to commit his mission before he left, says that the next time they fight he will not resist anymore and that if he manages to take away the objects and fulfill his mission and does not forgive him, he will walk away from her with this ends their encounter. . Leaving her alone again with another crack in her heart.

[medusapelagia]

A Magnet For Trouble: CH 5 Friday? Six o’clock?

written for the @billybigbang2024 Read from CH 1, ..., CH6

With more art by @akichania HERE

TW: gun violence and blow job

(I was sure I posted this yesterday but... I forgot, lol XD! Sorry!

Read here or on AO3

Hiding a huge tattoo on the back isn't easy. Even if Jason did his best not to change in the locker room with the others, one of his fellow policemen saw his tattoo and now he's the talk of the station.

"I think it's badass." Patrick says, when he comes back to their car with two cups of coffee, "It’s a Revenge Angel, I think. Am I right?"

"Archangel Michael," Jason replies, grabbing the offered coffee, "We are still working on it, but Michael is the leader of all the angels. He's the protector and defender of truth, justice, and goodness. And it's also the patron saint of police officers, firefighters, and soldiers, so…"

“So he’s going to protect you who protect the other people. That’s cool.”

"Yeah, something like that." Jason mutters, yelping when the hot beverage stings his tongue, "Fuck! It's hot."

"It's coffee!" Patrick chuckles, while they keep patrolling the streets.

They are talking about last night's game, when the radio starts to croak, announcing a robbery attempt not far from where they are, so Patrick grabs the radio and immediately replies that they are on their way. Turning on the siren, Jason makes a U-turn in the middle of the road, holding on to the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles whiten.

"What's wrong?" Patrick asks, "It looks like you saw a ghost."

"That address. I know it." Jason replies, giving more gas to the car.

Once they get there Jason immediately notices that another police cruiser is already there, together with an ambulance. Jason parks the car and springs out of it as fast as he can.

"Gloria!" He calls, seeing the old woman sitting inside the ambulance, "You ok? What happened!"

"Jason! My boy! What are you doing here?" She replies with a soft smile, while her son shakes his head.

"He’s on duty, mom. He's a policeman, don't you remember? Billy told you." Max’s father says, turning his head toward the young policeman, "Someone tried to break the backdoor to get into the restaurant. Mom was baking some fresh bread and she heard them breaking the window and made them run."

" Il mattarello ho preso! " Gloria chuckles.

"What did she say?"

"She took the rolling pin to threaten them. Non avresti dovuto, ma. Potevano essere armati ." The man replies in Italian, but the woman shrugs.

" Il ristorante è la mia vita . My life!" 

The EMT tries to convince the old woman to go with them to the hospital to be checked out, but she strongly refuses to leave, so after giving her declaration to the first policemen who got on-site, she drags Jason and Patrick toward the back of the restaurant and offers them some coffee.

"We're on duty." Jason tries to explain, not wanting to offend the woman who doesn't dignify that with an answer, and comes back with two espressos that she quietly puts in front of the two policemen.

"This place is becoming dangerous." she says, sitting with them at a little table, "When Antonio and I opened the restaurant forty years ago... it wasn't like that. Children used to play in the neighborhood, now… ah…" she sighs, gesturing animatedly.

Her son joins them, "Yeah, mamma is right. It's not the first time someone has tried to rob us. And you were lucky this time, Mom, but you shouldn't have gone to the back with a rolling pin."

The woman shrugs again, before going back to clean the broken glass from the floor.

"This place is her life. My dad and she started working here as waiters when they first moved to the US, and when the owner sold it, it took everything they had to buy it. It was a hard bet, but they won it." The man sighs, rubbing a hand through his hair, "I told her we should move somewhere else. Find another place in a quieter zone, but she doesn't want to leave the neighborhood. Everything here reminds her of my dad, so… But I don't want to keep you too long, I'm sure you have more important things to do than listen to us complain about the crime rate in the area."

Jason shakes his head.

"No, I'm glad you told us about your concerns. I'll talk about that with our captain and I'll ask him if we can patrol the area more closely," Jason promises, sharing a look with Patrick who nods in agreement.

"Dad?! Granny?!" Max yells, slamming the door open, "What the fuck happened?!" 

Behind her, and equally breathless, stands Billy.

"Where's Gloria?" The blond man asks, searching for her in the room.

"Mom is cleaning the back. Someone tried to rob us. Again."

"We should buy a fucking gun! Or a rifle!" Max growls, "I told you so many times! We need something to protect us from those robbers!"

Her dad pinches the bridge of his nose, "No weapons in our home. It's Nonno Antonio's rule."

"He's not here to complain, is he?" Max snarls back, and Billy puts a calming hand on her shoulder, calling her name softly, "I don't care, ok? What if they got inside and Nonna was here alone? What about that?!" She yells again, wiggling out from Billy's grip.

Jason steps closer with a serious expression, "I know you’re scared Max, and it's ok. But rarely is a gun the right solution for this kind of situation. Whoever they were, they could have shot Gloria if she had a gun, and even if I’m not the most experienced  policeman at the station I can tell you that I’ve  already seen too many gun accidents happen. Weapons are dangerous."

"So what? We just wait for them to rob us or to kill us?" She insists, pushing Jason with rage.

The policeman steps back, letting her vent before adding, "I'll ask my captain to patrol this area more closely. I can't assure you that this won't happen again, but I'm pretty sure these robbers will remember for a long time the old woman that threatened them with a rolling pin."

"Nonna did what?" Max chuckles, while from the back Gloria yells that she's not that old.

Billy pulls himself together, rubbing a hand through his blond mane, “Thank god nothing happened.” He says, sitting in front of Jason, snatching his espresso and grimacing when he drinks it. “It’s cold! And bitter!”

“Should have asked before gulping it down as if it was vodka.” Jason replies before realizing that he has been way too relaxed in front of Patrick, “This is Patrick, my partner. Patrick this is Billy.” he says, making a little pause before adding, “A friend of mine.”

Billy glares at him for a quick moment, before reaching out with his hand, “Billy. Nice to meet you.”

“Patrick, nice to meet you too.”

“So you’re the one who keeps an eye on Jason, huh?” Billy says, getting comfortable.

“Oh no, it’s the other way around. I’m just a newbie. Jason is teaching me everything.” Patrick replies with an earnest smile, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Are you the one who tattooed Jason?” Jason and Billy share a silent look, “It’s just… you’re covered in tattoos so I thought…”

“I am. Is there a problem?”

“No, not at all, I think it’s pretty cool you know? It’s a great tattoo.”

“I still have to finish it, shade it properly, but yeah. I think we did a good job.”

“A tattoo? Where? I wanna see it! And why did you tattoo Jason but you don’t want to tattoo me?” Max complains, getting back to the room.

“Jason’s tattoo is personal, like every tattoo, and he doesn’t have to show you if he doesn’t want to, ok? And you’re way too young for a tattoo as I told you a million times.”

“You got your first at sixteen! You told me!” She complains loudly.

“And look at me now. Trying to make ends meet and always late with the rent. Not gonna happen, Max.”

Jason chuckles, “If it makes you feel any better he didn’t want to tattoo me either at first. It took quite a lot to convince him, and I’m definitely not sixteen.” 

Max crosses her arms in front of her chest, rolling her eyes annoyed but resigned and Billy ruffles her hair, “I promise that if you still want a tattoo when you’re of age I’ll give you the best one. For free.”

