#this has happened 5 times in college so far

[tojikai]

Sundered 2: EMBERS

Pairing: Gojo x reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Alt. Ending

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, mean!gojo(kinda), babydaddy!gojo, babymomma!reader, motherhood, insecurities, arguments, implied pregnancy, mentions of abortion

word count: 5.4k

a/n: it's not sad.

Pining so intensely for something you never had to the point where you physically ache.

Each step that you take away from Satoru’s house feels like a stomp to your already broken heart. Your eyebrows furrowed, feeling the waterlines of your eyes start to get hot and itch. You recalled the noises and laughs that you heard from them while you walked out of their door. 

They have no idea how much you want to get down on your knees and beg them not to take away the only thing you have left. 

Your feet feel heavy with each stride you make toward your car. You could taste blood inside your mouth as you bit your inner lip to channel the pain away from your heart and to your body instead. You found yourself looking for answers on why all of this has to happen to you. As if being replaced by the man you love so easily and having to see how he treats someone else a thousand times better than you were not enough, you also have to witness your own flesh and blood turn away from you. Am I really that far behind that woman?

Is she that much better that even my own child prefers her over me?

You placed your hands on the steering wheel, looking down at your lap as you let the tears fall. You kept glancing over at the gate, hoping that Satoru would come out, running with your baby in his arms. Yet, you don’t want him to see you crying miserably. You swallowed thickly, letting out a large breath in an attempt to get rid of the painfully heavy feeling in your chest.

Driving away was numbing, and all sorts of thoughts ran inside your mind. But above all of them, your eyes were focused on the toy store as it got bigger in your view. You wondered about what you could get your little love to at least make her smile when she comes home. You remembered how your gift to her, her favorite bear that she used to hug as she sleeps ever since she was an infant, was cast aside as she clings to her new ones. 

Is that a foreshadowing of how you’d end up being in her life? It scared you.

Reaching the parking lot of the store, you looked at yourself in the car mirror, noticing your bloodshot eyes. You inhaled and let a big breath out slowly, puffing your cheeks as you assured yourself that it’ll be fine when she comes home later. Your head hurts so much but you can’t afford to care, stepping out of your car and heading to the front door of the store. The first thing you saw was a pregnant, young lady checking baby books. 

She reminded you of yourself when you were still pregnant with Yui; curious about everything, eager to learn, and all was about the baby. You admit that it wasn’t like that at first, given that you were young and had to drop out of college at that time. You were anxious, torn between decisions, and terrified of what life would be like for you from that point in time. During that period, you and Satoru were ignorant but trying hard to figure everything out.

You met Satoru at a nightclub where you worked as a bartender. He was flashy, and women just flock to him as if it was the most natural thing to do around him but that night, his eyes were on you. What with persistent offers of buying you drinks and talking to your manager to let you off early for the night, you ended up in a luxurious hotel suite with him. 

He even wrote his number on the price tag of the fancy lingerie set that he bought you after he ruined the one you were wearing the previous night. He was joking that you’ll never get enough so he’s providing you his contact for next time. You thought that would be the end of it. You didn’t think that it was just fate giving you a helping hand in advance because you’d end up with a child together. 

You consider it a dumb mistake. You know that Plan Bs exist. But with a working student like you who couldn’t even have time to get a proper boyfriend, it slipped your mind. The first thing you did after you got the results was call Satoru. You thanked the heavens that he wasn’t seeing anyone, and that he remembers you. It was a tense meeting, what with you asking if he wants you to abort the fetus. Next thing you know, you two were already dealing with your mood swings. 

“Look, I really want to work this out with you, Y/N. For the baby.” Satoru sighed, slamming the door behind him as he watched you sit on your old couch. You lean your elbows on your knees as you covered your face with your hands, harshly running them down your cheeks to wipe away the big, fat tears that fell from your eyes. There are just so many things going on with your life. 

“I’m only 21, Satoru. I got my whole life ahead of me.” You looked up at his tall figure, frustration was evident in your eyes. You can tell that he was also distressed. His hair was messy, his jaw was clenched tightly, and even if you cannot see behind his tinted glasses, you can tell that he hasn’t been getting enough sleep. The dark half-circles under his eyes and the redness in them show just how exhausted and disquieted he has been in the past few days.

Satoru’s five years older than you. He was born to a rich family of politicians who don't and probably will never need support from him or the other younger generations in their household. He has a stable source of income, he could probably make life investments that could cover your yearly living expenses. He has nothing to worry about, he won’t be dropping anything if he decides to take in another mouth to feed. But you…

You’re basically your mother’s retirement plan and now you got pregnant with a kid of a man you barely know. “Y/N, listen to me.” He got down on his knees in front of you, trying to take your hands off of your face as you sob, struggling to catch your breath. What’s going to happen to you now? You didn’t even get to finish the degree that your mother was working her ass off day and night for.

“You won’t have to worry about anything, you know? I’ll handle everything you need—” He trailed, trying to calm you down as he gently grabbed your forearms. “You don’t understand!” You cut him off, snatching your hands away, aggravated that he’s not thinking about how it could affect everything in your life. “Then, what the fuck do you want to do?!” You flinched as he raised his voice at you, breathing hard as he backed away.

“You think you’re the only one who’s going to be affected by this? You think you’re the only one who’s being robbed of another future! Open your fucking eyes, stop being selfish!” Satoru snapped back, harshly taking his glasses off before throwing it across the room. You started to cry, whimpering as you used the collar of your shirt to wipe your tears away.

“I’m scared, Satoru. I’m just so scared. I can’t even take care of myself, how am I supposed to raise a child…” You broke down, turning your body away from him. There was a long pause, a moment of pure silence, save from your sniffs and Satoru’s ragged breathing. 

You felt the couch dip as he sat down before pulling you to him, letting you cry on his chest.  “I know, I know. I’m sorry.” You would be lying if you said that the back rub, the temple kisses, and his whispers of reassurance didn’t calm you down. Those thoughts were recurring in your head and now that you finally let it all out and got answers from him, you were soothed.

You blinked hard, shaking your head to get out of your trance. You went straight to the dolls section. You can’t believe you just had a flashback of Satoru comforting you in the warmth of his chest. Your mouth started to twitch, wishing that he held you like that earlier when his girlfriend was slapping into your face that they’re gonna give your child siblings. It shouldn’t hurt you, but it still did. You realized that this girl, this woman is gonna have everything you wish you had with Satoru.

You walked past the kiddie pools and trampoline section, stopping when you saw a playpen, almost similar to the one Satoru bought for your little girl but smaller. The size doesn’t really matter though, because you know that you don’t have enough space in your place for something so big, anyway. 

Going closer to check the prices, you bit your lip as your eyebrows bumped together. You were calculating your monthly expenses along with the money for your savings in case of emergency. It’s expensive but you’re determined to cut back just to buy it. You kept your eyes on the tag as you took half a step away from it but your back was met by something, or rather someone behind you.

“It’s not cheap, is it?” A man’s deep voice boomed as you turned around, but your eyes were met by a broad chest. He’s big, you thought. He’s literally blocking your view. It didn’t help that you were short enough to have to look up to see his face. He was also staring at the playpen as he held the pushcart beside him.

“Y-yeah…” You answered, a bit awkward as you found yourself admiring the guy. You admired fathers who are active when it comes to their children. You grew up without a father so, you just found it endearing. You looked away from the man, gritting your teeth as an image of Satoru and his girlfriend shopping for baby things appeared before your eyes for a split second.

“Excuse me, sir. I still have to buy my daughter a gift.” You bowed slightly before turning away. He just nodded his head, too occupied to even look at you. You proceeded to check out the little dolls, hoping that you’d find something that’ll really catch your daughter’s eye. Picking up a dark-haired baby doll with big blue eyes sitting on a stroller, you smiled as you remembered how it has the same eyes as your baby.

You went to pay for the doll, and your heart was filled with joy despite the throbbing pain in your skull and the hot feeling behind your eyes. You reminded yourself not to forget to take your medicine. Thinking about getting sick and having to leave your child for a couple of days with them again makes you anxious, afraid that she’ll never want to go home to you again. 

You hurriedly went home, driving in the midst of the rain. You put the little doll on the chair, ready to surprise your baby girl when she comes back. You had to bear with the time, constantly checking your phone if your little girl and her dad are on the way to you. Your heart swelled at the thought. 

Though, you know that you’ll never be the one he comes home to, it’s still nice to think about. 

—--------------------------------

“She really called me Mama.” Naomi giggled as she kissed his daughter’s cheek. Satoru smiled, watching them play together warms his heart. It made him feel like he was staring at his family even if he knows that his daughter isn’t hers. He pursed his lips, remembering the look in your eyes at what you heard the child say.

He felt conflicted, not knowing how to react to all of it. He doesn’t want to embarrass his girlfriend by correcting her in front of you. But he also felt bad that he just watched you walk out that door on the verge of tears. Satoru had you memorized after all this time, it wasn’t a long time but he used to watch everything you do.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, though.” Satoru sighed, shaking his head as he pushed a bit of Naomi’s hair away from her face. Her expression dropped as she adjusted the toddler in her arms. Satoru pulled her close to his side, hugging her waist as he thought about how to explain it to her without making her feel disheartened.

“I’m worried about how Y/N will feel about it, to be honest. I don’t know but it may worry her.” He kissed the side of her forehead before stepping away as he watches his daughter’s eyes look at them. He knows that she’s still too young but he feared that she’ll get confused by all of this. 

Like why is her father not with her mother, and why is he holding someone else?

He wondered if she’ll grow to hate him for giving up on their family. “Oh, Is that so…I thought we were fine already.” Naomi’s voice was quiet as she bit her lip, making Satoru rethink. “It’s not that, I just think that maybe that’s how she might feel.” Satoru took one of her hands, kissing it before rubbing his thumb on her soft skin. “No, I understand, I got too comfortable. I’m just a girlfriend, I shouldn’t have done that.” 

Satoru doesn’t want to make her feel like this, she’s just really attached to his baby. He knows that Naomi adores kids, they often joke around about it, so he could see why she’s excited about his daughter calling her Mama. Thinking about it now, maybe this shouldn’t be so bad. After all, she’s not gonna be just a girlfriend to him forever, right? Naomi is a great person, and Satoru thinks that it’s not impossible to have a future with her.

“Don’t say that. That’s just my assumption. She’ll tell if it’s not alright, I know. We’re co-parenting so we have to talk about those stuff.” Three squeezes to her hands made Naomi smile sweetly at him, her eyes as kind as the stars. “Yeah, discussions are important. I don’t want her to feel like I’m trying to keep her away from us.” The calmness in her voice comforted Satoru.

—-------------------------------------

After receiving a text from Satoru, you found yourself staring at the mirror, retouching your makeup like it’s gonna make him fall for you. Hopeless. Not long after, the doorbell rang and you dashed to the door. There, Satoru stood with Yui asleep on his shoulders. You took her bags, along with the teddy bear that she was hugging to her chest. Seeing her holding it again made you feel relieved.

“Are you feeling better now?” Satoru inquired, walking past you to put your kid in her little bed. You hummed in response, “She’s full, don’t give her any more milk. Naomi fed her before she fell asleep.” Her again. You thought as the small smile on your face dissipated. You’re just thankful that he didn’t take her with them here.

There was a moment of silence as the two of you watched your daughter sleep peacefully. A sigh escaped Satoru’s lips before he turned to you. He was about to say something, but closed his mouth, thinking. You took a deep breath, pursing your lips as you collected your thoughts. You started to rub your hands together, trying to get rid of the cold feeling on your fingertips.

Your communication issues with Satoru only worsened when he got a girlfriend. Seeing how he is with her made you doubt the importance of your words to him. It’s like if you get stuck in a room together with her and something happens, you’re almost certain that he’d accuse you first. You wouldn’t admit it but you yearn for him. You yearn for the way he acts towards her. You yearn for the things he does for her. 

You yearn for the things he so easily, willingly offer to her; things you had to beg for when you were still together.

“Satoru, I just want to ask…Since when did Yui start to call Naomi Mama?” You looked at the ground, somewhat embarrassed of your question but can’t pinpoint why. It just made you feel…weak and insecure. And you are that. But you can’t let Satoru see it. You don’t want him to feel even more sorry for you. You can see it in his and his girlfriend’s eyes whenever they look at you. They probably pity you and the state you are in. 

Alone. With no one to hold your pieces together but you.

“I don’t really remember. Look, I was going to mention that…” Satoru trailed, looking everywhere but you. He probably noticed your discomfort earlier. “I know it doesn’t seem right to you because she’s just my girlfriend but…” Here’s the “but” again. How come he can always find the good when it comes to her, even when she literally did you so wrong by letting your daughter call her Mama and even acting like one in front of you?

Ever since Satoru got a girlfriend, arguing with him started to feel like fighting in a war without any type of armor in your body. How are supposed to stand strong, when the fact that he’ll always be on her side was your weakness? There were times when you wanted to fight for yourself but you couldn’t bear to because you know that he was shielding her from everything, heedlessly deserting you.

“I didn’t really appreciate it. I mean… I-I just think she’s not in the place to—” You thought the words you chose to describe the situation were too risky when you were cut off by Satoru, taking his glasses off. You can’t read him but he’s looking at you with that apologetic gaze again. His face was filled with contrite and you can’t quite understand why. But like a mouse sensing danger, you wanted to run away.

“I…I’m thinking about proposing to Naomi.” It shouldn’t hurt. You told yourself again. You don’t have the right to feel hurt. This man disrespected you, hurt you, and made you feel so incredibly small yet here you are, wishing you were the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with. “I know she’s just my girlfriend now, but it’s bound to change.” You suddenly just wanted him to leave. “She…she’d like to ask for permission to let our daughter call her Mom. You know she treats Yui like she’s her—” 

“I don’t want to.” You whispered firmly through gritted teeth, cutting Satoru off. You don’t wanna hear it anymore. You can’t go through that again and you can’t let that happen again. “Yui is my daughter, and I don’t want her calling anyone else Mama.” You looked up at him with glassy eyes before turning away to walk out of the room, not wanting to startle the toddler from her slumber. Satoru was instantly on your tail, calling your name.

“She’s my daughter, too. Y/n, what is wrong? I know that you have your limitations and that’s why I’m here to talk about it with you, but why are you acting like this?” He walked closer to you, trying to catch your eyes. “I know it’s not just about this, I know you’ve been having problems with her but give a reason, at least. She’s been nothing but good to our kid. ” It’s getting hard for you to breathe as you tried to process your emotions and his questions.

You proceeded to the kitchen, hurrying to grab yourself a bottle of water before you collapse, but failing terribly when Satoru spoke the next sentence “Y/N, we all have to adjust, don’t be unfair to her, she doesn’t deserve it.” 

“And I do?!” You shouted at him, taking him by surprise and making him take a step back. 