“I expect nothing less! We have fed you for ages!” She retorts, still unhappy with Billy’s decision.

Jason smiles at the little interaction: those people aren’t Billy’s family by blood, but there’s no doubt they are the closest thing to a family Jason has ever seen: a family by choice. Max is still complaining that she’s not a kid, when Jason’s radio starts to crack, announcing another emergency they have to take care of.

“Duty calls.” The policeman announces, getting up, “Thanks for the coffee, and fix the backdoor as soon as you can. I’ll talk with the captain soon about stepping up patrols in the neighborhood.”

“Thank you for coming, Jason.” Max’s father says, patting on his back, “We really appreciate it.”

Jason shrugs, “I’m just doing my job.” 

Patrick is already out the door when Billy calls Jason’s name once more.

“Pay attention.” He says, grabbing Jason’s wrist for a quick moment and all that Jason would like to do is kiss him right here and there. Just a peck, a way of saying I missed you and maybe something more, but he can’t. Not with Patrick a few feet away and Billy’s not-family staring at them.

“I’ll see you next week to complete the tattoo, right?” Jason asks and Billy releases his grip on Jason's wrist.

“Right. Friday? Six o’clock?”

“I’ll be there.”

For a moment Billy steps closer to Jason and whispers in his ear, “You won’t regret it,” and then he steps back toward Max, asking for a hammer to help fix the backdoor.

***

Friday night, at half past five Jason is already in front of Billy’s shop, feeling anxious. He remembers too well that Billy told him he was going to blow him after the tattoo, what he doesn’t know it’s if the tattoo artist remembers as well. And, more importantly, if he was serious about it or it was just a stupid joke.

Jason’s smoking a cigarette, standing in a corner where he has a good view of the shop but Billy can’t see him and he has watched the shop for long enough to know that Heather isn’t there, which means nothing. She might arrive at any moment.

The tattoo’s parlor door opens and Billy steps out, lighting a cigarette and gesturing to Jason to get closer.

“I’m on my break. How long were you going to hide in that corner like a creep?” Billy asks, holding the cigarette between his plump lips while he slides the pack of cigarettes in his back pocket.

“It’s too soon. I didn’t want to bother you if you had any clients.”

“You’ve been there long enough to know I’m alone.” Billy replies breathing in some smoke, “I even gave Heather all the money so I won’t have to worry about her coming back in case  things get heated,” he smirks.

Jason is blushing at the implication when he replies, “I thought I chose a good observation point. It looks like yours was better.”

Billy chuckles, tapping the cigarette and letting the ash fall to the ground, “When you spend time on the streets you learn to look out for yourself. And I know you, Jason, I was pretty sure you would have come early.” 

The policeman raises an eyebrow but doesn’t ask any questions and Billy doesn’t offer any details, so they quietly smoke their cigarettes before getting back inside and Billy turns the shop sign from open to closed.

Once again, Billy cleans Jason’s skin, takes a good look at his work, and asks him to lie on the chair and relax while he gets everything ready.

The snapping of his black gloves makes Jason shiver in anticipation and his traitorous dick twitches in his pants. Billy doesn’t notice, or if he does he doesn't comment. He simply grabs his stool and moves it closer to Jason.

“You can look if you want.”

“You told me not to move.”

“Not when I’m working, obviously, but now that the biggest part of the tattoo is done there’s no need for you to stare at the wall. Unless that’s what you want. I won’t be offended, I swear.” Billy chuckles.

Jason shivers, trying to hide his excitement. Seeing Billy work is always an experience. Seeing him frowning in concentration while his hands move quickly and precisely.

“So, you dealt well with the pain last time, right?” 

Jason bites his lips, ashamed of admitting that he actually loved the experience of the mix of pain and pleasure that the needles penetrating his skin made him so excited his dick hurt into his pants the last time he was there.

“It’s ok, I get it. I love it too.” Billy tells him even if Jason hasn’t opened his mouth, “A tattoo gun moves the needles up and down, piercing your skin between fifty and three thousand times per minute while you have to remain calm and still, which is counterintuitive for your body which is used to trying to avoid pain, so your brain orders to your body to start releasing adrenaline dopamine, serotonin and endorphins to soothe you and suddenly a painful experience transforms into a very pleasurable one. I’m more into the controlled pain, inflicting pain on myself, knowing that I can stop when I want or keep going until I can’t take it anymore gives me a kind of excitement nothing else can compete with.” Billy confesses.

“Nothing else, huh? Should I be offended?”

Billy snorts, while the machine buzzes softly and he moves the gun over the recently healed skin, “Didn’t think you were such an egocentric guy. Are you asking me if I like to have sex with you? Because the answer is yes, but that kind of excitement is different. Even having you here, lying half naked for me does something to my ego, can’t deny it.”

“Do you say the same to all your clients?” 

“Only to the hot ones.” Billy winks, “Now relax and let me work my magic.” Billy concludes, kissing Jason’s forehead, while he keeps working on shading the tattoo he made a couple of weeks before, “Did you have any problem with your tattoo?” Billy asks in a soothing tone, “Apart from the normal redness, swelling, and oozing.”

“Everything was fine,” Jason replies, feeling like his tongue is already way too big for his mouth, “Chrissy helped.”

“That’s nice of her. It’s hard to take care of a tattoo on the back if you’re alone.” Billy says, moving his eyes and finding Jason’s for a quick moment. He smiles at him, sweetly, “You're already feeling good, huh?” Billy says softly, caressing Jason’s face with his eyes, “It’s ok. I’m going to take good care of you, you know that, right?”

Jason nods, his eyes half closed.

“Good boy. Just relax for me and let me do my job, and once I'm done I’ll give you the reward I promised you.”

Jason shivers, his eyes wide with desire.

“You remember, right? I made you come here at this hour so we can take our time, finish your tattoo, and have some fun. After all, you’ll need to release all that tension.” Billy smirks and Jason is so lost that he can’t even blush at Billy’s words’ deeper meaning.

Once Billy feels satisfied with his shading he cleans Jason’s back and then guides him toward the mirror to look at his tattoo, now finally complete.

The Archangel, holding his shield and his sword, is standing on his back, staring at the audience with deep dark eyes that feel like they are judging all your sins.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it!” Jason replies, turning to kiss the tattoo artist. It’s just a normal reaction after being teased for so long. No deep personal feelings, just… maybe something more than friends with benefits. A kind of work-in-progress relationship Jason is already fond of.

“Sit here. I’ll grab a glass of juice for you.”

“Juice? I’m not a kid.” Jason protests, but Billy ignores him and comes back with a glass full of orange juice.

“Drink it slowly. It’s cold.”

Jason rolls his eyes but drinks the juice and when he finishes the glass he feels a little more stable.

“Better, huh?”

“How?”

“I have done this job for years, let’s say I developed an instinct to avoid dangerous situations. Now that you’re feeling better I think I have a promise to keep. If you want to.”

“Are you saying?”

“I want to blow you on that chair.”

“What if someone comes in?”

“The shop is closed and Heather isn’t coming. So, what do you say?”

Jason swallows slowly while Billy licks his lips and steps closer to him, hooking his belt with one finger.

“Is that a yes, babe?”

The policeman can only nod, his eyes pinned to Billy’s beautiful face while he opens his belt with one hand.

“Another secret skill you hid from me?” Jason asks while the buckle of his belt hits the metal chair’s metal leg.

“Maybe. Now shut up and enjoy.” 

The tattoo artist quietly opens Jason’s zipper and lowers his black boxers just enough to free his aching dick that bounces free. Its head is already covered in precum.

“Eager, aren’t you?” Billy jokes, stroking Jason’s dick slowly, brushing his slit with his thumb.

Jason hisses but stays put.

“Good boy.” Billy praises him, before sucking his thumb and releasing it with a loud pop that makes Jason shiver.

The policeman takes a deep breath while Billy lowers himself between his legs, brushing his hard dick against his face, before licking a long and wet stripe from his balls to the throbbing head of his dick, and when Jason closes his eyes to enjoy the moment, Billy takes advantage of that moment to take Jason’s dick in his mouth in one go.

Jason startles, instinctively grabbing Billy’s hair and pulling him closer, and before he knows it Billy’s nose is nuzzling at his pubic hair and he has Jason’s dick down his throat.

Billy’s mouth is hot like a furnace and he sucks him off like a starving man, licking, sucking, swallowing around Jason’s dick. The policeman is already so aroused that it doesn’t take a lot for him to be dangerously close to his orgasm.

“Billy…” he mutters, trying to pull out, “Billy, I’m close.” Jason tries to explain, waiting for Billy to recoil. But he doesn’t. He keeps bobbing his head up and down, faster and harder, hollowing his cheeks until Jason can’t resist his mouth and his tongue, he spurts inside the other man's mouth with a throaty groan of pleasure coming from the depth of his soul.

Billy swallows everything, licking Jason’s dick clean and keeping it in his mouth as he slowly turns soft.

“Fuck. Billy. That was…” Jason has no words to explain how that was but it was good. Really good. Maybe even too good. He’s a greedy person and now he wants more. He wants to blow Billy, share his cum, lick into his mouth tasting Billy’s taste mixed with his, but Billy is still dressed and even if his dick is undeniably hard in his tight jeans he doesn’t seem to be looking for more.

“What? Are you disappointed?”

Jason shakes his head grabbing Billy’s wrist and dragging him down to kiss him hard and fuck him with his tongue. The bitter taste of his cum is still filling Billy’s mouth and they share it like a precious gift.

“I want to reciprocate.” Jason finally says while Billy sits comfortably in his lap, “Can I?”

Billy looks around for a moment and then he shakes his head, “Not here. I have to clean everything or Heather will kill me in the morning. Why don’t you keep those naughty thoughts in your dirty mind and we move this party back to my place? My bed is pretty comfortable.”

Jason sighs but nods, then he goes to the bathroom to freshen up while Billy cleans and disinfects every surface.

“I’m going to finish sweeping the floors and I’ll wait for you at the register. Take your time.” Billy says while Jason is still washing his face with ice-cold water.

Thank god Billy’s place is close or nothing would have saved him from an accusation of public indecency.

***

Jason is pulling his clothes back on in the back of the shop when the ring of the little bell over the door reverberates into the silence. Didn’t they close the door with the key? And why is someone entering the shop at this late hour?

Leaving his polo abandoned on the chair, he steps closer, peering at the entrance.

“Hi. I’m sorry we’re closed. You have to come back tomorrow if you want a tattoo.” Billy says, without turning his back, and Jason freezes: the man at Billy’s back has his face covered by a baseball cap and a scarf and is holding a gun with trembling hands.

When the man doesn’t reply Billy finally turns, annoyed, “Did you hear me? I told you-“

He stops in his tracks, looking with worry at the armed man in front of him.

“Give me all the money!” The armed man yells, “Give me the money or I’ll shoot you in the face!” 

That’s a problem because Billy gave all the money to Heather planning to spend a lovely night with Jason. 

“Listen, man. I don’t have any money, ok? My partner took the deposit to the bank already!” The blond replies, trying to keep calm, but the man takes another step toward Billy, and Jason finally opens the curtain, his chest naked, his back covered by a transparent protective film.

“Hey. He’s telling the truth. I’m his last customer. The shop is closed.” 

The man turns abruptly, pointing the gun at Jason.  He seems scared and confused, which is both a good thing because it means he’s not a professional robber, and a bad thing because it means he could do something unpredictable.

“You give me your wallet!” the robber insists, “And the watch! And the phone!” The man stutters, turning his attention toward Jason.

“Ok. Ok, let’s stay calm, huh? I’ll give you everything you asked for, ok? I’m just going to step closer to you to give you my wallet. It’s in my back pocket.” Jason replies, keeping his voice calm and reassuring, while Billy stiffens behind the register.

Jason has been trained to disarm armed people. He just needs to make sure that Billy is safe and he’s close enough to the threat.

One step. Two steps. Three-

“Don’t get any closer!” The man screams, shaking his gun, “Stay where you are and throw me the wallet.”

Jason immediately stops and nods in agreement. He’s still a little bit too far, but he can work with that. He keeps one hand in front of him to show to the man that he’s not a threat, and slowly moves the other arm behind his back, pretending to grab his wallet. The robber's eyes follow Jason’s movement, waiting expectantly for the wallet to be thrown at him, not knowing that, behind his back, Jason is making a fist and that he’s ready to jump up on him and punch him in the windpipe. 

Gritting his teeth, Jason bolts against the attacker. The man, surprised by the movement, recoils a little and instinctively presses the gun’s trigger. 

The gun shoots one bullet and the bang stuns both Jason and the attacker for a moment. Jason’s ears ring loudly but he’s the first to recover from the shock and he punches the man, making him fall on the ground. With a swift movement, he straddles the attacker, feeling the bad taste of bile in the back of his throat. Jason despises violence, and he is ashamed of punching a man in front of Billy, who has a history of domestic violence, but the instinct to protect him is stronger than anything else. He grabs the man’s hand and slams it on the ground until he releases the grip on the gun. He could grab it and point it at the robber’s face, but he decides to just push it out of reach.

“Billy, call 911!” He yells, fighting with the other man who keeps struggling under him, but thanks to a well-aimed kick and a rope that Billy somehow finds in the tattoo shop, the attacker is finally neutralized.

“Are you ok?” Jason asks, holding Billy’s chin and staring into his eyes: they are wide with terror and adrenaline.

“Me?!” Billy asks, shaking his head in disbelief, “You! You got shot, fucking moron!”

“I did not.” Jason chuckles, “He missed.”

But when he lowers his eyes he sees that his chest is covered in blood, and now that the adrenaline is wearing off, he realizes that he feels light-headed.

In the background, the scratching of the wheels and the sounds of sirens is getting closer. Jason smiles: help is finally there. His colleagues will take care of Billy.

His vision starts to blur and the room is spinning too fast.

“Jason?” Billy calls, his voice distorted and far away, “Jason?! Look at me! Stay with me! Please! Jason! Jay!”

Before closing his eyes and collapsing on the ground, Jason's last thought is that, maybe, he should have told Billy that he was in love with him.

[keruimi]

Her World

_________________

This is just a work of fiction. The picture above is not mine and just the story below me. I just finished watching demon slayer and thought to make a short story about my unrequited love for a fictional character. My first FanFiction about my favorite Demon, Akaza. I hope all of you enjoyed my first post in this account. My sincerest apologies if ever the character on Demon slayer is not the same here. I haven't memorized each of their characteristics yet. And for the scenario, it doesn't follow the plot of Demon slayer so don't overthink too much.