“You think she doesn’t deserve any of that shit but I DO?!” You lamented, shaking your head in pain and disbelief. There were tears streaming down your face and no pattern of breathing can help you control it. You were able to keep it in when he shoved his new girlfriend in your face several months ago, but now it’s taking its toll.

You were about to get the clothes that he bought for your daughter on your way home from work but were met with a woman snuggled up to him on his couch. You hated him for allowing you to see them like that when he knows that you haven’t even processed your split yet because a month before that, he was saying that he could fix his shortcomings for you and his daughter. 

You remember how sick you felt in your stomach when he introduced her, saying that you weren’t supposed to see them like that. It’s revolting; how he thought that you were upset because of what you saw and not because he just went back on his words. Naomi kept her head down, standing in front of you as she muttered an apology before scurrying to Satoru’s room. 

Naomi was his father’s new assistant and unlike you, she got to finish her studies. Despite being classmates in high school, she was three years older than you due to the frequent relocation of her family. Regardless of her tough childhood, she was known to be a smart kid. No wonder his mother approved of her in such a short amount of time. 

You and Satoru were never perfect but it doesn’t mean that you were never happy with each other before. The issues overpowered your interest in each other, making it hard for the two of you to bounce back. You admit that you’ve been negligent of Satoru at a certain point of your relationship but it was only because you got tired of his ways.

He would come home late, making you stay up all night because he failed to reply when you texted him, asking him his whereabouts. He’d be out drinking with friends, and it wasn’t a problem but you just wanted him to at least let you know so wouldn’t be worrying to the point that you can’t even sleep.

His mother was overbearing. You got pregnant by someone’s son in a one-night stand and that’s all she paints you with. You were belittled and told that you can’t even take care of the child properly. Hell, was she so eager for Satoru to leave you and find someone better who achieved something in life.

Consequently, this negligence led to fits of jealousy from Satoru. This drove you to quit the job you used to have after a coworker of yours who only wanted to help became the subject of his suspicions. His mother saw you getting dropped off by your friend while she was babysitting your daughter. 

It was only because your car broke down and you don’t want to bother Satoru at work. You couldn’t really blame him for thinking that way because you know that he’s been feeling invisible to you which wasn’t true. You just don’t know how to deal with it anymore and you started to pull yourself away.

It got to the point where you couldn’t even communicate how you truly feel about him because it was overshadowed by your problems. You were arrogant enough to tell him that someone could treat you right and do much better and now, look at you; standing before him and his girl. Longing for him and eating the words you spitefully told him.

Pining so intensely for something you never had to the point where you physically ache.

The memory was tormenting, heart-rending, and traumatic to you. And now you get to watch them write their happy ending while you are here, left in the dust, drowning in the feelings that will never ever get recognized and will never ever be relevant. 

It hasn’t even been a year, and he’s already planning to marry her. He’s been nothing but better to her, yet, he couldn’t even change his ways for you and your child? Couldn’t he learn to truly love you after everything you endured just to be with him? You know that you have flaws, and chose some wrong steps and paths in your relationship. 

But you can’t bear to lose him like this. You know that you could have fought more for your relationship. He’d always say that you’d work things out. So, why did he stop? How could he stop choosing you so easily?

“How could you give her the world, yet refuse me the tiny bit of what I have left?” 

Your voice was small as you backed away, defeated. Satoru couldn’t move. From everything that has happened that morning, he could tell that you’ve been on edge. To Satoru, the only thing that connects you to him is his daughter. He refuses to believe that after all of that, you can still make it work.

At least, that’s the realization he came about when he met Naomi. She taught him that love isn’t supposed to be strenuous, it isn’t always about fighting. Within his tumultuous relationship with you, she came around and showed him that he’s seen. That his feelings are valid. He came to the conclusion that maybe he just wanted to love you because you have a child together. 

“Tiny bit?” He asked, frustrated that you just won’t let this go easily, irked that you always think you’re the only one having a hard time. If Satoru’s being honest, he’s just tired of it all. He just wants you to understand his point and get it over with. But now you’re crying in front of him and again, he doesn’t know what to do. He can’t even think of the right things to say or the right decisions to make. It’s like it’s all back to square one with you.

“You call it ‘tiny bit’ when I couldn’t even live my life because of you?! I’ve given everything, Y/N! I just want to be at peace with everything and I’m obviously not having it with you!” You couldn’t even breathe through the piercing ache in your chest from the daggers that are coming out of his mouth. Your hand reached over to your chest, grasping your shirt as his every word irreversibly pulverized your already wounded heart.

“I wish I never met you that night and I wish I never had Yui with you. You’re a thorn in my side, Y/N!” By the time he finished screaming at you, you were shaking like a leaf, grabbing a chair beside your table as your wide eyes stared at him in shock. Grief, mortification, and agony were plastered on your face, and only then did Satoru’s words sink into him.

“Y/N, I—” Before he could even form a proper phrase, a loud cry erupted from the other room. Yui. He watched as you quickly wiped away your tears, seeing the emotions mix inside your eyes until they turned into a weeping void with all the tears pooling inside them.

“I…I loved you, Satoru. And I hate that even now that you’re kicking me while I’m down for the sake of someone else, I still love you.” The crack in your voice had Satoru subconsciously moving closer to you, opening his arms to pull you into him but you were quick to flinch away, sniveling.

“Please, just—just go. Do whatever you want, just d-don’t take Yui away. I’m fine with it now, Satoru.” It’s almost as though something in you died when he spoke those words to you. You don’t know if he heard because you couldn’t even hear yourself. You could feel the beat of your heart in your chest and each one of them sends a burning ache to your body. “Just go, please.” You whimpered as you bit your upper lip, looking down on the floor. 

Satoru can’t take his eyes off of your fragile figure as you leaned on the kitchen counter, slowly walking back to your daughter’s room. He remained unmoving until you exited the kitchen area. It was only after a few minutes that he decided to go, not bothering to wipe away the tears that rolled down his face as he listened to your muffled cries behind the closed door.

Each sob was filled with anguish that Satoru knows he’ll never be able to erase.

—------------------------------------------------------

A few weeks later have passed yet Satoru still doesn’t know what to make of himself. He couldn’t focus on anything that he works on. He couldn’t even workout properly, he always ends up getting angry. It was a good thing that both he and Naomi were swarmed with tasks; they didn’t have time to interact any more than what their jobs would allow. If they did, Satoru isn’t sure if he’ll be able to focus on her. She still has time to visit every week, though. During those days, she spends her time with Satoru and sometimes, Yui.

He makes sure to free his time and himself completely when he’s with his daughter so he can give his full attention to her. Satoru picks her up from your house, same schedule as before. Sometimes it’s you, but other times, it was your mother. “All I asked of you was to never break her, Gojo.” were the first words she spoke to him. Satoru can’t look her in the eyes. Your mother was a kind woman, humble and unjudging. And to have her talking to him like that, Satoru was beyond ashamed.

He couldn’t give her a reason, or an answer. All he did was apologize. Like he should. Naomi was unaware of it all and the proposal that Satoru was planning for her was set aside due to all that had happened. He just doesn’t think it’s the right time to plan about it when his relationship with you is strained. Yes, you’re not together anymore but you’re still the mother of his child and he wants to be civil with you, at least.

Yui kept asking for you even when she was with him as if sensing that her Mama was hurting. She’s always carrying the new doll that you bought for her. Satoru once asked her if you cry and she would simply shake her head. He gets nothing out of it, of course, she’s just a kid. But who else could he ask?

Satoru has no idea what you have been doing. He knows that you go to work, but other than that, he’s clueless about the places you go to and why your mother started babysitting his daughter more during the past few days. Satoru thought that maybe you just can’t stand seeing him anymore and is refusing to face him whenever he picks his daughter up. You have every right and reason to despise him, after all.

So, now he stands on the other side of your door, wondering if he’ll get to see your face this time or be welcomed with the frowning face of your mother. He knocked three times, like he always does, adjusting the collar of his shirt. To his surprise, it wasn’t any of the two women he was expecting holding the door open for him. 

“Who are you?” A shirtless man with a muscular build stood before Satoru, a curious yet accusatory gaze scanned him like he was an intruder in his own woman’s home. He leaned on his tattooed arm against the doorframe, blocking the tiny view he has of the inside. It pissed him off, clenching his jaw for a few seconds before speaking.

“Who are you?” Satoru bit back, raising his brows in an attempt to intimidate the guy. He’s only a couple of centimeters taller than the stranger but he’s bigger. It wasn’t a big deal to him until the man opened the door wider. A short, deep chuckle escaped his lips before a smug smirk appeared on his face. 

Tilting his head, the man gave Satoru a clear look at the scratches adorning his nape and the purple and maroon marks on his jaw. It made Satoru’s blood boil, unreasonably so.

“Think you know who I am now?” 

PREV | NEXT

taglist: @forever-war @astral-hydromancy @witchbybirth @coeqi @starshinedowo @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn @lost-lonnie @haitanifxn @dearsunaa @mari-ho14 @clairdelunaax @anxious-chick @tigerchaeee @megufushi @yeosmie @tsukkisrightpinky @crowiechan @makimais @infinitemoonlight @iloveblogging2 @cloudsinthecosmos @uchiwife @bellaadonnas @lawlietily @lilxnvm @poopoobuttsy @yihona-san06 @luhvbot @sagekko @lugkuic @asbony @uhremmi @kurookinnie @why-am-i-here-again-shitheads @lelemnh

a/n: just send an ask if u want to be removed :>

[peachypinkygloss]

make you mine — jjk

You never suspected the evil would have taken the form of Jungkook, a hot guy from your college, but when he takes interest in you, you rapidly discover the secret he's hiding.

★ pairing: incubus!jungkook x fem!reader

★ genre: horror, smut, college au, jennifer's body au

★ word count: 5.8k

★ warnings: graphic description of gore (mention of blood & injuries), dub-con, jock!jk, implied inexperienced!reader, dom jk/sub reader, unprotected sex, praising, fingering, multiple orgasms, jk's kinda mean but hey he's evil so 🤷🏻‍♀️.

a.n.: here she is guys 🙈 it was both hard & fun to write lol but honestly the result is *chef's kiss*. read the warnings pls thank you!! im so scared of posting it 🥲

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

Jungkook thinks he never felt that much pain in his whole entire life. It’s like his soul is screaming from the inside out, as if someone stabbed him in the stomach, tearing his guts apart. 

Oh, but that’s actually what happened…

How can he still be alive? He swears he was dead seconds ago, losing liters of blood through the cut in his stomach. But he’s very much conscious right now, getting out of the woods he was brutally murdered in. Well, is it still murder if he survived? 

It doesn’t really matter anymore anyway. All he can think about at this moment is how hungry he is. He would devour anything he can eat, and god, why does the person on the other side of the pavement look so… edible? 

He feels the dried blood dripping from his mouth and his hands stained in the same red substance, holding his stomach where, surprisingly, he is no longer bleeding from.The pain is atrocious, but he needs to fucking eat, and he approaches the person faster. 

The moment they notice him, their eyes grow bigger and they let out a strident scream, but Jungkook gives them no time to leave.

He doesn’t know what in the hell possesses him to jump on that poor human, his teeth becoming sharper than they ever were, shredding their neck in pieces, their screams slowly dying down as he eats like a starved animal.

The fresh blood is coating the dried layer on his chin. He feels like an uncontrollable beast, and he’s literally acting like one right now. No one with a right mind would have ever done this… but it’s like he isn’t a human. 

He was revived from the dead, he can’t possibly be human anymore… 

He has an idea as to why this happened. 

Those girls — that girl band who he seemed so enthralled by — sacrificed him, and for what…? For fame? For money? Whatever it is, they killed the wrong person because obviously the sacrifice didn’t fucking work. 

Well, at least on Jungkook’s side. 

He doesn’t know where they went — probably out of town, living their best life as if they didn’t murder a guy for their crappy albums to get more sales. 

He’s cursed now, or whatever the hell is happening to him. 

He looks down at his victim; it’s a man. 

As he eats, he suddenly feels nauseous, vomiting what he had so far swallowed. A dark liquid comes out of his mouth, and god, it’s even more painful than the cut in his stomach. 

He feels disgusted by himself — why isn’t he full? Eating felt so good, considering how starved he was, but it’s like he ate something … expired. 

Argh, what’s wrong with him… He ate someone’s guts, of course it doesn’t taste like a 5 stars meal. Then why did his instinct tell him to do that? 

That’s fucked up. 

The next few days are horrible for Jungkook. 

After that night, he doesn’t eat anything except for raw chicken and other types of meat that were just not enough to satiate him. It doesn't taste good either. 

He lays in bed most of the time, having no energy, skipping the gym and his practices, which he usually never does. He gets texts from his friends, but he doesn’t bother to check his phone. 

It’s on Sunday night that he decides to leave his bed, going to look at himself in the mirror. He has big dark circles under his eyes — not particularly flattering. He’s still very hungry, but none of the food in his fridge makes him want to eat. 

There’s one thing he’d want, though… 

It’s when he receives a text from a specific person that he knows what to do. 

iseul: hey, gguk. wanna study together for tomorrow’s exam?

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

“Hey, man,” Jungkook’s teammate, Doyun, greets him. “Heard about Hana? That’s fucked up,” he states, walking beside his friend. “And right after Iseul… My parents refuse my sister to go out alone now.”

“Yeah, I heard,” Jungkook replies, not really caring, but still listening. 

It’s not like anybody liked Hana before, he doesn’t understand why everybody suddenly cares now that she’s dead. She needed to die to finally have some importance. How sad. 

She wasn’t that good of a laid either, so really, what’s the matter? Sure, it’s tragic, but who’s going to miss her besides her family. 

“Can’t be an animal at this point,” his teammate says under his breath, “Do you wanna know what I’m thinking?”

Not really…

“What?”

“I’m thinking it’s gotta be some ‘Jack the Ripper’ kinda guy. You know those freaks who wanna be the modern this or that.”

Kind of offensive… 

Jungkook rolls his eyes without Doyun noticing, snickering at his words.

“The police’s saying it’s a bear or some shit,” Jungkook explains, reaching his class. “That’s more believable than your ‘modern Jack the Ripper’.” He mimics quotes with his fingers, stopping in front of the classroom. 

Doyun still doesn’t seem convinced, but it’s not Jungkook’s job to make him less stupid. He can believe what he wants, he’s not an investigator even though he thinks he is. 

“See you at practice, alright?”

“Yeah, later, man.”

Jungkook has never been very attentive in class. He doesn’t care about a lot of things and college is one of them. He wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for his parents and their high expectations of him. 

He’s looking outside the windows, noticing the grey clouds, heavy rain pouring from the sky. A flash of lighting breaks through the sky, hearing the thunder a second after. 

Nobody seems attentive either, all interested in the thunderstorm that’s starting. It might be the strongest they’ve seen in a couple of years. 

“Crap,” the teacher says as the electricity is cut off, surely because of the thunder. 

Girls are gasping, some of them whispering to each other about how creepy the situation has become while the professor waits for the power to get back on, wanting to continue teaching his class. 

Jungkook’s phone lights up as he gets a new notification. He takes a glimpse, reading the text he just received. 

doyun: practice’s canceled.. 

Great, Jungkook thinks. He really needed to get some steam off, but it won’t happen today. 

“Sir!” A girl raises her hand, catching the attention of the professor. “All classes got canceled. Can we leave? Apparently, the power isn’t coming back in a few hours.”

“Well, I won’t teach in the dark…” 

The professor seems quite disappointed, but he lets everyone go back home, seeing no point in staying if he can’t teach. 

While exiting the classroom, Jungkook gets bumped into by someone. He doesn’t move much, but the person drops their books on the floor, bending down to pick them up hurriedly. 

“Shit… Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” you apologize, standing back up when you have all of your books in your arms.

“It’s fine,” Jungkook mumbles and you give him a straight smile, still feeling apologetic. 

He recognizes you from highschool, a girl he never talked to, but who he knew the name of. Then, he watches you walking away for a short moment, eyeing your form up and down, memorizing it. 

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

You’re in the cafeteria, sitting with your friends, waiting for about a good 30 minutes now. The storm from yesterday is still ongoing, and the power is very unstable, cutting off every couple of times.

The finals are scheduled for today and the administration told the students to come regardless of the storm, thinking it would stop during the night. So you’re waiting to be sent to the gym where the exams are usually taking place, but seeing the electricity goes off and comes back every second, it isn’t the best time to start an exam. 

People are free to go, it’s college after all, but most of the students are staying in case a decision is made. You know you wouldn’t want to skip your exam, that’s why you’re staying, even though it is starting to get really long. 

No murder has happened since the beginning of the storm, confirming the police suspicions that it might be a wild animal doing this. A bear wouldn’t come out during a thunderstorm, hence why no bodies have been found or anyone going missing. 

You don’t really know what to think about the whole thing. You never really experienced anything of the sort before, only ever seen it in the news, taking place in a far away city. Now, it’s really different to see it in person, seeing people grieving, freaking out. 

You don’t understand how an animal would do such a thing, especially since they aren’t known to attack humans, or… eat them. But everybody is kind of desperate to find a culprit. 

As you’re looking through your notes, you notice that you’re missing a piece of information that you absolutely need to know for your test. You would ask your friends, but none of them are in this class with you. Plus, you forgot your book so the only solution would be to go to the library. 

The place is lit up by candles and oil lamps. The power doesn’t seem to have come back here. 

The librarian isn’t even here, so you can’t ask her for directions, which would be really useful, but you’ll do without. You go to the biology section and start searching for the book you need. It takes you some time, carefully looking through the shelves until you notice an older edition of the book. You hope what you need is in there.

You start flipping the pages to the right chapter, but you jump out of surprise and drop the book to the floor at the sound of someone else’s voice. 

“Aren’t you supposed to attend your exam?”

It’s the guy you bumped into yesterday; Jungkook. 

What’s weird is that you didn’t at all hear him, you could have swore you were alone in the library. Guess he’s a really quiet walker, hence why you didn’t even see him coming out of the classroom the day before. 

“Uh, y-yeah,” you stammer out, furrowing your brows. You bend down to pick up the book, his eyes following your movements closely. “Just had to come here for this,” you say and show the object in question in your hand. “What about you?”

He leans on the shelves beside him. 

“Didn’t feel like wasting my time back there,” he explains and you nod, not really sure what he wants exactly… It’s not like you’re friends or anything.

You can’t see much of him with the low lighting in the library, but you still catch on the way he’s looking at you intently. It makes you slightly uncomfortable, considering he’s towering over you with all his height. And Jungkook is very tall compared to you. 

“Is- Is there something else you wanted to ask me…?” You manage to let out, voice a bit shaky and uneasy. 

“Are you scared?” he asks casually.

He steps closer to you, and you don’t understand why you don’t step back. It’s like you don’t dare.

“What?”

“The storm. Pretty intense, right?”

Is he really interested to know if you’re scared of storms or is he playing with you? Why would he even play with you in the first place, that’s what you wonder. 

His behaviour really confuses you. It’s true that you don’t know him, but he isn’t the type of guy to just… creep girls out. Maybe it’s not his intention though?

“Oh, yeah… It’s- it’s nothing I've ever seen before,” you confess in a weak voice. 

“Me neither,” Jungkook replies. 

You hold the book against you tighter like it’s some sort of protection, or just as emotional support. You don’t know what’s up with him, but it has you feeling some type of way… 

You feel the knot in your stomach getting tighter as he gets even closer, trapping you between him and the bookshelves. 

Yes, you’re scared, but not of the storm… of him.

And… there’s a part of you that likes it — likes the attention he gives you, the way his dark eyes look at your body. His gaze makes you think of a carnivore, a predator. 

You’re the food he was looking for. 

“It’s really loud, isn’t it?” he observes. “I wonder… if you had to scream, would anybody hear you?”

That startles you right away. 

“Jungkook-” Saying his name seems to catch his attention, his eyes looking directly into yours. “Stop it.”

He doesn’t break eye contact, and you’re destabilized by how long he can hold your gaze, a shiver running up your spine, making the hair on your arms stand up. 

It’s only to whisper in your ear that his eyes leave yours. 

“Stop what exactly?”

His hot breath hits the side of your neck, hearing your heart pounding in your chest, the knot in your stomach becoming heavier and heavier. Your hands clasp around your book, holding onto it for dear life as you gulp down the excess of saliva in your mouth. 

You scrunch your eyes shut when you feel his hands on your hips, fingers sneaking under the hem of your top. Your core heats up, blood rushing to your cheeks… and clitoris. 

“What do you want?” You breathe out, opening your eyes when Jungkook faces you again. 

He takes the book from you, putting it back onto the shelves, not caring if it’s the wrong placement. 

“Just a little bit of fun,” he answers, “wouldn’t you like that, hm?” He slips his index finger under the band of your skirt, pulling you closer to him, his lips only centimetres away from yours. “I know girls like you are too shy to ask for it… So I’m making the first move.” 

“No, I-” You begin, but don’t have the time to finish your sentence. 

“It’s fine, I’m gonna take the lead. You don’t have to worry about anything, pretty,” he tells you, tilting his head and pressing a light kiss to your lips. Surprisingly, you reciprocate it. He pulls his hand away from your skirt, enveloping it around your throat, not putting any pressure yet. “I knew you’d be into it, you’re a little freak, aren’t you?” 

You don’t know what to answer. Is there even anything you can say back to him? What’s the point of lying when he has you trapped between his large body and the bookshelves, his tattooed fingers gripping your neck, his lips brushing over your face. 

But would that be really a lie saying he’s wrong about you? He doesn’t know you…

He kisses you again, this time sloppier, his tongue dominating yours easily. He nudges your legs open with his knee, his other hand swiftly diving under the hem of your skirt, groping your flesh in a lewd way that keeps you out of breath — apart from the fact that his tongue is currently exploring your mouth. 

He graces the bump of your pussy covered by your panties with his fingers, making your knees buckle at the unexpected contact. He rubs the pad of his middle finger over your clit, a whine escaping your throat, muffled by his mouth on yours. The moment is brief until he slips his hand into your underwear. 

You try to make him stop by grabbing his wrist, pulling away from his lips to pathetically whisper a ‘p-please’ that makes him chuckle. 

“Already begging for me, sweetheart?” He softly laughs, smirking at you. “Excited by the idea of a guy’s fingers in your little cunt instead of yours? Is that it?”

You frown because that wasn’t the reason why you begged him, but now that he said this… your thoughts are going into a completely different way. What’s wrong with you?

“Do you wanna know how it feels, baby? How it’s like to have your pussy stuffed by someone else’s fingers…” 

He’s not waiting for an answer as he starts stroking your bud of nerves in slow circular motions, applying some pressure to really make you feel it. You let out another whine, this time of pleasure. 

Jungkook then shifts down to your entrance, circling it with a lot of delicacy, but this gentleness of his doesn’t go on for long as he pushes a finger into you. You bite down on your bottom lip — the size of his fingers are in no comparison to yours. Your eyes swell up in water, little cries escaping your mouth when he adds a second digit. 

“I know, I know,” he whispers, “must be uncomfortable, hm?” You nod your head, confirming his words. “It’ll feel good soon, I promise. You’re used to the feel of your tiny fingers, it’s normal…”

When he says this, you have a hard time believing him. How could it feel good when you weren’t at all prepared for this — when it’s not what you wanted. 

He begins to move his fingers inside of you, slow and long strokes at first, circling your clit with his thumb at the same time. He curls his fingers, making a little hook, patting your sweet spot. The intrusion is uncomfortable, but it progressively gets so much more pleasurable as he thrusts into you at a regular pace. 

Tears are still falling down from your eyes, eyelashes wet and sticky, but they aren’t the result of your pain… 

“You’re pretty when you cry,” Jungkook murmurs beside your ear, butterflies in your stomach when he tells you this. 

He unwraps his hand from your throat to instead grab your thigh, placing your leg around his hip. You now feel his fingers way deeper inside of you, gently and deliciously stimulating your g-spot. You dare to look down where his left hand is operating between your thighs, sliding in until he’s knuckles deep into your pussy. This makes you breathless, head rolling back on your shoulders and hitting the shelves behind you. 

“Oh, my god-!” You exclaim when Jungkook’s ministrations bring you so close to your orgasm. Your legs are twitching, your body warning you of your approaching high.

You’d probably be more aware of his hard cock trapped in his baggy jeans, but you literally cannot focus on anything else other than Jungkook fingering you, hitting your sensitive spot each time he thrusts in. 

“That’s it, baby,” he encourages, moving faster. “You feel it? Huh?” He asks and you croak out a weak ‘yes’. “Tell me how it feels.”

You hate his questions — you hate them so much. He knows how you feel, but he wants you to say it, he wants you to say that you enjoy it, and… your body really does. 

“G-Good.”

“Yeah?” he breathes out, fucking your cunt with his fingers, enthralled by the little moans you let out.

“Yes,” you confirm, closing your eyes and nodding your head. “Fuck!” You curse out when you finally reach your high, grasping onto his forearm as you ride out your orgasm, your entire body shaking. 

Jungkook helps you by slowly rubbing your puffy clit in circles, telling you more dirty words in your ear, all said in the sweetest voice, as if what he’s doing can be described as anything sweet. 

“Good girl,” he praises, “see, I told you it’d feel great.”

He still has his head in the crook of your neck, and you frown at the feeling of sharp teeth against your skin. It’s barely there, just brushing over it, as if hesitating to act… but Jungkook retrieves back, looking into your reddened eyes. 

He could stop there, but he won’t — though he got what he wanted, he needs more… 

He pulls his hand out of your panties, fingers glistening in your arousal. “Open wide for me, baby,” he instructs. 

You glance at his hand, a little repulsed. You’ve never thought about tasting yourself and it’s surely nothing you’d have ever done… if not for Jungkook. 

You then reluctantly open your mouth and he enters his wet fingers in. 

“Suck,” he adds on, expecting you to follow his orders, and you do without a second thought. 

He stares down at you while you lick his fingers clean and he slides them a bit deeper, pushing down on your tongue. The taste of yourself isn’t what you thought it’d be… It doesn’t taste much, in fact. 

He removes his fingers from your mouth only to put them in his own after. “As sweet as you are,” he grins. “Turn around.”

You hesitate for a second, looking at him credulously, before doing what he asked you to do on trembling legs. 

“Are you…?” You say under your breath, looking over your shoulder and seeing Jungkook pulling the zipper of his pants down. 

“Going to put my cock into you?” he finishes your question for you. “Yeah, I am.”

You stop breathing at his answer, sensing his deft fingers touching your thighs and hips, going under your skirt to drag your panties down. 

He soon gets his cock out of his briefs, pumping himself a couple of times before aligning his head with your dripping wet entrance. His tattooed hand keeps your skirt crumpled up over your ass, laying the other one on your hip. 

“Careful, sweetheart,” he says softly beside your ear, “because this might sting a little bit more than two fingers.” He swipes the head of his cock through your sticky folds and all you can do is moan pathetically at the feeling, lewd, wet noises echoing in the big library. 

You can’t see his length even with the way you contort your head to look over your shoulder, but you’re still able to see his chest and hips moving as he pushes his cock into your pussy. Though you have no idea what he looks like, the painful feeling of your cunt getting stretched out to his size tells you he’s really big. 

And he was right. This hurts way more than his fingers, the two feelings are not comparable at all. 

“Jungkook-,” you cry out, holding the shelves in front of you till there’s no more blood in your knuckles. 

He hears you, loving the sounds you’re making because of him and the way you say his name with eyes full of tears. When he bottoms out inside of you, his pelvis flushed against your ass, he lets out a low grunt and throws his head back, closing his eyes to savour the pleasure entirely. 

You involuntarily clench around him, making him tighten his grip on your hip. He then starts thrusting into you, his cock sliding in and out of your pussy at a slow but harsh pace. Each time he bottoms out, Jungkook makes sure the skin of his thighs slap against your ass, the sounds almost as loud as your little moans and whimpers. 

But the storm is so intense and noisy that he’s pretty sure nobody else in the library could hear you — if there was anyone here apart from the two of you anyway. 

Your wetness allows him to fuck his cock into your pussy back and forth, welcoming him so perfectly without any restriction. It’s almost impossible for him to not hit your sweet spot, and he reaches so much deeper when he lifts up your thigh with the hand that was previously placed on your hip. 

You don’t know how long you can stay in this position, especially when Jungkook’s drilling his hard cock into you like nothing else matters. It’s like he needs it from you, and as the pleasure only builds up in you, you start thinking you need it desperately, too. 

You’re breathing heavily, and so is he, feeling his hot breath on your neck when he tilts his head down closer to yours. You can clearly hear his breathing now as well as his deep grunts that leave his mouth every time your walls close tightly around his girth, literally sucking him in. 

“Shit,” he curses out as he pushes lightly on your back, deepening the arch of it so your ass is flushed against his pelvis. “How could I have ever passed over you… You’re so- fuck,” Jungkook chokes out, not finishing his sentence, but you have a guess on what he wanted to say. 

He then kisses your neck pretty messily, but it only raises the temperature of your body, your skin boiling hot under his soft lips. He leaves a wet trail behind, going up to your ear, down to your shoulder. 

Telling him to stop isn’t even possible anymore, it wouldn’t make any sense… would be absolutely stupid when you’re so close to your second orgasm. 

As he thrusts into you, his balls smack your pussy, and the sounds are just too vulgar, but it’s honestly arousing you so much. Jungkook lets go of your thigh to take a hold of your jaw, turning it around so he can look at your face. 