Warning! Spoilers ahead

Akaza x reader angst. Suicide and love.

I was feeling a bit heartbroken so I made this.

_____________________

Meet Himawari Y/n, born from a family who cherished the tradition and culture pass down by their ancestors. A doting daughter raised to be obedient. Well-known in her village for her unbelievable beauty, a brunette woman with her gem-worty lavender eyes. A role model for the other daughters.

Yet when she started to learn about the outside world, she slowly gained knowledge of what truly the value of the life she is having. To reach the dream she has ever wanted, to have a family. And for now, as other usual day, she started to work at her job in a restaurant as a waitress.

Reeking with elegance and beauty, the men who saw her could never leave their gaze at her figure as she take a customer's order with the usual kind smile on her lips.

It was a peaceful life...

Until her parents' obsession with tradition and culture got out of control.

It happened one night where the moon was already shining brightly, a hysterical cry of a woman is what you can just hear from the town hall.

Trying her best to prevent her mother from grabbing her fisted hand to sign the marriage paper in front of her as she felt disgusted at the hands of the man touching her.

"I don't want to!" She repeated as she resisted with all her might to surrender her hands to their forces on her.

If she can just cut her hands, she would.

What was her parents thinking? Why would they sell her to a man who is almost thrice her age. She just turned eighteen!

"Let me go" she shouted as she tried to loosen their grips on her but not even them are budging.

And one thought came to her mind.

How in the entire world did her parents agree to this.

They were great parents, when did they tolerate this kind of tradition?

Is it money? Power? Status?

She can't find any flaw in their life right now. She was content, they were content. How come it reaches this?

"Mom, I don't want this!" She cried out and only a harsh slap returned to her making her will to resist drop immediately.

The mother she respected raise her hand at her.

It felt like she was continuously being stomped on as she lost her right to breathe.

Without any thought, her mother took a hold of her hand without wasting any second.

And she only thought of one thing...

Run

When the tip of the ballpen was already on top of the paper. She kneed the man behind her making him lose his touch on her. She snatched her hands away from her mother's grasp.

"Y/n!"

She heard her mother's shout and without a second thought, she turned her back on her and bolted out of the wooden door of the town hall.

She halted when her gaze met her father's cold eyes. "Y/n, get back in there. This is for your future too"

She can't help but frown at them with tears in her eyes. Future?

"Listen to us"

Why would she need a man for that when she can build one by herself?

She snapped out of her own thoughts when her father took a hold of her arm as quick footsteps can be heard behind.

She grit her teeth and without a second thought for her freedom, as with one free hand, she took out her hairpin from her bun. And stab her father's hand that was holding her.

"I can't be an obedient daughter like the person you raised when you changed your way of loving me"

She already lost respect for her parents.

Her father groaned in pain and when she felt a hand on her kimono, she immediately snatched her clothing away from the man's grasp and bolted towards where her feet would take her.

They said the night was never safe, but it feels like staying here is more dangerous.

She can hear the uproar she has caused among the villagers as she continues running far from where she came from.

If there are Gods, even if she never prayed this desperately to be saved. She is willing to believe a God that she is not even sure they really existed.

"Is there anyone who is willing to help me?"

She felt her tears finally slid from her eyes as the loud crowd chased her.

She felt her feet already hurting but she still didn't stop running. Only the twinkling stars and the bright moonlight was her only guide from the darkness.

She is scared of the creatures and beings she believed in. Ghost, elf, enchanted people and more creatures that lived in the forest.

But when it comes to the freedom she is trying to protect, she can abandon that fear.

"Don't let her get away!"

"Get the horses!"

"Y/n!"

The shouts were getting near and she knows they are catching up to her.

"If there is even a God..." She started as she put her gaze behind her and saw some villagers following her.

They were not even blurry on her vision, they were close.

"If there is someone out there..." She looks back to the front in the direction she is heading to.

"Help me!" She shouted without even knowing if someone would listen to her plea. She didn't care if the people who are chasing her might think she is crazy to think about asking for help when the whole village went against her wish.

Her tired body is already succumbing to the pain her feet was feeling. She was never put on a situation like this.

She was never taught how to survive.

She found herself on a dead end as a rock on the bottom of the mountain block her from escaping.

Fear run through her veins as she look back at the people getting closer and she can't help but stuttered her last plea.

"If someone is out there, please help me" she cried out as she back away from the people walking closer to her.

If there is really another life, she is willing to die at this moment.

"Y/n, don't make things harder for us. You ask for this for so long" her mother who faked a sickly sweet worried voice made her stomach churn.

A sentence to avoid embarassing their reputation on the village.

"Don't go against us, we raised you with everything we have for you to have a good life. We won't suffer on money anymore"

And it finally dawned to her...

Their gentle care for her, providing all her needs... Was just for this?

For her to obediently follow everything they wanted?

She finally calm her breathing as she finally realized. It was never really love to begin with, not even the duty or responsibility of them being her parents.

They want to make money off her.

Blessed with such beauty, raise to be gentle and well-mannered lady.

"That's right..." She muttered to herself as her glossy eyes can be seen due to the torch lit up by the villagers behind her parents.

"You both would never get this glory without me" she said as the disbelief and disappointment was written in her face.

"Y/n, it's not like that. We just want to give you a man that can provide the needs for your entire life. So you would not suffer at all" her father's stern voice made her tear up as she can't help but laugh.

"I would rather die than lose myself and dignity as a woman to the desires of everyone" she stated before slowly backing away that made her mom step closer.

With her final decision, she turned her back as she quickly moved her head to the sharp edges of the rock that cornered her.

But somehow, she felt a hard and warm palm against her forehead making her pull herself away.

She found her gaze at the bright yellow eyes shimmering under the moonlight, that was staring back at her as a small smile adored his lips.

She lost her composure at the man who just offered a smile on her as he sat above the rocks she was about to hit her head on.

She started to observed him, a man who has breathtakingly beautiful yellow eyes with unknown words on them. Body adored with stripes she didn't know what it symbolize.

She felt her body trembling as she heard her parents behind her.

"y/n, let's go now"

She slowly reached her hand on the man's hand that was resting on the stone as she grip on it that made the man turn his attention back to her.

This was her last choice

"Please help me" she exclaimed weakly as she looked down and slowly fell on her knees, unknowingly letting go of his hand as her body finally succumbed to darkness.

The man's gaze just follow her body that slowly fell on the ground as he notice the father took a step forward and bow at him.

"My apologies, good Mister. We are just trying to take her back home, she run away after she showed her rudeness to the leader. Forgive us from disturbing you" the father stated as he saw a few men walking up to the girl as he closed his eyes.

He didn't say a word as he effortlessly disfigured the body of the men who tried to get closer. Their body fell limp as gasps surrounded the air.

A smile made its way to his lips.

"I don't mind..." He started as he gave them a grin. "A feast"

And his eyes shone brighter under the moonlight as screams of terror is the only thing you can hear.

~°•°~

I clearly remembered that night when I first saw him. The night where I start longing for his presence. The urge to stay with him forever made me decide on something I didn't know I would have thought of.

"Turn me into a demon"

The will I showed him that I am willing to become one without him even asking me. The time when I decided to train so I can become worthy to stay beside him.