Your mouth is ajar to let out big puffs of air, and it’s the same for him, his breathing being irregular and heavy. He didn’t think he would ever need something that badly, which is making you his, surprisingly enough. 

Making you his in whatever way possible; whether it’s by fucking you or eating you — or both. Jungkook doesn’t care, he just wants it. 

It doesn’t take long for your second orgasm to pass through you, arms and legs shaking as the knot at the pit of your stomach snaps. Jungkook feels it very clearly, your walls hugging his cock terribly tightly, bringing him closer to his own orgasm as well.

“Holy fuck,” he hisses, his hip thrusts accelerating, literally burying his cock in your cunt until he slips out. He rapidly strokes himself and cums on your ass, strings of white cum falling on you. “Oh, god…”

He stays in this position for a couple of seconds, catching his breath. He then slightly backs away, making sure to keep your skirt crumpled up over your butt, looking at the mess he made of you. 

Suddenly, you both catch on the voices entering the library, making you rush to dress up and clean yourselves — especially you. 

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

You’re in your bedroom, studying and writing down on your notebook while lying down on your bed. It’s relatively quiet in your house, hearing the TV downstairs playing and the ceiling fan above your head running. 

The ringtone of your cellphone breaks the silence, buzzing on top of your bedsheets. It’s a number that you don’t recognize, but the first digitals show you that it’s a number from your area. So you pick it up. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, pretty.”

“Uh, who is this?” You ask the person on the other side of the line because you have no idea who would call you like this. They must know you.

“Take a guess,” they say, and their tone is oddly a little flirty. 

You frown, starting to remember where you heard this voice for the last time… And in which situation exactly. 

“... Jungkook?” 

He laughs at that and you can imagine the cheeky smile he’s sporting right now. 

“You got it,” he replies, “see, I knew you’d remember me.” 

You immediately feel uneasy despite the fact you’re just talking through the phone, but things have happened since your encounter with Jungkook.

Things such as more dead girls, all brutally murdered by this ‘animal’. 

You suspected nothing until you noticed how tired looking Jungkook was a day or two after what happened in the library. Normally, you wouldn’t have looked at him, but you literally couldn’t get him out of your head after how intimate the both of you had been together. 

Each time he was in the same hallway as you, you’d give him a glance and nothing more as you were too shy to talk to him or even look at him for too long. 

But sometimes you dared to watch him a little longer when he didn’t know you were in the same room as him. 

And you saw the dark circles, the bad attitude he had with his friends, and the disdain look he seemed to give to everybody. You also saw him get in his car with a girl. You were jealous for a second, but you felt totally different the next day when that same girl went missing and that Jungkook seemed to be doing fine again. 

At first, it was just silly thoughts, but it was too strong of a coincidence, you couldn’t think about anything else. 

“Yeah…” You say back, shoulders tense as you sit up on your bed. “How did you get my number?” 

“Asked Doyun for it,” he simply explains. “You did a project back in highschool together. Remember?”

You do remember. You were so stressed out about it. Paired with a popular jock? You believed the teacher was against you, but it turned out that Doyun was way nicer than you thought.

“Luckily, you didn’t change numbers.”

Lucky for who?

“Right,” you huff out, looking through your window, a shiver passing through you at the thought of Jungkook hiding somewhere.

“What’re you doing?” he asks.

“Uhm, just studying… Why?” 

“Wanna go out with me?” Jungkook proposes after a few seconds of silence. 

You look through your window again. It’s dark outside. This would be such a bad idea… 

“It’s 9 p.m. on a Thursday night,” you begin, sounding way too bitchy for his liking, “where would we go? And why would I even go out with you…”

“The park’s always open,” he adds.

“What-”

“Relax. Nothing bad gonna happen, alright?" his voice resonates through the phone, hearing a slight laugh after. "I miss you, that's all."

You bite down on your lip, shaking your head to get all of your stupid thoughts away. As much as you hate to admit it, you love hearing that from Jungkook. That’s all you wanted him to say since he left you in the library… tell you he needs you as much as you need him. 

But this isn’t the time for that — there won’t ever be another time anyway. 

You respond nothing and so he takes it as a yes. “I’ll come pick you up in 10 minutes. Put something pretty on,” he chuckles, hanging up. 

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

The park isn’t an open space with benches and a fountain. It’s basically the woods where you go for hiking. There are paths you can follow that will all lead you to the same place at the end. 

You could have thought of something smarter, or less dangerous, but you didn’t have any time. Jungkook showed up at your entrance precisely 10 minutes after he hung up and you weren’t exactly ready to see him just yet. 

You had to get in his car anyway, the whole ride being quiet until you arrived at your destination. Your stomach churned up the moment you entered the woods, Jungkook behind you. 

Your heart is still beating super fast right now, whether it’s because you’re absolutely scared or because Jungkook is kissing you feverishly, it doesn’t matter. You can’t do this, and you don’t know how it might end for you if you let yourself be distracted by him. 

“Jungkook,” you manage to say between kisses. You push harder on his chest, making him stop from putting his tongue in your mouth. “We need to talk,” you say firmly. 

“About what?” he chuckles, diving back down to the crook of your neck where he plants wet kisses, his hand sneaking up under your dress while the other holds your hip. 

You squirm, fighting hard to not let yourself give in to his touch. 

“I saw… I saw Jia and you getting into your car the other day,” you confess and he backs away from your neck when he hears that, looking intently at your face. 

“And? You were jealous, is that it?” He questions, lifting one eyebrow. 

“No! I mean-,” you answer right after, thinking about what to say and how to say it. “She went missing the day after you saw her, and-”

Jungkook gets visibly annoyed, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth. He lets go of you, still looking at you, but not with lustful eyes anymore. 

“What? What are you trying to say, huh?” He huffs out. “That I killed her? Fucking crazy.”

You feel bad. Is he really guilty?

He has to be. You know he is. 

“Back in the library,” you begin to say, “were you… did you intend to kill me?” You eventually say it all, breath caught in your throat as you watch Jungkook registering your words. 

He sighs, “why would it matter?” You frown at that, about to respond, but he steps closer to you, trapping you between him and the tree again. “Just let me take care of you, gonna make you feel good, baby…” 

He slips his hands under your dress so rapidly that you don’t have any time to react, immediately overwhelmed by his groping and his lips all over you. 

But you get back your senses, using all your force to push him away. You succeed to have a safe distance between the two of you.

“So you’re admitting it!? You wanted to- to do the same thing to me!”

“No,” he disagrees, his voice harsh, sounding quite annoyed. “I just wanted- Fuck!” he exclaims angrily, but it’s like he doesn’t know what to say. 

“You could have everybody you wanted, Jungkook,” you state, looking him into the eyes, “why me?”

He looks back at you and you wonder how you couldn’t have seen it before… The evil. 

“Why not? You’re hot, kinda a stuck-up, but I had to try it, you know,” he chuckles. “For a nerdy girl, you sure know how to take dick.”

It angers you to a point… 

“Fuck you!”

And without thinking twice, you reach down to pick up the pocket knife you hid in your boot before. 

You open it and you rush toward Jungkook, stabbing him in his lower stomach. You retrieve the knife a bit too hastily, resulting in you dropping it and falling down on your butt to the ground. 

Jungkook also falls down, holding onto his stomach, red blood dripping out of his cut onto his hands. He yells out many curses, sucking air through his teeth to appease the pain as much as he can. 

You watch him, startled and out of breath, eventually turning around and searching for your knife. When you find it, you get back up and to Jungkook, but he isn’t there anymore.

He has completely disappeared. 

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

.

.

.

[vnti-vntiety-recs]

PAGES OF A HEART (M)

★  PAIRING: HockeyPlayer! Haechan x reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 9k

★ GENRE(S): strangers to lovers, Hate to love, Smut

☆ SUMMARY: You have been begging your campus librarian to let you join the staff for ages, but when she finally lets you on, you’re disappointed to find out that the campus’s star hockey player also joins. Can the two of you work things out after a rough start?

★ ☆ WARNINGS: Sexual intercourse, Unprotected sex, 

☆★ NOTES: Wrap it before you tap it. This was supposed to be fluff but I was weak and had to do hate to lovers. Like lol, I bet no one can guess my favorite trope! Bickering is my love language ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Leave nice comments, please <3 

Peace, escapism, and silence.

That is what you usually find when you go to the library. You love going to the library, whether it be to study, read or just get away from your normally hectic dorm. Today is different, though; today you will find all of those things and more. 

When you walk into the library, you greet Mrs. Lee as normal. She was the sole staff member of your college's small, cozy library. Mrs. Lee takes immense pride in her job and refuses to work with anyone else. She is very particular about the upkeep of the books, and honestly, you love her for that. The books stay in pristine condition thanks to her care. Even the dean has acknowledged her efforts. Ever since she took over the library, the campus has had to spend less money on maintenance, so he doesn't feel the need pressure her to hire more staff.

The only downside is that if Mrs. Lee gets sick, they’ll have to close the library since there is no one else to run it. Luckily, that hasn't happened yet, but you've made it your life mission to make sure it never does. You love going to the library, and you have been trying to convince her for months to let you join the staff. You weren't even asking for full-time, just maybe on the days she wanted to take some time off. You think you’re making progress; she gave you a “maybe” last week instead of a flat-out no.

You make your way to your favorite spot in the library before someone else gets to it. Normally, you arrive at the library as soon as it opens every day to secure your preferred spot. It's a little overkill because not many students wake up at 7 to make it to the library, but it was close to finals, so you wouldn't be surprised to see a few faces. Today you were only 5 minutes later than usual, but it seems that's all it took. 

Right there, sitting in the nook at the large window in the back corner of the library, is the prettiest man you have ever laid eyes on. The morning light shone over his tan skin like it was honey. His cute, plump lips blow at the messy hair that hangs in his eyes. He shifted his soft brown hair back with his hand before flipping to the next page in his book. 

Speechless.

You couldn't do anything but gawk at the man who sat in your designated seat. Normally, you would have passive-aggressively walked by the person, giving them an evil look, on your way to find somewhere else to sit, but you couldn't even manage that. You were expecting him to catch you with your mouth hanging open, but you caught yourself off guard with what you did next. 

He's struggling again to brush his hair out of his face, and you can't take it anymore. Your feet move before you can think and your hands are not to far behind as they dig in your bag for your spare headband. You kept one of those soft, stretchy headbands in your bag just in case you wanted to keep your hair out of your face.

In just a quick few steps, your standing in front of him, hand outstretched, offering up your headband. When he looks up at you, your breath almost catches. He is so freaking handsome. Before, it was impossible to notice, but his face and neck are covered in the most beautiful beauty marks, resembling stars. Up close, his lips appear soft, and he looks at you with the roundest doe eyes. You will not have this fine man thinking Your a weirdo So you force the air back into your lungs and speak to him.

“I'm sorry, I just thought you might want this... for your hair,” you say awkwardly. 

"Thank you; my coach keeps telling me I should cut it," he says with a soft smile, taking the headband from you. Placing the book down, he raises his hair out of his eyes with the headband. He had such a beautiful face that it should have been illegal for his hair to ever cover it up. You steal a quick peek at the book he was reading while he occupies himself with that. 

Oh Lord, you might actually be in love. He was reading a book by one of your favorite authors. The book he was reading was the final installment in a series you have been reading since high school. The book was actually just published a few months ago. You try so hard not to look like a fangirl, but you figure since he's reading it, he'll understand.

“Oh my God, is that midnight’s crossing? I just finished that book last week. The series is so good I love Vora; she's one of my favorite characters! She had such a well-written character arc in the second book.” You gush on about the book. You don't want to sound like your rambling so you cut your rant short. His soft smile makes you feel comfortable and you return it shyly.

“Yeah, I actually only just picked up the series recently. Normally, I don't have much time to read but I couldnt put the book down. I read the first three books in one month.” Clearly more interested in the conversation than you had initially assumed, he sits up a little straighter. “Vora was an alright character, but I think Theo is a more interesting character. I think that's why I'm really enjoying this book because it centers more on his backstory.” 

Theo!? Maybe your not so in love. Theo wasn't a terrible character, but he was definitely written to appeal to a male audience. Theo’s character was your typical macho man; you didn't really care that much for his story line. 

The poor guy doesn't even know his favorite character was going to get killed off in this book. One would think he would have noticed how strange it was that a minor supporting character would suddenly have a backstory in the series' final book. You had seen this pattern before, and it usually ended up in a character's death

“Theo’s alright,” you say. “He's gonna get a crazy fight sequence near the end.” 

His face lights up, and he shows you a beautiful, toothy grin. “really!? I can't wait; I've been waiting on them to give him a good fight!” 

You almost feel bad for…..”What was your name?”

“Haechan, and you?”

You tell him your name and let him get back to his book. He would soon find out that Theo's grand battle would be his last, and you did not want to stick around for that. It was a small prank in good fun. Sure, he was insanely handsome, but he stole your favorite spot. Not to mention, he thinks your favorite character is mid. You go find another corner and crack open your own book. You read for about 2 hours before you have to scurry off to your morning classes

Wood, leather, ink, and coffee

That's what you smell when you walk into the library saturday morning. You love the smell of the library. It's so earthy and cozy that you can't help but feel at home in the confines of its four walls. 

You got side tracked yesterday but today would be different. Today you were certain you would convince Mrs.Lee to let you check out books on the other side of the counter for once. You stroll in on time, no later than 7 a.m., and march your way over to her desk. 

Before you can even open your mouth to do your weekly pleading, she beats you to it.

“Yes! You can help out!” She huffs exasperatedly. “I only have so many years left to live, and each day you bother me, it's like I'm wasting my last precious moments.” 

Geez, you didn't think you got under Mrs. Lee’s skin that badly. Oh well, it paid off in the end! You were official! You were the only other staff member in the library. You felt so honored; you earned this!

“I would be more than happy, Mrs. Lee! I’ve been waiting for this for months. I won't let you down!” You beam.

Mrs. Lee gives you a warm smile and places a congratulatory hand on your shoulder. “I've been thinking about what you said, and you’re right. I can't stay cooped up in this library forever. I want to start a garden at home, but I’ve never had the time.” 

“That's great! I hope all goes well!” You encourage the older women. "So, when do I start?”

“In just a few moments, actually. I'll need to show you guys around the staff room and  how I like things organized,” she sighs, getting her pen and clipboard ready.

“You guys?” You question. You are praying you heard her incorrectly. Who else could Mrs. Lee trust enough to help run the library? Hell, as far as you knew, she only ever spoke to you! 

"Yes, we have another person joining us this morning. My grandson needs some extra credit, so I agreed to sign off on it if he helped out around here.” 

"So, where is he?” You ask

“Should be here soon; I told him I'd make his coach bench him if he were late,” she grits her teeth in annoyance. 

Like clockwork, the doors to the library open, and there he is, just a few feet away from the main desk.

“Theo!?” you say in shock

“Theo? No, That's my grandson” Mrs. Lee corrects 

“Its Haechan, and your a liar,” he corrects bitterly. 

Welp…It looks like He finished the book

“i didn't lie! He fought valiantly! ” You argue,

“He died!” he quips back, rolling his eyes as he makes his way to the counter. He slings his backpack on the surface and props himself up against it,leaning across to scowl in your face.

"Well, maybe if he—” you continue, but Mrs. Lee interrupts you.

“Children please! Goodness gracious, act your age and cut this out!” She exclaimed in disappointment. “We have far too many things to cover”

“Yes Mrs.lee”

“Yes grandma”

She gives him a stern look and he straightness himself immediately “Yes, mrs.lee”

Mrs. Lee showed you two around the library and the staff room before she went on a long-hour rant explaining exactly how she wanted the books to be organized and cared for. You listened intently and took notes. You would sneek peaks at Haechan from time to time, and he just stood there, nodding along to everything she said. No way was he listening! The stupid jock doesn't belong here! What sport did he even play? He was too handsome to be put out on a field! You were half way through cooking a plan to find his coach and giving them a piece of your mind for potentially ruining such a beautiful face, but then you realized you were supposed to be upset at him.

“are you even listening?” you whisper once Mrs Lee has her back turned. 

“Mind your business, Vora!” He says it with a lazy roll of his eyes. “You know, that's probably why you like her so much; she's so holier than thou. You must think your so righteous.” He slanders you.

Your forehead creases in aggravation. “Yeah, says the Theo simp! He's such a meathead; all he can think of is fighting, which is exactly why he ended up dead!” you spit back.

He opens his mouth to challenge you, but Mrs. Lee turns around before he can.

“Alright, I think that's everything, kids. Did I go to fast? Were you able to understand me? Maybe I should explain. It's one more time-”

“NO!” You both yell in unison.

“We got it, Mrs. Lee; seriously, I promise.” You smile confidently at her.

“ok then. Well, I'll head out early today and leave the rest up to you. I'll come back later to see how your doing.”

You try to stay positive. This wouldn't be so bad, right?

It's not that bad. If you call two hours of complete silence “not that bad,”

You did not expect your relationship with the cute boy who first caught your eye to turn out like this. You felt bad; Haechan did nothing wrong to you. His only crime was relating to a character that you were almost certain was written as satire. And trash-talk your favorite character. And stealing your favorite spot in the library that one time....ok maybe he had a few crimes under his belt, but they were nothing too serious.

Other than the egregious silence, things were going smoothly. You thought he wasn't paying attention, but you soon found out he was paying attention even more than you. You are honestly grateful that he was here; otherwise, you would have been stuck with a very angry Mrs. Lee lecturing you for two hours on not properly shelving the books. 

"Look, I'm sorry ok? This silence is driving me crazy. Can't we put this behind us?” You crack.

“You started it, princess.”

"Oh, that's really mature of you to point fingers,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“What, then is it my fault? I just wanted to enjoy my book.” Haechan glares at you.

He had a point. You two had started off fine until you started bagging on his favorite character. 

“Hey, I'm trying to do the mature thing and apologize; work with me here,” you say while organizing the checked-in books and preparing them for Haechan to shelve later. You figured he was a little better at that than you were, so you allowed him to fully take over the duty.

He looks up from his spot at the computer. He was fulfilling a request from a student to have a book ordered over from a different campus.

Haechan hits the submit button and sighs. “If we’re going to get through this, we're going to have to at least tolerate each other,” Haechan says.

“Fake besties in front of Mrs. Lee?” You suggest and hold a hand out in a truce.

He shakes your hand in return and gives you a devilish smile. “Don’t let me catch you on campus princess”

“Wouldn't count on it.” 

Sure, technically, you two didn't completely make up, but at least you made progress. At least the tension is alleviated. Sure, you could stick your nose in a book and ignore each other for your entire shift, but Mrs. Lee would kill you if she caught you slacking off. Making small talk with Haechan was the only way to make it through the day. Not to mention you enjoy watching the way he tilts his head in annoyance, tongue in cheek, when you ask him a million questions to pass the time.

“YOU GET TO SPEND TIME WITH THE LEE HAECHAN!? GOALIE OF THE NEO HOCKEY TEAM?” your roommate raves. “AND YOUR ONLY TELLING ME THIS NOW!”

“Jeez Rina I didn't think it was that big of a deal? Plus, it's only been a week,” you say. 

You were lounging around your dorm room when you explained your recent absence to your roommate. She was hounding you for details on where you had been. She assumed you were off sleeping around, but unfortunately for her and her everlasting need for drama, you've been spending time taking care of the library. You didn't think she would get that much entertainment out of it until you made the mistake of mentioning Haechan.

“Yea right! Every girl on campus has their eye on him! He's one of the star players! All he ever has time for is practice! and now apparently, library dates.” she adds.

“They are NOT dates. We can barely stand each other.” you argue. You lay on the old spring mattress and look up at the ceiling 

You didn't know he was such a big deal. Sure, he was handsome, so you assumed he was pretty popular, but this was a different ballpark. 

“I have seriously never seen him anywhere off the ice; how are you getting him all alone? Come on, tell me your secrets,” she pries. She probably thinks there's something going on, but you swear up and down there isn't.

“His grandma is making him help out around the library. Something about him needing extra credit or something? I don't know, but you're giving me a headache.” You didn't want to think about it. 

No wonder the man had such an ego. A Star hockey player? What was he even doing in the library? You had a million more questions you wanted to ask him next time you saw him

Today Haechan was forcing you to help him shelve the books. You usually just leave him to do it, but you guys had a few carts full of returned books that needed shelving. You two were towards the back of the library, finishing up the last of the books, when he decided to press your buttons. 

You see, you and Haechan were on better terms than when you first started, but you two are still at odds on occasion. There was definitely still tension as you went at each other's throats.

“Isn’t it kind of sad to spend all your time at the library? You don’t have any friends?” He says.

“This is fun for me,” you explain simply.

“This is fun?” He asks.

“What do you consider ‘fun’?” You ask. “Don’t you play sports? What's fun about chasing a ball?” You ask.

"Its hockey,” he corrects, shelving another book. 

“Oh? And somehow you can read?”

He turns to you slowly, and you can practically feel the frustration rolling off of him.

“I know your only friends are the characters in your little books, but real people have hobbies. Find one and leave me alone.” he says

You had about thirty minutes before Mrs. Lee came back to check on you two, and you had a few things you wanted to get off your chest.

“Yeah, like your real hobby isn’t getting a puck knocked into your numb skull? Tell me Haechan, what do your teammates think of you spending time with your nose stuck in a book instead of being on the ice?” 

“Go fuck Yourself”

“Only if you watch me” You grin back at him smugly.

He licks his teeth, sends you a devilish smile in disbelief, and leans down to meet your eyes.

“You are so lucky my grandma likes you.”

“Or what?” you ask, taking a teasing step back. You knew what game you wanted to play. You weren't just some bookworm; you were a cat, and Haechan was a mouse that you were dying to play with.

He takes another step towards you, almost closing the distance between you, but stops short when he hears the sharp click of heels walking towards you two.

“Smile and play nice,” he grits out with a plastic smile before turning to face his grandma.

“Oh my, nice work, you two! It looks like everything's been put up properly,” she says as she runs her hands along the spines of a few books, checking that the author's names are in alphabetical order. “You seem to be getting along just fine too! How sweet!” 

“Couldn't be any happier to work with uh…her” Haechan feigns like he forgot your name.

You know that Dipshit didn't forget your name; he just wanted to piss you off. Play nice, my ass.

"Yes, Mrs.Lee Haechan has been doing a wonderful job. I think he really deserves that extra credit.” 

He looks suspiciously at you.

“Oh yes, I think so too dear, but I wouldn't want to leave you here all day by yourself. We can still use him for a little while longer”

The realization hit him a beat later. You figured if you told his grandma how good he's doing, she would give him the extra credit already, and then he would have no reason to stick around. 

“I do wish I could tell his coach how well he's doing on his extra credit. I’ve just been so busy these days,” Mrs.Lee says.

It had taken some time, but you had finally put it together. He was doing this so he could play in the upcoming season! He must have been benched due to not passing a class; now he was stuck here doing extra credit. That explains the extra free time he has and why he's not on the ice as much.

No pass, no play.

"Well, Mrs. Lee, I can always send a message to his coach for you?” You offer.

"Well, that would be perfect, sweetheart. Here, I have some things in my office that I want you to take to him when you get a chance. Come now,” she waves you over as she shuffles excitedly to her office.

You follow behind her closely and send a quick grin over your shoulder at Haechan's stunned shock. You were playing a dangerous game with him. No one comes between him and the ice.

Did you want to end up in an all-out war with the Neo's goalie? Absolutely not, but that's exactly how the last few days have played out. Coach Choi wouldn’t be back on campus until Friday, so you had a few days to hang Haechan's fate over his head.

“Just wait until Mr. Choi finds out you called me a bitch” You would say when he was mean to you.

“You think Mr. Choi will let you play if he finds out your trying to skip out on library duty to go party?” You told him one day when he came to you asking to cover a shift for him.

If Haechan heard you say Mr. Choi one more time, he was going to lose it. First of all, it was Coach Choi, and he was sure his coach was still going to let him play; he was one of their star players. Haechan wasn't going to just sit back and let you bully him; he had a few tricks up his sleeves too.

“Grandma, I mean Mrs.Lee I brought you some fresh fruit; you can eat it with the tea I made you,” he says sweetly to his grandmother. 

“Oh, what a sweet boy! I knew working at this library would do you some good,” she gushes over him. 

She has been raving about her adorable grandson and how wonderful he was for the entire week. You knew it was all an act. He knew the most important thing to you was being Mrs. Lee's favorite.

For every “Mr.Choi” you threw at him, he would get a “sweet boy” from Mrs. Lee in return.

It didn't end there, though. Some of the Neo's are popping in more frequently now. It had been almost every day now that your favorite spot was occupied by some stupid, hocky jock with a pretty girl sitting on his lap. You had been looking forward to spending all day in your favorite nook after Mrs. Lee told you she only needed Haechan for the day. Now, as you shuffle around the tall bookcases of the library looking for a new spot, Haechan just smiles at you from over the counter.

Taking Mrs. Lee's praise was one thing, but desecrating your favorite spot with smelly hockey gear was another.

"Who stocked the books last?" Mrs. Lee calls out after doing her end-of-shift walk-through. She still didn't fully trust you and Haechan, so she would always walk through after you were done for the day.

"I just finished stocking them a few minutes ago," Haechan replies from the computer behind the counter. Somehow, he was able to run DOOM on the outdated computer system.

"I must be too lenient with you these days; you're making mistakes. I think you need more time with the book to learn their proper place!" She scolds

"What are you talking about I—"

"You shelved a book that hasn't been checked back in! I have been looking for this book all week! It was only thanks to Y/N that I found it" She finishes, waiving around a copy of Macbeth.

"I definitely checked that in!"

"No excuses! You're working the library all week by yourself if you still want that extra credit," she finalizes. All you can do is grin over her shoulder as he sends you a death glare.

Today was Friday meaning, all the fun was soon to be over. Haechan was let off easy, he was supposed to work today. Mrs. Lee wanted the library to herself today; she said she missed the smell of the books. You hope you didn't have to run into him, you had to focus on your meeting with Mr. Choi today.

It was midday when you decided to finally make your way over to the gym. You pull your jacket on, knowing it would be cold where you were going. As much as you tease him, you weren't actually going to say anything bad about Haechan to his coach. As much as you hate to admit it, you did believe he deserved that extra credit. He had been doing a really good job in the library. 

You finally reach your destination and push open the polished white doors to the gym. It was like the building was brand new; everything looked pristine. You were jealous that this was where all the school funding was going and not to the poor library, which could definitely use a remodeling. You shake the thought from your head and you walk further into the building.

In the center of the building was a huge ice rink, and surrounding it were cushined stands that almost reached the ceiling. Massive. That's all you could think of when you took in the scenery.

You snap out of your dazed state and scan the arena. You see movement on the ice and notice a blur of messy hair and tan skin effortlessly making its way across the ice. 

Haechan was running drills up and down the ice, maneuvering his puck in and out of obstacles cleanly. 

You make your way closer to him, and he's so focused that he doesn't notice you yet. Now that your up close, you can see the sweat as it glistens on his skin and drips down his neck. Man's was putting in work on that ice, and you immediately felt bad for trashing it before. This was Haechan's craft, and you could see just how much he cared for it. 

“I thought you were the goalie?” 

He skits to a stop and turns to your voice, confused. Once he realizes it's you, he squints his eyes suspiciously at you.

“Here to snitch to coach?”

“Humor me, and you’ll find out,” you smile.

He skates over to you and collides heavily with the barrier dividing you, making you jump. “I am the goalie; you know I'm the goalie.” He answers

“I thought you could only stay in the net, though?” You ask curiously 

"Technically, I can play outside of my net; I just can't cross the center line. "It would be stupid of me to play to far from the goal. These exercises are just for practice.”

"Where is everyone else?”

“Teams pissed I'm benched, so they won't play the ice with me until I'm officially back in the game,” he shrugs, but they can help him torment you throughout the week? Some team he's got.

"I don't understand men," you say, rolling your eyes.

“Its called tough love babe, you get it,” he teases. You fake punch him through the plexiglass, and he flinches jokingly. 

“You wish,” you mumble.

A comfortable silence settles as you just stare at each other with hesitant smiles gracing your lips, replacing the usual scowls.

“Why not help me out?”He asks

“With what?”

“Practice with me.”

“You want me?  on ice? I don't think so,” you laugh.

"Oh come on, Ice Princess afraid of a little cold? What happened to all that bite you had before? Afraid you'll lose some of the few brain cells you have?”

Oh he was so on.

He takes you into the storage room and helps you fit some spare skates onto your feet. He shoves a hockey stick into your arms and helps you back onto the ice. 

Oh it was so over

You felt ridiculous. You had no idea how to hold the hockey stick and you could barely stand on the ice. You figured Haechan must be getting a kick out of watching you struggle, but once you look up from watching your every step, you find nothing but worry in his eyes.

“Be careful not to fall; it's easy to bruise on the ice,” he warns gently as he skates circles around you, literally and hypothetically.

“I don't need your help; I can figure it out on my own,” you grumble And take a brave step forward. 

You knew the basics of ice skating, but that was just it; you knew it. Actually, putting it into action was a lot harder than you thought. You knew you were supposed to bend your knees, make a V shape with your feet, and lean forward slightly. That was the easy part, but actually moving? Not computing. 

You hear a soft chuckle behind you, and you throw a glare over your shoulder. 