"Akaza" I whispered as I ran my fingers through his hair as we stayed in a room, hiding from the sunlight while he rest his tired body on me.

I soothe him almost to take a nap on my thighs until he heard me speak that made him open his eyes to look at me.

I can't help but stare deeply at his eyes as I tried my best to not get weak just on his gaze so I just looked at the painting in front of me.

It was just some traditional paintings made by humans. The being I was before I became a villain.

Just for him...

"Why did you become a demon?" I ask the first question that first came to my mind as I looked down again at him who was just staring at him.

He sat up after a few seconds and immediately made me feel lonely as I stared at his back. We were both silent as I sighed before looking away.

How can I ask that?

Villains have reasons why they became one. Asking them would just dig the painful past that is deeply buried.

And I decided to open it.

"I'm sorry, it was just that-"

"I want to become stronger" he answered with a blank tone that made me feel like it was not his greatest desire.

What was his greatest desire? The dream he wanted to reach but it's so far.

Like he is to me.

He treated me differently but not too different from others.

Is it because I was a woman?

I've heard from the others that he never kills women. And I am no different.

It made me think if he ever loved someone that made killing women forbidden to his rules. It made my heart ache as I looked away from his figure that walked out of the room.

It was almost half a century ago when I decided to become a demon. Yet when I did, I never felt that kind of warmth I felt that night.

I tried, yet failed so many times.

I was always by his side. Helping him with his mission, became his eye on the outside world.

I did everything to become worthy to become someone important to him.

But never once did he make me feel I was important.

That theory was proven when my nightmare turned to reality. A painful news was informed to me.

"Akaza is dead! Kyomi, just surrender yourself" I heard the person who has a Hashira aura from them.

I felt my body stop attacking as my blood turned cold.

My surroundings turned cold as my world went dark.

"He took his own life" she let out the final bomb that made me gasp from pain as my eyes started to filled tears that turn to ice.

The ice that made the frozen feet of the three slayers surrounding me finally melted as tears slipped from my eyes.

"You're lying" I managed to mutter between heavy breaths as I found myself having a difficult time to breath.

They are lying

He could never leave me

"I'll name you Kyomi" I still remembered the first sentence he uttered to me. Before and after I became a demon.

A beautiful smile was plastered to his face and I let him use me as he pleased.

I obey everything he wanted.

"You're learning well" he praised me as I managed to finally master the moves he taught me.

"Fireworks makes my heart stir"

That he managed to talk to me the things that bother him the most.

"In anyone's eyes, am I even enough?!" His angry tone shook the whole room as I ran to him to hug his body that was shaking from hatred.

"You're more than enough, Akaza. In my eyes, you were the strongest" I spoke with my sincerest emotions as I took a hold of his face, gently caressing his cheek.

"Akaza, you're doing more than enough"

I still remember that time when he first softened his eyes for me. The first time he burst on me.

I remember everything, from his lowest and highest moments when I entered his life.

He should have a reason to live.

I was here. I was beside him

"You were not the person he was looking for" the hashira in front of me keeps opening up the truth.

I don't even know if it was the truth.

But maybe it was. The moment I felt them stop attacking me from different directions.

I can feel one of their sympathetic gazes for me.

"From the information we gathered on him, he never wanted to become a demon" she started as my body was still frozen in one place.

"Ever since from the beginning, he already wanted to follow her in the afterlife. He was just deprived of that wish"

I felt the world stop as only one word engraved on my mind.

Her?

"Koyuki. The woman he promised to marry when he was still a human" she started to take steps forward to me.

"Muzan just removes his memory so he can continue being a demon. Do you realize now?" She stopped in front of me as a cold gaze stared on my own.

"You never have a place there in his life. You were no one"

It broke me.

Her words, deeply hurted me. "Kanao, that's enough"

"The fact that you became a demon just for his love" she exclaimed as I felt a dagger near my stomach.

"Are you willing to change your mind now and just die" her knife started to trail from my stomach to my neck as the tears from my eyes continue to feel on my cheeks.

But I can feel how tired all of them are.

They entered the realm where demons can't even handle it except for the King and Nakime.

I can't help but let out a long breath as her words continued to process on my mind.

Koyuki...

So she was that person that always make his mind blank and reminded him of a few memories that held him back from turning it into one of the happiest memories with me.

She, his fiance. A human that he never forgets.

His first love. And somehow she still became his last.

I felt the wind knock my lungs as I fell to my knees as heartbreak started taking over my body and mind.

I was no one?

No one.

Not even someone who he would choose just to stay alive.

All of my life, I lived on the lies of my parents. And now his comfort has warmed my entire world, was it still the same as them?

"Akaza..."

How can you not love me?

Why... Do I always receive the opposite of everything I wanted?

I thought I already made it. I thought I managed to become someone you cherished.

But in the end, even if you forgot about her, your mind and heart would always stay on her.

I sat on my knees as I looked up to the woman who looked stronger than me.

I wish I became like her. I wish I decided to live for myself, for the good of the world, than to become a villain for the person who never really saw my worth.

"Do as you wish..." I whispered as I felt my heartbeat slowly stop beating.

"I have nothing to fight for"

And I felt my neck being cut off from my body, yet the tears on my eyes never stopped falling.

If there's a God, if there's a second life...

I saw myself in that dark place, where I saw him with them.

If there was a second life...

I just wish to be happy

I just....

Want

to be happy...

And I found myself walking towards the blazing fire of hell. Never looking back, at the happiness he found for himself.

While I lost myself because I decided to choose him.

[betterbooktitles]

On looking older than I am:

By the time I was a teenager, I’d fully accepted my early adulthood. When I wasn’t playing a sport or acting in a play, my number one hobby was taking a John Updike book (sorry) to a coffee shop. I frequented a place within walking distance of my house in Cleveland called Talkies. I sat at the front bar with my book and ate a second lunch at 3 PM. I talked to random people sipping coffee and smoking cigarettes inside. One was a researcher at Case Western who studied molecular biology. He seemed to know no one in Cleveland except me and the baristas. Another guy was a white dude with dreadlocks, a gifted actor who bussed tables at the fancy restaurant next door. Every barista was a 20-something woman who told me about their various trysts in graphic detail. Multiple times the men offered me cigarettes or to split a joint outside. No wonder it took me years to finish one of the Rabbit novels. I was soaking up more than enough adult content in my real life than any book could offer.

The oddest encounter occurred at a hotel in Annapolis, Maryland when I was 15. I attended a boys’ catholic prep school and because my parents and I were taking a few college campus tours during our family trip, and you never know who you might bump into, I chose to wear the tie and khakis I would normally wear in class. I had chosen an aqua shirt with a bright textured gold tie that morning and was still wearing it when I approached the front desk that evening. I promised my English teacher I would have a late assingment on his desk Monday morning despite my travel schedule. I had finished writing it on my mom’s laptop and put it on a flash drive. 

“Is there an office in the hotel with a printer?” I asked the woman at the front desk. I deepened my voice. “My boss needs this report ASAP.”