“Let me help you,” Haechan laughs lightheartedly “can't help me practice if you can't skate dummy.” 

"This was your idea" You remind him

He glides over to you and hovers his hand on the middle of your back. Not fully touching you, but close enough, you know that he's there if you fall. You feel a bit more confident with him there, and you take your first step. You stumble immediately, but he's right there to catch you. He helps you right yourself and moves to skate in front of you. He grabs your hands and holds them steadily.

“The issue is that your taking steps; don't try to walk on the ice; push off and glide,” he explains. 

You follow his lead as he skates backwards. You stumble a few more times but your starting to find the rhythm to it. You can't help but smile excitedly at him. When you try to jump with joy, you immediately slip and fall. You close your eyes, bracing yourself for the impact of the cold, wet ice, but instead collide with a firm chest. You had fallen forward into Haechan's arms, and when you lifted your head up, you found yourself a breath away from his face. You can literally see your breath mingling in the cold air of the rink.

Time is frozen, and neither of you moves as you watch each other, waiting for the other to make a move. You lick your lips, and you can feel his grasp on your waist tighten at the sight.  

“Can I ki-”

SLAM. The sound of a door echoes through the building as footsteps follow. You and Haechan part immediately, and you turned towards the source of the noise.

It was Mr. Choi, the exact reason you were here in the first place. It looked like he was leaving for the day. You really needed to talk to him and give him the things Mrs. Lee wanted you to.

“Oh! Mr. Choi, excuse me!” You call out to him and shuffle as best you can across the ice. Before you can even stumble, you feel an arm encircle your waist as they guide you across the ice, smoothly pulling you along. 

 You finally make it off the ice and waddle towards him. awkwardly hanging on to the  gaurd rail with the skates still on your feet. 

“Mr.choi Just. A moment.”

He finally turns to look at you and raises an eyebrow

“Mrs. Lee sent me; she wanted to go over Haechan’s progress with the extra credit but she's been too busy to come here herself,” you explain, a little out of breath.

The coach takes one look at your exhausted form and then at haechan before letting out a sigh.

“Follow me to my office,” he says, walking back the way he came.

You make your way to the nearest bench and down. You rid yourself of the deadly contraption on your feet. You grab your things and send Haechan a final smile. His eyes are glued to you as he circles the ice watching as you following Mr. Choi. You enter through the door you saw him walk through; it seems like the office is located in the locker room. You find the coach seated in his office, near the back of the locker room. As much as Haechan bothered you, he deserved his praise. You relay your report and don’t forget to give him the things Mrs. Lee had for him. 

“I'm happy to hear he's not causing any trouble for you”

“Of course not”

"please save me TT," you cry from inside.

"Well, keep me updated if anything changes; I know he can be a handful sometimes”

You smile at the comment and nod “I'll see you around, Mr.Choi.”

“Just call me Coach.” He corrects.

“Right,” you smile.

You stroll out and look over at the ice to find Haechan running his exercises again. He looks at you expectantly as he skates the ice skillfully.

“You'll find out soon,” you say, answering his silent question.

You heard the door open and close again, and Coach Choi appeared to have followed closely behind. Haechan gets called over, and you take this as your cue to leave the two alone. Hopefully he remembers your kindness and you can finally call a truce on this petty war.

Over next few days, things have been going great between you two. You were actually starting to enjoy Haechan's company. After giving good feedback to his coach, he decided you weren’t too bad. The time spent in the library together is filled with small laughs and light jokes at first, but as you two finally break from your apprehensive shell, you find yourselves completely opening up and letting your guard down.

Outside of the library, he's been teaching you how to skate, and you have been seeing more and more progress. You two even started buddy reading. This is how it should have been from the beginning. You didn't realize how much you wanted to get close to him until you finally did. 

You were currently on the rink with Haechan as you skated alongside him. You would follow behind him as he practiced and you would read aloud for him. Recently, he hadn't had time to read. His coach was pushing him to practice more as the season approached, so you read for him to ensure he didn't fall behind

You finish off a chapter and close the book. “how are we feeling about this chapter” 

“Too short; I feel like not much happened in this chapter,” he comments.

“I could read another if you like?” 

“Nah, I'm almost done,” he says as he comes to a stop to catch his breath. “lets wrap up”

You nod and make your way off the ice.

You busy yourself with untying your skates and haechan sits down next to you to untie his.

“when I'm back on the ice, are you gonna come watch me play?” he asks

Your wanted to answer right away but you find your mind wandering back to your conversation with your roommate all those weeks ago. Haechan was the hotshot player, who knew what kind of rumors would spread if you came to the game to support him

“I'm not really a hockey fan,” you say. It was true; you don't really follow sports.

“you wouldn't be my fan?” he teases

“especially not yours,” you joke back

“Seriously, it would mean a lot to me”

“when did you start caring about being seen with me?”

“since you stopped being annoying,”

Point taken.

“I'll think about it,” you say before you stand. Your make your way out and call over your shoulder, “don't fall behind on your chapters; I won't be able to read to you once they take you off the bench”

Mrs. Lee had finally concluded his extra credit, and once it was reported to his professor, his grade was updated, and he was good to play again. Of course, Mrs. Lee extended him the opportunity to continue working at the library, and when Haechan says he'll make time to stop by and see you, you believe him.

That was a mistake

It was stupid of you to think Haechan actually cared about spending time with you in the library. Once he was cleared to play, he put all his time back on the ice. 

If you crossed paths on campus, he would smile and wave, but there was nothing much outside of that. So what was all this for? Were you just there to help him kill time until he was back with his beloved team? You admit you started off really rocky, so you wouldn't put it past him, but lately you felt as though you really grew as friends. 

You knew how much the sport meant to him, but you couldn’t stop the hurt that followed. You were only human after all, and humans made stupid decisions.

It was finally the night of the first game of the season, and you sat in the stands as you watched the game unfold. Maybe Haechan was right to be cocky; he was really good at defending. You couldn't take your eyes off of him. The away team was down 15 points, and the game was coming to an end. If the team was good enough, they might have been able to turn the tables in the last quarter, but that doesn't happen as Haechan blocks almost every shot they attempt. He was quick and used his entire body to block his opponents shots. You had never seen him so focused before.

The buzzer sounds, and the crowd cheers. You come down the stands to give your congratulations. Haechan spots you as you approach and gives you a smile, opening his arms for a hug.

You weren't here for him.

You walk right past him and hug his teammate, Jeno. You had been getting closer with Jeno over the last few weeks. You had checked out a book for him one day and even helped him study it for his history class. You two have been talking ever since. Haechan's smile fell immediately. You wish you could have captured the look on his face. 

“Are you coming over to celebrate?” Jeno asks

“Of course I'll wait for you, ok?” You say and hug him tighter.

Haechan remains motionless, his face full of confusion and anger.

Jeno leaves you and heads back into the locker room.

Most of the team had started to head back already, and someone clapped a hand over Haechan's shoulder, dragging him back to the locker room and rambling in his ear about the amazing plays from that night's game. Haechan can't seem to pay attention, focusing solely on you and the sly smile that graces your lips.

You were honestly impressed by how quickly Haechan changed clothes. He was only in the locker room for about 5 minutes, and when he storms over to you, you can tell he skipped the shower.

“Jeno? Really? You're better than that,” he says, tongue in cheek. 

“Don't start; he's actually really sweet. What do you even care? You won the game, right? That's all you care about.” 

“I see what this is,” he says with a smile “your upset that I didn't make time for you and our little book dates, is that it?” 

“They were not dates,” you correct him 

“Could have fooled me. I see the way you watch me instead of the pages,” he counters

“Oh my god, you're so full of yourself." You say but don't deny his claims. "I thought we were past this.”

“You’re one to talk; your literally using Jeno to get back at me!”

“How can I get back at you if you don't like me? Why do you care so much?” You argue. “Admit it, you have a thing for me” 

He takes a step closer, invading on your personal space, and you can tell by the expression in his eye that he was about to say something devious, but Jeno interrupts you, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

"Nu-uh, she's mine tonight; back off,” Jeno jokes, whisking you away from the tension you and Haechan created. As you walk away with Jeno, you have a chance to look over your shoulder and catch Haechan's eyes. He gives you a look, but you're unsure what it reads as? You’re too far away to see, but it looks like hurt?

Jeno drives you back to his place; apparently,  the party was at the grand house that most of the team stays in. Most of the team stays together while others live on their own, but all the celebratory parties happen at the big house. You wonder if Haechan stayed here too? You shake the thought from your head. You would not think about him tonight; you had a point to prove.

Once you make it to the house, you notice most of the team is still setting up and getting ready. A few people were early, and they were mostly chatting out back on the deck. You follow Jeno up to his room and he changes into something more comfortable than the practice clothes he had thrown on after the game. You give your opinions on a few of the shirts he tries on and you find that its really easy to talk to him. He was super laid back and you could see yourself becoming really good friends with him.

“You and Haechan, huh?” He asks as he picks over a few chains to match his outfit.

“No, its not like that,” you say, rolling your eyes “Try that gold one on,” You point to the heavy chain sitting on his dresser. 

“The whole team knows something is up. You even practice with him sometimes.” Jeno says as he clips the chain behind his neck and adjusts it in a mirror. 

Your lying on his bed as you absent-mindedly scroll through your phone. "Hmm, not that one. I think silver would match better actually.” You avoid being put on the spot.

“Make up your mind,” Jeno groans, taking the chain off “I know your only here with me to make him jealous, so if you want my help, you could at least be honest.”

You look over his outfit again and give him a flirty smile “Who says I'm not? You look good. Maybe I want to try you?” 

He smirks and crawls over to you on the bed. He pins you down under him and kisses your neck. “You’re not fooling anyone, but who says we can't have a little fun” He teases and caresses your sides. You think he's going to take it farther, but he parts from you and goes back to his closet to find his shoes.

“Just kidding doll, he's my teammate. Even though you can’t see it, I do. He likes you,” he concludes.

You watch him put on his shoes and sigh. Haechan was ruining your chances of getting good dick now too? “You still gonna help me get back at him, right?” you ask.

“Oh definitely, he deserves a little tormenting,” Jeno says as he finishes putting together his outfit “He ate my leftover Kimchi Jjigae, so he's got it coming.”

You laugh and haul yourself from his sheets, joining his side as you both walk down to the party.

When you both enter the stairway, the music hits you, and you can practically feel the bass of the music shake your bones. Any more small talk was clearly out of the question, and you were grateful. You were not in the mood for any of Jeno's twenty-one questions regarding your feelings for Haechan. You doubted you would hear him even if he spoke right into your ear. He leads you to the main floor, and the house is packed. While he waves and greets a few of his friends, you rake your eyes across the crowd to see if you can find Haechan. There has been no sight of him so far. 

You make your way to the kitchen and find the drinks. You still hated the way hard  liquor burns as it goes down and settles for a mixed drink. You stick close to Jeno, hoping Haechan would find you hanging off his teammates shoulders, but you still haven't seen him.

It wasn't until about an hour into the party that you saw him. Honestly, after your second drink, you had already forgotten you were even looking for him as you began to have genuine fun with Jeno. He held you close as you danced on the floor. Although you were both past tipsy, you were not quite drunk. Jeno's chest was against your back as you rocked back and forth to the beat, his head nestled in your neck. 

Haechan had just come down the stairs; you figured he must have been hiding away in his room until this point. He locks eyes with you as your figure becomes entwined with Jeno's. Jeno peppers a few kisses against your skin, and you can practically see Haechan's breath catch in his throat as his face heats up in anger.

You smile in victory and you think he's seconds away from dragging you off the floor but he surprises you. He pushes through the crowd, but he doesn't come toward you at all. He angrily makes his way through the front door, slamming it behind him. 

You pull away from Jeno’s embrace, suddenly ashamed. "I don't think this is working” 

Jeno can't hear anything your saying, so he just screams, “HUH? WHAT?” loudly in your face. 

“I”M LEAVING,” you try to communicate through gestures.

“SHOULD I GO WITH YOU?” he asks, finally able to understand you

“NO IM FINE,” you make an x motion with your arms to tell him no and you point behind you, “GOTTA GO, BYE”  

You leave him in the crowd, and you figure he'll be okay because, when you turn around to spare him one last look, some other girl was quick to take your spot. 

You rush through the bodies of people and make it outside. There were a few people leaning against cars or huddled in groups chatting with friends, but they paid you no mind as you walked down the sidewalk, following a familiar figure that was a few meters ahead of you. 

He had his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he stormed ahead. No matter how much you pleaded for him to slow down, he kept walking. You had no idea where he was going until you spotted an old, run-down building. He was going to the library.

Once he got to the doors, he used his spare key to unlock it and rush inside. You follow after, finally being able to catch up

“Hey! Haechan, wait” You grab his arm, and he finally turns towards you.

“What! Isn't this what you wanted? To piss me off?” He asks in exasperation, his chest heaving in anger.

“Can we just be honest then! Why are you upset?” You challenge. 

“BECAUSE I LIKE YOU!” He yells in frustration, “I've liked you since the day you gave me your headband. I could have done anything else for extra credit You know why I chose the library? Because I knew you would be here!”

“You completely ditched me after!”

“I was busy!”

“Your insufferable is what you are!’

“You think you know it all, don't you!” 

"Well, I do!” You yell, “I know if you liked me, you should have acted like it!”

“Oh yea!?”

“Yea!”

With his lips pressed hungrily against yours, you found it impossible to think at all. Not with the way he pulled you closer to taste more of you. You could hardly keep up. One minute you’re at each other's throats, and the next his tongue is down yours.

He pushes you back against a bookshelf, knocking a few copies from their spot, and you pay them no mind as they clatter to the floor. You would have a lot to clean up afterwards.

“So annoying,” he mutters against your lips as he deepens the kiss.

You still can't keep up. All you can think about is the way his hands feel as they travel across the skin of your stomach. They were cool from the midnight air and you shivered under his touch. He backs away to let you catch his breath.

“Tell me you want it,” he says, a hair's breadth away from your neck. He gave you your moment to back out, to go back to whatever you guys were before, but you didn't take it.

“I need you, please,” you mutter as you bring your hands back up to his hair and pull him down for another kiss. 

You couldn't take another interruption; you needed all of him, and if you had to wait another second, you'd explode. He tried to pull away again for air, but you chased his lips, biting them in retaliation, and he whined.

“Not so tough now, are you” you joke, a bit out of breath.

He narrows his eyes and rests his hand against your neck “You need to be quiet; we’re in a library.” He tightens the hold on your neck and any rebuttal you had dies in your throat “another word and I'll leave you to finish by yourself and I don't think Edgar Allen Poe could turn you on more than I can” 

You raise an eyebrow and open your mouth to rasp out a response, but he has you facing the bookshelf, manhandling you before you can speak.

“Do not test me,” he says.