The woman behind the desk wore a maroon and beige polo shirt with the name of the hotel embroidered on one side and a fat plastic name tag that read “Jess” on the other. She kept her curly brown hair tied back behind her head and looked like she was ready to take a nap rather than help one more jerk fix his malfunctioning room key or find the hotel’s office. She smiled though and led the way. We walked through a large banquet hall that looked like it was hosting a wedding or prom. Pink uplighting and one of those whirling balls with differently colored light filters spun around and painted the room. I watched fat white men in suits sip cocktails out of plastic cups and flirt with young women half their size and age. A number of them wore saris. 

“What is this?” I said aloud. 

“It’s a party for the IMF.” the woman said. “You’re not with them?”

“No, I’m on a different kind of work trip.” I said.

She kept walking until we found a door on the side of the room. Bright tube lighting poured into the mock nightclub when she opened it. I hurried in so as to not disturb the party atmosphere too long, and to my surprise, she shut the door behind us and stayed to watch me use the office. 

Computers in 2002, especially out-of-date communal ones used by everyone in a hotel, were not very fast. The fat glass monitor was already on, and when I opened the browser, I had a good two minutes to chat, which the hotel employee seemed keen on doing.

“So where are you headed?” She asked.

“Well, it’s here tonight, then New York, then upstate somewhere, back to Cleveland.”

“Busy weekend.” 

“Yes, we’re- I’m trying to squeeze in a lot.” 

We talked about my work. I vaguely said I was on a deadline for a writing assignment which made me sound like a journalist or someone with an entry-level publishing job. At some point, she said she was glad I wasn’t with the loud bankers because I seemed too nice and cute to work with them. 

Was this happening?

I found my little essay about Chaucer and clicked print. As a printer the size of a Fiat whirred to life and started pumping out the pages, the woman said: 

“I’m actually off the clock now if you want to have a drink with me.”

“I’d love that,” I said.

I put the essay in a folder (not a professional manila folder, a high school-ass, bright glossy blue folder with my school’s logo on it) and followed her to the hotel bar.

I ordered a beer in the annoying fake way people do in movies: the actor walks up to the bar and instead of checking what’s on tap or thinking of their brand of choice like ‘Bud’ or ‘Stella’ or even naming a type like ‘stout’ or ‘pilsner’ the actor confidently says “I’ll have a beer” and the extra playing the bartender wordlessly gets to pouring.

“I’ll have a beer!” I said to the bartender who squinted his eyes at me and cocked his head. 

“OK…” he pointed at Jess, who still had her uniform and name tag on. 

“Jack and Coke, Ben.” 

I sipped the beer slowly. We drank and talked about work and if Jess was going to bite the bullet and go to grad school. She asked if I wanted, when we finished our drinks, to go with her to a house party up the street.

“We can smoke a bowl, listen to my friend play some music. It’ll be fun.” she assure me.

“I really shouldn’t,” I said, “We’re- I’m… I have an early morning.”

“Ah,” she said, looking down at her drink.

I now realize that every coy excuse I made sounded like I had a girlfriend or wife at home and I maybe had a problem with drugs and alcohol that might make me do something I regretted. I was playing an adult better than I ever had in my life.

“So, someone is with you in your room, then?” Jess asked nervously.

“Yeah. There are people in my room.” 

And here, dear reader, I’m sorry (or happy) to tell you that I fessed up.

“I’m staying with my parents.” I said.

“Oh. That’s sweet. Are they meeting up with you on this trip? Where are they from?”

“We drove here together from Cleveland, actually.”

“Oh, OK.” She said, looking confused.

“I- You see. I’m not on a work trip. I’m seeing schools.” I looked at the bartender who was pretending not to listen on the other side of the empty bar.

“Grad schools?”

“No. Listen. Sorry. I’m in high school.”

“Wait- how old are you?”

“I’m 15.”

“Jesus. Uuughh!” She leaned her torso over the bar as if she was fainting, and looked up at me with one eye over her glass. “Oh, boy. I know how to pick ‘em.”

“I look older,” I said, consolingly. 

“Yes. You do. Oh, God. Wow. OK. Ummm.” She sat up and did a little drum roll with her hands on the bar.

I chugged the rest of my beer. 

Read the rest of the essay here.

[redhatmeg]

And Whole Cake Arc ends on a frame where Zeff on Baratie and Sanji on Sunny prepared the same dish. I would like to talk about the expecations I've originally had with this arc and also what I took from it in the end.

See, while reading on Zeff on TVTropes I've learned that Vinsmokes will be threatening him and the phrasing kinda, sorta made me think that Zeff and probably the rest of the Baratie cooks were taken from Baratie to Germa Kingdom. Since I've also read that at some point Sanji makes a cake to calm down Big Mom, I assumed that he will do it alongside his mentor. Later I even checked Zeff's page on One Piece Wiki and I stumbled upon the screenshot above, which only served as further proof of this assumption (although, this split screen seemed kinda suspicious). While the whole idea kinda intrigued me, I also thought that Zeff would probably put on some fight. I also imagined Baratie cooks in some dungeons that Straw Hats would have to at some point break them out.

But then I've read on the same One Piece Wiki that Zeff doesn't show up in person in Whole Cake Arc, but he is shown in flashbacks that showcase how Red Leg's moral teachings shaped Sanji into the good man he is now. Moreover, one of the flashbacks would be about how Zeff taught Sanji to never raise a hand at a woman and he specifically never hired any female cooks because he teaches cooking through kicking.

So I was looking forward for these flashbacks and for everything regarding Zeff. And I must say that all of it made me see him in a bit different light. Until now I mostly knew the terrible pirate captain, who nevertheless saved a little kid; and a reformed yet still hard-ass chef who believed in tough love and was telling his surrogate son horrible things to motivate him to leave. He certainly seemed fatherly but in my mind he would probably have hard time admitting that he cared for Sanji.

However, this arc - through Sanji - shows a different part of Red Leg Zeff. It shows a man who teaches a cabin boy in his care not just how to cook, but also how to be a good man. First we have the flashback with Zeff fixing Sanji's hands after a fight, and then this whole thing with not kicking women, which ends on Zeff telling Sanji: "Don't become someone I would hate." And finally, when asked by Judge why he saved Germa 66, Sanji replies that his father (Zeff) would be disappointed in him if Sanji held into the resentment towards his biological family and even laughed at their demise. Sanji even says that he wants to be able to look Zeff in the eye.

All of this reveals that Zeff raised Sanji as man who would not hold grudges, would not hit a woman and would use his hands for cooking and not for fighting.

And it got me thinking... how much of this Zeff believed before the island, and how much he decided to teach Sanji when they founded Baratie? Because remember - Sanji met Zeff when Red Leg attacked the cruise ship the boy was working at; and started to rob the passangers. I can believe that for a long time Zeff was a ruthless and terrible pirate captain and then the experience of extreme hunger made him reevaluate his life choices. The wish for a sea restaurant certainly can be considered Zeff's way to atone for his past sins; a way to do something better and be better. The fact that he now had to take care of a child could also factor into Red Leg's decision to change his ways. At the same time I wouldn't be surprised if the rule against hurting women was something Zeff believed before the island and it stemmed from, for example, his mother being the survivor of domestic abuse.

So definately I've got something to think about regarding Red Leg Zeff as a character.

[beardedmrbean]

FORT LAUDERDALE, Fla. (AP) — A woman who pleaded guilty to dressing as a clown and in 1990 murdering the wife of a man she later married was released from prison Saturday, ending a case that has been strange even by Florida standards.