He has you pinned up against the shelves and undresses you. You want to complain about the amount of clothing he was wearing, but remind yourself of his earlier threat.

The library is dark and quiet; no one would be able to see your bodies dance in the dark. Your senses are heightened and they are all zeroed in on haechan. The warmth of his hands as they explore your body and tease you and the soft sounds that escape his mouth as he grinds his hips against your ass. 

For a second, you don't feel him pressing up against you anymore, and your protests die on your tongue as you feel him lick into your heat from behind. He’s grabbing at your cheeks, massaging them as he spreads them to make room for his face. He's so messy, and you can't help but blush at the amount of noise he's making. Your legs begin to shake as he sucks heavily on your clit. He pulls back and spits on your cunt, adding to the slickness, before inserting his fingers. As many days as you had worked with him, you didn't think it would ever end with him pushing you up against the bookcases and eating you out from the back. Just a few moments ago, he couldn't stand you; now he was on his knees, like he could worship your pussy for a lifetime. You would not be able to look at this library the same way again.

You could feel yourself getting closer, but you'd cry if you had to come around his fingers pathetically rather than wrap around his thick cock. You thread your fingers through his hair and grab hold. You almost don’t have the heart to pull him away, but you eventually find the strength. You pull him up from his knees and into another kiss, and you can instantly taste yourself coated on his tongue. 

“Fuck me already.” you say against his lips.

He groans and gets to work on taking off his pants. He doesn't part from you for even a second, and the death grip he has on your hips tells you he can barely keep it together. He slips inside and you both whimper at the feeling. He fucks you as intimately as someone can press up against a bookshelf in the middle of a library. All you can do is just grip the shelf. You could hardly keep yourself up after coming so close to the edge. 

He finally breaks the kiss, and you gasp for air. The lightheaded feeling makes you tighten around him. He's peppering kisses around your neck and down your back. 

“So good, babe;  you feel so good,” he mumbles. “We could have been doing this from the start but you just wanted to be a brat” He nips at your skin and lands a slap against your bare ass. 

“But all you needed was some dick. Now your so good for me, right baby,” he slows his thrusts down teasingly and presses another kiss to your temple.

His strokes are so deep and calculated you almost start crying. He doesn't like your lack of response so he snakes a hand in front of you and grabs onto your neck. “Answer me baby,” he threatens as he tightens his grip on your throat. His hips pick up at a brutal speed, and he's fucking you so hard that the bookshelf is shaking, causing more books to topple off.

“Yes! All yours! I'm your good girl” you really do cry this time. 

Haechan groans at the sight of the fresh tears that fall down your cheeks. He kisses them away, and he pulls your hips back to meet his thrust, driving deeper into your greedy hole. Your head is up in the clouds, and all you can make out is him whining “so good” and “just like that” into the crook of your neck. 

You cum hard and gush out all over his length. He thrusts into you a few more times before he finally releases deep inside. Your legs are shaking and you have no idea how your going to make it home. 

He pulls out of you and watches as his cum drips out of you. He did not feel like scrubbing his cum from the library floor, so he did the next best thing. He found his way down to his knees again and cleaned you up. You weakly push at his head, and you slump against the bookshelf. 

Haechan has to pull himself away before things get out of hand again. He helps you put your clothes back on and sits you on a nearby bench as he cleans up the mess you two made. He picks up the books and puts them back on their respective shelf.

“Mrs. Lee would kill us if she found out”

“Do not bring up my grandma right now” Haechan shudders at the thought in disgust.

Silence falls over you two as he continues to work. 

“Did you mean what you said earlier” you say, suddenly unable to meet his gaze, like he wasn't fucking the life out of you two minutes ago.

“Yes, I’m sorry for not being upfront with you. It was just so hard; it seemed like we  were always fighting,” he says as he shelves a copy of Huckleberry Finn.

“I'm sorry for the way I acted before,” you sigh “Can we start over...again...for real this time” you laugh.

Haechan finishes rearranging the books and sits next to you on the bench.

“Of course,” and he kisses you. 

This kiss was different from earlier; this one meant something and wasn't lust-filled like the other. This kiss was filled with secret promises and new adventures. When he pulled away and looked him in the eye, you knew things were going to be different.

[mv1simp]

my constant thought about max is him and virgin reader where r is saving herself for marriage and for her husband but max convinces her that doing anal means she’ll stay a virgin <33

Anon YOU EVEN MADE ME BLUSHH 🤭🤭🤭 do u know how hard that is. got me kickin and gigglin an shit, here u go u filthy animal keep the requests coming 🫶

Low Life ♥️

Max Verstappen x Horner! Reader

I been on the molly and ‘em xans with your daughter, if she catch me cheatin’ I won’t ever tell her sorry

Mad Max is back in full force with the poor Redbull strategy this season - and his boss, Christian Horner, doesn’t seem to be doing anything about it. Guess Max will just have to find some other way to get his revenge and relieve his stress…starting with his boss’s precious, spoiled daughter.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, innocent virgin!reader, who’s also a spoiled brat lol, dark! Max, blackmail, coercion, filming, VERY dubcon, anal, size kink, dom/sub, bimbofication, religious themes, EVERYTIME I WRITE A DARK MAX FIC IT KEEPS GETTING MORE NASTY GODDAMN, 5.2k WC

To say Max was pent up with rage would be an understatement. After dedicating himself tirelessly and dominating the track since his debut, the Redbull team had disappointed him this season with their pisspoor car and even poorer strategy. And to top it off, his boss was now making comments to the media about how he needed to spend less time on the sim rig the night before a race, making Max scoff. As if Horner knew more about winning a race than a 3 time world champion, Max thought angrily, yanking off his helmet as he stormed straight to his boss's office to give him a piece of his mind after another disappointing P3 finish.

Horner was having none of it, though, telling Max some bullshit about how the team needed to have a united front blah blah blah. Max has already tuned him out, cause what the fuck does he mean the team - he was the one bringing home the results every weekend, and anyone who tried to say otherwise just needed to look at the track record of Max completely dominating his teammates in equal machinery. God, he hadn’t gotten this mad in a long time, so he excuses himself rudely as he can tell he’s about to wreck something if he has to hear another one of Horner’s excuses. He wrenches open the office door just to have you stumble straight into his firm chest as you try to enter it.

You, Christian’s Horner’s daughter from his first wedding, freshly graduated from some private all girls college. He’d met you 3 months ago while you were trotting about like the spoiled little brat you undoubtedly were. No job, just using your degree as decor while you used your daddy’s fame to find yourself a rich man to spread your legs for, he had speculated, knowing just your type.

And it irritated him to no end that you looked the picture of innocence, an angelic figure in your white minidress and kitten heels and wide doe eyes, with a matching purity ring and all - even though your pretty tits and fat ass were openly ogled by many a male staff member. Max himself had to readjust his pants a few times when he’d seen you bend over.

He’d assumed you’d try to sink your gold digging claws into him soon enough, wanting some of his multimillionaire status for yourself, but you’d surprised him by skittishly avoiding him, almost looking a little scared, which he found amusing. He supposed he did dwarf your 5 foot frame though, and you had all the aura of a sweet little lamb compared to the Dutch lion. You’d surprised him again last month, when you’d introduced your dad to your pick of a first boyfriend - Tim, a docile looking, short guy who was a lowly new hire in the F4 reserve category. Too far down in the rankings to do any real benefit to your status. Conveniently, though, Tim’s father happened to own a software development app that was currently in the process of a $3 million acquisition deal. Chump change to someone like Max, but like he said, he knew your type, didn’t he?

But he’d been most surprised when he’d overheard moaning one night when he’d stayed late in the garage - and had pervily gone to investigate down the abandoned hallway and into one of the empty rooms - only to get an instant hard on at the sight of you on your knees, dress pulled down to your waist and those delicious tits out on display. So entranced by the angelic vision, Max hadn’t even noticed your loser boyfriend - till a scowl appeared on your pretty face as Tim furiously jerked his tiny dick off in front of you. He was panting and whining, sweat running down his face as he pathetically begged please, please can i touch your boobs-

You were no scared little lamb now as you snapped at him viciously. No! I told you, only looking and no touching! I promised daddy I would stay pure for my husband- Eww! Oh my god, what is that?

You’d been cut off as your boyfriend came, his small, clear load weakly spurting past his fist so that only a couple of drops landed on your caramel skin. Max had thought you’d been lying about the purity bullshit, just wanting an excuse to avoid Tim’s touch - but his eyes narrowed at your look of disgust at your boyfriend’s dick, and the genuinely puzzled expression on your face as you tried to figure out what the clear fluid that landed on you was - making the impressive semi he still rocked twitch, despite your pathetic boyfriend ruining his show. Interesting, you were still a virgin, huh?

Sure, you’d piqued his interest then, but he ignored you now as you stumble back from his hard chest, wide brown doe eyes blinking up at him. He’s still furious with Horner and starts to move past you but your aggravating father perks up, asking if you could show Max where his new drivers' room was in the refurbished wing, so that he could cool down and destress in peace after today’s race. Of course, daddy, you responded sweetly, making Max’s cock stir. He eyed you doubtfully as you lead the way. You had to know what you were doing, a grown woman using that word, right? But then again, he’d seen you call Horner by that title in a team wide press conference, making GP choke on his water next to him - so maybe not.

His anger hadn’t dissipated one bit as you approached his room, in a much more secluded area of the new wing for him to “cool down” as Horner had passively aggressively suggested. Still clearly nervous in his presence, you accidentally dropped the key you’d fished out. As you bent over to collect them, your miniskirt rose up, revealing your juicy ass peeking past your white cotton panties. Oh, he’d found the perfect way to get back at his boss, Max thought devilishly.

As you unlocked the door, he stepped in behind you, giving you no choice but to stumble inside - and then he’d casually stopped in front of the door to block your exit. You nervously twirled your keycard in your fingers, shuffling side to side.

Why don’t you sit down, he offered, we should get to know each other, yeah? You still looked like you wanted to bolt any second, but at Max’s authoritative tone you gingerly sat down on the plush couch.

He started with some generic bullshit about how he’d seen you around, you were his boss’s daughter after all, and as Horner’s best driver he should be on good terms with you too, no?

You relaxed, now looking up to meet his eyes and smiling brightly, pleased that the great Max Verstappen had come to seek your favour. You start saying that it was nice to meet him too, you’d heard lots about him, he was such an incredible driver-

You hadn’t noticed Max discreetly locking the door behind him. Stepping forward, he responded neutrally to your excited questions as he casually strips off his top layer, leaving him shirtless.

You abruptly stop talking, going pink in the face, and he asks what’s wrong, I’m just getting changed, are you a virgin or something? His mocking tone makes it clear that he still didn’t quite believe you were one. When you don’t reply, he gently lifts your face up with his large hand. And as your eyes shyly rise up to meet his, desperately avoiding looking at his broad, toned abs, there’s no faking the genuine innocence in them. I am, you stutter out. A virgin, I mean. I made a promise to daddy to wait till marriage.

You twirl your promise ring around anxiously as you say it. Max didn’t know what kind of sick brainwashing Horner had been subjecting his daughter too, but he fully intended to use it to his advantage. Really? He says slyly. Does your daddy know you let your little boyfriend jerk off on your tits?

You gasp, then glare as you demanded to know how he knew that, had he been watching, that was soo creepy and gross -

There’s the bratty angel he knew had been hiding. He cuts you off, confirming that yes, he’d been watching - but you’d been the dirty girl who seduced her innocent boyfriend in the garage for just anyone to see, hadn’t you?

You’d look outraged at his statements, but he reminded you of the power he had when he nonchalantly mentioned that he hadn’t planned on telling your father, but now that he knew about the promise you had made - well, it was his duty to let Horner know what kind of naughty things you’d been doing behind his back, right?

That had wiped the bratty glare right off your face, instead making you wide eyed and tremble with fear at the thought of your daddy finding out. You begged Max to keep your secret. Please don’t tell him, he would die, you'd do anything to stop him knowing!

Jackpot. Smirking darkly, Max pretended to consider your option before saying that he supposed he could keep it to himself if you helped him destress and relax like your father had sent you here to do, okay?

You nodded eagerly, looking up at him with those innocent doe eyes as he stepped right in front of you, watching you predatorily. His thick fingers brush along your pink lips, and his eyes darken as you instinctively take them into your mouth, sucking sweetly. Oh, you were going to be such a sweet little angel for him, he just knew it.

Within seconds he had you dropping your dress down to your waist, exposing those lush, pretty tits of yours. You blushed when he stared hungrily and ordered you to play with them, and at first you obliged and gently squeezed them, but then stopped to brattily ask just how this was supposed to help destress him, was he just being pervy again?

Great point, he said, and sat down next to you to easily lift you into his lap, taking over and roughly palming your tits. N-no touching! You had squealed, desperately trying to escape his strong arms. Rolling his eyes, he forced you back against him, explaining that it was okay, you knew that it didn’t count if it was to help him destress, right? And besides, nothing would affect your promise to your daddy except a man’s cock actually entering your precious virgin hole-

Okay! You had said frantically to put a stop to his explicit words, face flushed. Okay, if you promise it doesn’t count, I’ll still be a virgin, right?

God, it was so cute how naive you were. You hadn’t even realised that if what Max was saying was true then there was nothing illicit with what you and Tim had done - and Max had nothing to hold over you. Right, Angel, Max promised, enjoying the dazed look you gave him at the nickname as he squeezed your tits, bending down to take a pretty nipple into his mouth. It doesn’t count.

And that was how Max had his boss’s innocent little daughter wrapped around his fingers, ready to do whatever he asked of her, as long as he kept your secret. It was such a rush, having his way with you right under your father’s nose, being able to punish you for his crimes and ruining you more and more each time Horner pissed him off - and oh, did he piss Max off constantly.

So the next race, he’d had you fully strip for him, and yes, even those cute panties, Angel, when you’d whined, embarrassed from his intense gaze. You’d bit your lip and slid them off, obediently spreading your legs and gently playing with yourself like he’d asked, using unfamiliar movements. Soon enough you’d become accustomed to Max’s hungry stares at your innocent parts and began thrusting your tiny fingers inside your virgin cunny, because it had started to feel sooo good and soo tingly down there, and you’d never felt like that before.

You’d become distracted, closing your eyes from the sensation and when you opened them you shrieked, because Max was now standing right above you, greedily looking down at your petite form as he stroked his own private parts - called a cock, he’d made you repeat. He’d also warned you never to scream again in his room, or he’d gag you next time and tell your dad about Tim. You pouted, nodding obediently, but whining that you got scared Maxie, why was it so big, so angry, was it going to hurt you?

Of course not, Angel he’d reassured at the next race again, this time making you sit next to him, naked except for your kitten heels and a lacy blue thong he’d had delivered to your house - your father as clueless as ever when he handed the package over to you. It won’t hurt you, he promised, but it's very hard from stress and needs you to help drain it, okay?