Sheila Keen-Warren, 61, was released 18 months after she pleaded guilty to second-degree murder for the shooting of Marlene Warren, Florida Department of Corrections records show. The plea deal came shortly before her trial would have started.

Keen-Warren, who has maintained her innocence even after her plea, was sentenced to 12 years in prison. But she had been in custody for seven years since her arrest in 2017, and Florida's law in 1990 allowed significant credit for good behavior. It had been expected she would be released in about two years.

“Sheila Keen-Warren will always be an admitted convicted murderer and will wear that stain for every day for the rest of her life," Palm Beach County State Attorney Dave Aronberg said in a statement Saturday.

Greg Rosenfeld, Keen-Warren's attorney, has said she only took the plea deal because she would be released in less than two years and had been facing a life sentence if convicted at trial.

“We are absolutely thrilled that Ms. Keen-Warren has been released from prison and is returning to her family. As we’ve stated from the beginning, she did not commit this crime," he said Saturday in a text message.

Marlene Warren’s son, Joseph Ahrens, and his friends were at home when they said a person dressed as a clown rang the door bell. He said that when his mom answered, the clown handed her some balloons. After she responded, “How nice,” the clown pulled a gun and shot her in the face before fleeing.

Palm Beach County sheriff's investigators had long suspected Keen-Warren in the slaying, but she wasn't arrested until 27 years later when they said improved DNA testing tied her to evidence found in the getaway car. Rosenfeld has called that evidence weak.

At the time of the shooting, Keen-Warren was an employee of Marlene Warren’s husband, Michael, at his used car lot. Since 2002, she has been his wife — they eventually moved to Abingdon, Virginia, where they ran a restaurant just across the Tennessee border.

Witnesses told investigators in 1990 that the then-Sheila Keen and Michael Warren were having an affair, though both denied it.

Over the years, detectives said, costume shop employees identified Sheila Warren as the woman who had bought a clown suit a few days before the killing.

And one of the two balloons — a silver one that read, “You’re the Greatest” — was sold at only one store, a Publix supermarket near Keen-Warren's home. Employees told detectives a woman who looked like Keen-Warren had bought the balloons an hour before the shooting.

The presumed getaway car was found abandoned with orange, hair-like fibers inside. The white Chrysler convertible had been reported stolen from Michael Warren’s car lot a month before the shooting. Keen-Warren and her then-husband repossessed cars for him.

Relatives told The Palm Beach Post in 2000 that Marlene Warren, who was 40 when she died, suspected her husband was having an affair and wanted to leave him. But the car lot and other properties were in her name, and she feared what might happen if she did.

She allegedly told her mother, “If anything happens to me, Mike done it.” He has never been charged and has denied involvement.

But Rosenfeld said last year that the state’s case was falling apart. One DNA sample somehow showed both male and female genes, he said, and the other could have come from one out of every 20 women.

And even if that hair did come from Keen-Warren, it could have been deposited before the car was reported stolen. He said Marlene Warren's son and another witness also told detectives that the car deputies found wasn’t the killer’s, though investigators insisted it was.

Aronberg last year conceded that there were holes in the case, saying they were caused by the three decades it took to get it to trial, including the death of key witnesses.

Michael Warren was convicted in 1994 of grand theft, racketeering and odometer tampering. He served almost four years in prison — a punishment his then-attorneys said was disproportionately long because of suspicions he was involved in his wife’s death.

He did not respond to a phone message left for him Saturday.

[blackroseguzzi]

Woosah Baby : part 2

Warren’s POV

I silently drove y/n back to her campus apartment. I remember when we had first graduated high school, I was so animate on living with her. I wanted to spend every minute of every day with her, but she shot me down so fucking quick because she said something about the importance of separate space.. blah blah blah. I spent most weekends there, but as much as I wanted to just campout there until the end of time- I knew y/n liked her alone time without anyone in her bubble.

She didn’t want to talk no matter how much I begged her to let me go to inside with and talk about everything. She said some shit about how she was too emotionally drained and that we would talk tomorrow.

Hell, I got it. I wasn’t the one who had just learned that I’d have to harbor a fetus inside me for more than half year. I watched her get out of my Volvo and walk sullenly back into her building. I sat idling there for a few minutes. I was scared shitless. I had no idea how to comfort her. It was never my strong suit to be that romantic and emotional supportive partner. I was the fun and goofy one, and y/n fed off that energy. She had never needed me in the past like she did right now. Not when her dad up and left her mother for a woman half his age. Not when her mom had been hospitalized for drinking a bottle of pills right before y/n was supposed to take the SAT’S. She would just come over my house, ask me to roll her a blunt, and we would listen to some Ozzy Osborne and make out.

She had never been this upset before and it freaked me out. How was I going to make things better? Should I ask my parents for help or was that something some pussy guy would do in this situation?

Fuck I need some strong booze and some dank weed. I needed to go do something that would get my mind right.

**Later that night**

Spencer and I sat outside Rich Moore’s parents house. They were gone for a month to Hawaii so Rich was constantly having parties. They were so much better than some of the frat parties we’ve been at lately. I took a long drag off my blunt and handed it over to Spencer who graciously took it from my fingers.

“Man, what’s up? You’ve been in a lame mood today. Everything good?” Spencer was my best friend. If I was being honest he was too good for me. He was innocent, except when he was with me. He was always down to go with me when I would get these grand ideas of stealing food from restaurants or random crap from large chain stores. They didn’t need that money as much as I needed things. Big box stores are just Inflexible in practice.

“Yeah.. yeah I’m good dude,” I said after letting out a drag of smoke, making a few rings. I watched the smoke rings drift into the night sky and then suddenly fade and break apart. It made my heart skip. I didn’t want y/n to drift away from me and for us to end. I knew things were going to be hard - I’m not stupid. I knew I’d have to find a job, become some loser 9-5 worker who hated their lives just so they can provide a minimum wage life for their family. I knew I was going to have to learn to grow up, but I was afraid that I might not have that capability.

“Where is y/n tonight? She didn’t show up for her shift at work this afternoon. Is she good?” Spencer took another drag and handed it to me. I waved it away, trying to get a little taste of self control I’ll have to learn quickly.

“She’s pregnant,” I stated. My face felt emotionless, but there were so many weird feelings inside me.

Spencer’s eyes burned into my skin and I just couldn’t look at his face. I just kept looking at the night sky where the stars just blotted the darkness.

“Hey that’s the big dipper,” I pointed out, trying not to dig deeper into the conversation hole I just created for myself.

“Fuck the big dipper man- Y/n’s pregnant?” Spencer questioned back at me, alarmed that I was looking for constellations in the sky instead of talking about this big news I had just confessed.

I finally turned towards him and his eyes burned into me, they looked shocked.

“Yeah, she is. I’m fucked. We’re both fucked. What else is there to talk about?”

“So you’re obviously keeping it?” Spencer asked. We hadn’t even talked about anything in regards to this baby. I didn’t even know how far along she was.

I reached out to pick up my red solo cup that was chilling on the railing in front of us. Empty. Thank god.

“I’m going to go grab more beer.”

Spencer huffed as I turned to go back inside the house, which was so insanely crowded. So many drunk girls with tiny crop tops and shorts way too short for the middle of November. Laughter and music filled the stale air, which smelt like sweat, weed, and immaturity.

I walked over to the keg in the kitchen. A few girls huddled around it giggling amongst themselves. Thank Jesus y/n was never like that. She didn’t huddle around a group of girls, to gossip, and she never asked 5 of them to go to the bathroom with her everywhere she went too. She was popular with the guys at college and I wasn’t oblivious about it either. She was friendly and easy-going. She wasn’t a girl that asked much of a guy - clearly. She was also a natural beauty, only ever wearing mascara and chap stick. I loved that cherry Carmax shit she always wore. It tasted just as good as she did. Her body was so smooth, and not overly tan like half the girls at the University. I wonder what our baby was going to look like. God, I hope that their baby would have y/n’s perfect nose, and the way her eyes squinted when she smiled.

I was broken from my thoughts as I felt a hand lace around my shoulder while I filled his solo cup. I looked over at the cute blonde girl who was snaking in a little too close for comfort. Her light pink shirt overly revealing.

“Hey,” she whispered seductively into my ear. I swallowed hard. Even though I loved y/n with all my heart, any guy would be lying when they didn’t feel some weird way when a pretty girl touched you that way. Especially when you had alcohol and THC simultaneously running through your veins.

“You’re the cute kid in my Lit class on Fridays. I didn’t see you there today,” her breath on my neck was hot and she smelled like a bunch of pachouli soaked strawberries.

“Yeah, I ah.. I overslept,” I said sheepishly, giving her a side smile and handing the keg hose to her. She thanked me and filled her own cup. The foam on the top of her beer was on the verge of overflowing as she finished. She took a sip, the foam getting all over her upper lip.

“Oops,” She giggled and took her red tongue out of her mouth and slowly licked the foam from her lip and gave me a devilish smile.

“You want to go somewhere quiet? I can fill you in on what we learned in class today.” She spoke softly and I wondered how through the pounding of the horrible rap music surrounding us I could hear her so clearly.

“Yeah, sounds cool.” I knew I was being stupid. This girl had nothing on y/n. She was plastic as I liked to say. I could see the inch of makeup on her face and I knew her eyelashes were certainly not that long naturally. She had a killer body, but girls like her only ate salads and sucked on lollipops to curb their appetite. I just wanted to dull this pain in my heart. I wanted to just stop feeling like I was a piece of shit who knocked up their girlfriend, had no income besides my mom sending me cash every month, and who was most likely going to loose their scholarship in a few weeks. Then what? Y/n deserved better. I have never had ambitions to be a family man.

“Well,” The blonde brought me to a couch tucked away in what appeared to be a study in the home. I was surprised with how crowded the party was that there wasn’t a single sole in the room.

“Well,” I repeated back. I took a large sip of my beer and smiled at her in a flirtatious way.

“I’m Karie, and I know you’re Warren. The teacher always calls on you because you never pay attention in class.” She giggled again and it was a little annoying how forced it sounded.

“Yeah, I’m not really an American literature kind of guy,” I took another sip. I needed more booze to get me through this.

“What kind of guy are you?” God, she sounded like she watched a lot of rom coms. I bet she was a big fan of Failure to Launch and 10 things I hate about you.

“I’m whatever you want me to be,” I stated. God, I hated myself.

She gave me a warm smile and took a sip of her own beer. You could tell in her face that she was more of a boxed wine kind of gal. She placed the cup on the coffee table in front of us.

Suddenly, her lips were on mine. They felt so different then the lips I was used to for the last 5 years. They were smaller, and much stickier. I let her tongue slide into my mouth, and I found myself placing my beer down on the table and then placing my hands on her waist. I let myself just go with whatever she was doing for a moment. I pretended it was y/n. I pretended that we were not in the positions we were in and that we were together at a party just living in the moment. Things are easy like they’d always been. Reality was, things were going to be hard and I was so mad at myself that I wasn’t a better man for her.

Karie sneaked closer to me, wanting more of whatever I was giving her. She grabbed my hand off her waist and slowly moved it up towards her breast. I could feel the padding under my hand and I froze. I gently pushed away and closed my eyes.

“I can’t….uh I’m pregnant…fuck,” I finally opened my eyes to look at her and she was staring at me like I was absolutely insane.

“I mean, my girlfriend is. I…”
“You have a girlfriend?” Her eyes were wide and she leaned away from me. I felt a relief in my chest.

“Yeah, I’m sorry.. Um I gotta go.” I quickly got up and ran my hands through my hair. FUCK. I felt sick-I could feel the alcohol working its magic as the room spun a little when I had started walking away.

I weaved my way between a bunch of people down the hallway back into the kitchen. Karie’s friends were still huddled next to the keg, and one of them looked over at me and smirked. She was about to get an earful for sure. I walked past them casually and looked around for Spencer. He was surprisingly still outside, talking to some cute nerdy girl. It looked like she was showing him some of her artwork on her phone.

“Spence, let’s go!” I shouted as I approached him. He looked over at me and could immediately tell I was disheveled and anxious to leave.

“Okay okay, I’ll meet you at the car in a sec,” He looked me up and down. I wanted him to just come with me, but I didn’t want to be that big of a cock block where he didn’t even get her number. I just nodded and smiled politely at the girl he was with before making my way down the steps of the house and darting down the street.

“Fuck,” I whispered to myself. I pulled out my emergency blunt from my jacket pocket. I lit it up and took a hit.

I got to my car and wondered for a second if I should even be driving. No, I probably shouldn’t but I needed to get to of there.

It felt like 10 years before I saw Spencer at the passenger side window waving to be let in. I unlocked the door and he shoved his body in quickly. As soon as the door was shut I was taking off down the street.

“Everything okay?” He questioned me. He was a good friend, I was lucky.

“Yeah, just felt like leaving. The keg was tapped, and the house smelt like vomit.” I tried to laugh like nothing was bothering me, and he knew not to push. We were quiet for a few moments and the sound of the wheels on the road calmed my nerves. I was driving away from my problems yet again, and I found comfort in that.

“Yo want to know something wack?” Spencer broke the silence.

I took another hit, waiting for him to tell me.

“I was in the special collections room at my schools library today. There’s this piece of work inside there is worth freaking 12 million bucks.”

Spencer’s always telling me weird facts. It was just how he was, and when we would get completely baked it would make for the coolest conversations.

“You’re shitting me? No way is there a book worth that much money,” I laughed.

“Nah, it’s not a book. It’s like a collection of paintings,” he stated “like if Picasso had a bunch of his paintings in a book.”

“What’s it sitting in a shelf in the library?” I was suddenly curious. Why was this book in some random college library if it was worth that much?

Spencer shook his head, “no the special collections room is super secure. You can’t just walk in there.”

“So there’s security everywhere?” I asked as I pulled into the gas station. Spencer needed water and a pack of gum. He didn’t want his parents knowing he had been out drinking.

He got out of the car and looked back down at me “No, you need an appointment,” He stated before closing the door and I watched him swiftly walk into the station.

Man, what I would do with $12 Million. Hell, with $1 million. Y/N and would never have to worry. We could live our lives without a struggle and be happy. Our baby would have everything it would ever need and more. For a split crazy moment I wondered what it would take for me to be able to get my hands on that book.

Spencer came back out to the car and started to open a packet of those white powdered mini donuts. I was staring at him, and he could feel it.

“What?” He asked.

“I think you know what.” I drove off and I could tell by Spencers change in body language that he did in fact know exactly what I was thinking.