He’d guided you to his large cock, smirking evilly as you struggled to grip him even with two hands. He moved one large hand over both of yours, showing you how to jerk him off the way he liked. You’d picked it up very quickly, innocently asking him why Tim's cock was so much tinier that his. Cause, Angel, I'm just a better man than he is, he had said with a chuckle. Oh, you had said, then - I hope my husband is a good man then, and has a big cock like you.

Oh, Jesus. Max was definitely going to hell after this. Feeling his peak approaching, he ordered you onto your knees, making you hold your tits up - and then proceeded to cover them with his thick, creamy release, so much of it that it dripped down onto your stomach - and much more than the time you had seen Tim’s cock explode. You’d almost screamed again but bit your tongue at the last minute, remembering Max’s threat last time. But it didn’t stop you from glaring up at him, brattily asking what this gross stuff was, eww, you didn’t want it on you-

That’s fine, Max had said cooly. That’s fine, because next time he'd make you drink it all instead. Your eyes went wide at that, tears forming and you adamantly denied Max, saying you’d never do something like that, it sounded pervy and dirty.

But your reluctance meant nothing to Max, as he smirked at you from your fathers side the next day, whispering something in his ear that had your daddy looking over at you and an icy chill running down your back. You were petrified as you got a text from your father to come see him in his office now, walking in on the verge of tears only to have him smile delightedly at you because Max mentioned you’d been very supportive of his races lately, it’s been a big reason why he’s so much more of a team player these days, so proud of you for helping the team, sweetie!

You’d accepted his praise, blushing from the attention, and later had dutifully wandered back to Max’s room to greet him after the race. He smirked at finding you there, already naked except for a pink lacey thong and heels, on your knees for him, shyly thanking him for keeping your secret and saying such nice things to your daddy. Of course, Angel, he murmured, unzipping himself. You know just how to say thank you then, hmm? And you obediently nodded, jerking him off like he’d taught you, then licking and sucking on his cock when he asked, and then taking all of his length inside your eager throat at his command, gagging the whole way as he tutted disapprovingly at you, taking over and controlling the pace with his large hands. It had really hurt your tiny mouth, and you couldn’t speak properly afterwards, but seeing Maxie swear and tell you how good you were doing, how he never wanted to let you go, made that tingly feeling come back in between your legs again. Instead of ignoring it like you normally did, this time you couldn't resist fingering yourself, thong pushed the side as you shoved your fingers inside your wet cunny.

Maxie had gone breathless seeing that, and then he tensed before you felt his warm, sticky thick cum fill your mouth. You swallowed every drop, opening your mouth afterwords for him to inspect. Good girl, he said, patting your head. My sweet angel, you drained my stress so well. Oh, so that’s what it was, you say innocently. I’m glad I made you feel better, Maxie.

After that, there were no races for a whole month as the paddock went into summer break. You had thought you’d be glad for the relief from Maxie and his mean demands, but you found yourself texting him often, missing his loving kisses and touches after you helped relieve his stress, missing the tingly feeling you got when he looked predatorily at you spread open for him.

You’d been shocked when you opened your eyes as a shadow had blocked out the sun while you were sunbathing at your family’s St Tropez holiday home, only to find Max grinning down at you, saying your dad had invited him to come for the week. Had you been doing your homework? You nodded diligently, looking at the banana you’d been practising swallowing whole without gagging to copy the dirty video Max had texted you of a petite woman eagerly sucking a very big cock - he must be a good man, you’d thought, just like your Maxie.

Secretly, you were so glad he was here, shooting him looks over the dinner table as he sung praises about what a good friend you’d been to him, helping him get back to P1, making your daddy proudly pat your head. And after dinner when everyone had gone to bed, he joined you in the hot tub to unwind. You’d excitedly begun to tell him about what you had been upto on the break when you felt his thick fingers creeping up the inside of your thighs. You’d frozen instantly, because Maxie had never touched you there himself, but before you could say anything your father stepped out onto the veranda, asking you something about your plans for the next day.

Answer him, Max mouthed, smirking as you had no choice but to let him keep gliding up your legs and undoing your tiny bikini. And when your daddy had gone back inside, oblivious that the flush on your face wasn’t from the heat of the pool, you’d tried to shove Max’s hand away, brattily saying you didn’t want his hand near your private parts, that was just for your husband-

Doesn’t count, Angel, Max had cooed, easily overpowering you and sliding a finger in, much thicker and longer than yours and making you squeal as he started pumping it in and out of you. And he hadn’t stopped despite your half hearted protests, because you’d started to feel really good, really tingly, and Maxie, I feel funny, I think I’m going to pee-

After you had your first orgasm, he carried your tired figure back into the house, setting you down and licking your cum off his fingers. And then, through your half asleep state, you felt his tongue swirling around your nipples, leaving hickeys and then trailing down, and down before his warm breath gently blew over your puffy cunny. And then you felt his wide tongue licking your folds, making you gasp awake and squeal cause why was he kissing you down there, that’s so pervy-

But he’d easily bullied you back into quiet muffled moans again, your skimpy bikini bottoms shoved inside your mouth as he warned you that your father was going to wake up right next door and come investigate if you didn’t shut up. So you reluctantly let him continue his filthy kissing, spitting and licking on your most innocent parts until you felt you had to pee again. He grinned wickedly as you squirted a second time, completely ruining the sheets, before redressing your passed out figure in a comfy hoodie. You felt the ghost of a sweet kiss on your forehead before he walked away.

You avoided him the next few days, glaring when he would approach you, angry he’d kissed you somewhere only your husband should. He’d promised you were still a virgin, sure, but still! It was just too much, wasn’t it?

But you’d been unable to resist his advances any longer when he’d cornered you in the family study one day when everyone else had gone out to the markets. He’d sweetly apologised, presenting you with a new Dior bag he’d had speed delivered that morning, and you happily snatched it up, gasping with delight as you look inside to find a Cartier bracelet. You’ll forgive me, right, Angel? Max had said, slowly wrapping his arms around you from behind and rubbing his practically blue balls against your plush ass as you distractedly admire your new gifts. I just wanted to make you feel good, hmm?

You nodded breathlessly, agreeing that you supposed it had felt really good, you liked that tingly feeling in between your legs. Yeah? Max had grinned, kissing you and slipping his tongue inside and saying that he knew a way to make you feel even better, Angel, and you’d still be a virgin after it, he pinky promises, okay?

With the new Dior bag and diamond bracelet you’d become a lot more agreeable, and didn’t protest as he laid you back on your father’s study table, lifting your miniskirt over your hips and grinning wickedly when he found no panties - just your glistening pussy. Y-you always just rip them anyways, Maxie you pouted.

Oh, you secretly wanted this, didn’t you? Acting all bratty just cause you wanted to make him work for it, he was certain. Your sweet body was such a good plaything for him that he didn’t really mind, deciding not to punish you for avoiding him.

You curiously watch as he unzips himself, taking his thick cock out, then you squeal adamantly in protest when he brings it close to your innocent hole. Shh, Angel, it’s just on the outside, he’d promised, I won’t put it in, it’ll feel so good, trust me.

And it had felt sooo good, making you bite your lip and toss your head back as he dragged his warm length along your folds, slapping your clit a few times with his cockhead, making you spread your soft legs invitingly as you felt the addictive tingly feeling come back again.

He’d been unable to resist the temptation, sliding just the tip into your virgin cunny- but you’d immediately screamed in protest, twisting away and he had generously released you from his hold, tongue in cheek as you sashayed away with a backwards glare, Dior bag in hand. He’d had to leave the next day, and you didn’t see him the rest of the break.

After the break, you had seemed different to Max. You carried the brattiness openly in your eyes, confident now in your ability to seduce him as he has brought such expensive apology gifts just for a little taste of your virginity.

You had infuriatingly said no when he tried to rub himself against your cunny at the next race, and at the one after that, so here he was, stuck fingering you and sliding his tongue in and out of your folds for the 3rd time this week while his cock ached to be buried inside you - when the wicked idea came to him.

He’d made sure to have all the preparations ready for the next race, knowing you would be a brat and try to weasel your way out of it. Like he’d predicted, you make your way to his plush sofa, spreading your legs to show off your naked pussy and demanding he come kiss it how you liked.

Oh, his Angel had become quite the spoilt little bitch, hasn’t she? He’d have to make sure you learned your lesson about who was in charge around here. You smirk as he drags his tongue up and down your puffy folds, thinking you had the millionaire driver all wrapped around your fingers. His thick third and ring fingers join his tongue, making you moan and close your eyes as he pumps them into your pussy. And then, his thumb drops down, lower, to circle your other winking hole before sliding inside.

You’d jumped in shock, naively asking why he was touching your dirty hole, that’s so embarrassing, you don’t want him to touch that place!

Max cooes that he couldn’t care less, besides, he can clean it out for you, yeah? If he just slides his cock in, just a little bit, he can make sure it’s all clean for you.

Your eyes go impossibly wide at the thought of his big cock anywhere near your ass. You furiously close your legs, brattily telling him that you’d had enough, wasn’t he just being a pervert now, and you’d already broken up with Tim ages ago and since Max seemed to be very relaxed now given his P1s has resumed you didn’t think you needed to help him out anymore!

Time to pull out the big guns. Sitting back on the sofa now, Max palms his growing erection as he calls out to you, making you pause from where your hand rested on the doorknob.

You know, Angel, I’ve had a lot of creepy fans sneak onto the garage lately. Some even got into my room. I guess they just really wanted to see me shirtless, huh?

You turn around to look at him, confused, until your eyes slowly widen in horror as he points to the camera tucked in the corner. There’s no trace of sympathy on his handsome face as he starts lazily jerking himself off, telling you that it had been your fathers idea to set it up, for his safety, and he’d even kindly offered to go through all the footage later - he took any threats against his prized driver very seriously.

You panicked, already teary eyed at the thought of your father seeing you spreading your legs sluttily and demanding Max pleasure you. You immediately dropped to your knees, begging Max to keep the tape himself-

Now why would I do that, Angel? Max cooes, getting harder at the sight of you kneeling in front of him and crying for his help. After all, you’re the one who’s forcing him to kiss her pussy on that video, hmm?

He knows he has you right where he wants you as you beg him, offering up your precious pussy to slide against again if he wanted, just don’t go inside, okay?

That’s not the hole he wants, Angel, he told you darkly. No - he wanted your other hole, the dirty embarrassing one, and he wants to sink his entire cock inside it.

He watches you stutter and gasp, before you take a deep breath and naively ask My husband won’t be able to tell, right Maxie? I’ll still be a virgin?

Max smirks. Of course, Angel. You know he’d never break your precious promise. And with that, you’re ready to become his obedient pet again, blankly turning around and sticking your ass up in the air like he asks, spreading your cheeks for him to look at.

And oh, Max takes his sweet time looking, enjoying the twisted satisfaction of having completely broken you down like this. He generously douses you in lube, making you squeal at the chill, before he’s furiously pumping his thumb inside your impossibly tight back hole. You tremble as he lines his cock up, ordered you to relax or it’ll hurt, Angel. Slowly sinking inside, he moans as he finally finds his way into your heat, feeling like he’s reached heaven. Tears stream down your face as you wail once he begins meanly thrusting, wickedly taking your anal virginity all for himself and giving you his fingers to suckle on and keep quiet.

He doesn’t stop until he’s finished inside you, panting heavily and pushing his matted hair out of his eyes, pressing kisses down your spine to let you know you did so well for him.

He pulls out with a wet squelch, enjoying the sight of his cum dripping out of your poor, abused little hole. Sitting back comfortably on the sofa, legs spread, he gives you a cocky smirk as you turn around, still seated on the ground in front of him.

Now clean it up, he demands meanly. He can’t have your hole make his cock dirty now, can he? And you obediently responded, crawling forward with glazed eyes, licking him clean from balls to tip like he’s trained you to do.

After that night, Max had held you completely in the palm of his hand. You’d be the perfect angel for him, doing whatever he wanted wherever he wanted - except for entering your innocent pussy, of course. He’d let you keep it yours for now, finding the fantasy hot. He’d buy you a diamond ring one of these days, he mused, so that you’d beg him to finally claim your virginity.

But for now, he had a couple other tricks to try out. And if you’d try to refuse, he’ll pull up the video he has on his phone of your eyes rolling back as Max ate you out on your father’s work desk from summer break.

He’d taken you back to his hotel room to teach you those tricks, making you wail and scream his name without restriction, headboard banging against the wall. It was hilarious when Horner had come upto him at breakfast the next morning, patting his back and saying it sounded like he’d been celebrating his win very well last night, congratulations, he deserves it and sounded like the girl couldn’t get enough!

Max had to hold back his laughter, as your clueless father had no idea he was carrying an extra croissant up for the very same girl who couldn’t get enough - his precious little daughter, who still lay sleeping in his hotel bed, exhausted from his dirty activities all night.

You’d ended up missing your flight back, making some weak excuse to your daddy and had followed Max into his private jet, obediently spreading yourself open for him as he pulled you behind the privacy screen. The flight attendants had blushed as they heard your eager moans and the lewd sounds of Max greedily fucking your ass again.

And when you landed, greeting your waiting family, Max had to discreetly wipe the line of cum that trickled down your skirt. You didn’t have to worry, though, he’d already thoughtfully ordered another delivery of sexy underwear straight to your home 🖤

—————————————————————————

A/N: I actually gave myself post nut clarity writing this (post writing smut clarity?? Post smut conscience??) time to go outside and reconnect with nature. As always,,,lmk what u think 🤔

[octuscle]

Fatal shortcut

You know those days. The traffic is murder. You can't go another inch. Your destination is within reach, but it will take you three green lights and at least 20 minutes to cover the last 100 meters. Bloody hell! Honk the horn? It's no use… But now carefully pull onto the green lane, then cut across the high school parking lot and you're there. Why do you have your baby, the Mercedes G-Class, after all? I put on the turn signal, the car takes the sidewalk like nothing, carefully into the parking lot, look left and right and…… BANG! Damn it, the Mustang has clearly taken my right of way. This is guaranteed to take longer than 20 minutes… The two morons in the car look like they only have their heads to wear football helmets and pour beer through their mouths. The typical stereotypical football college jock bros. The day just keeps getting better…

"Yo, Chuck! Bro, did you see what that punk did there?" "Sure, Brad! He definitely took your right of way." I try to protest. But I'm way too caught off guard when the guy, who is obviously Chuck, stands up in front of me. God knows I'm not small. I'm a well-trained, muscular six foot two. But Chuck is easily ten centimetres and at least 20 kilograms taller than me… He grabs my balls. Damn it, I want to punch him, but Brad's already got me from behind. And Brad is barely smaller than Chuck. "There you go, you little faggot!" Chuck hisses at me. "Are you lying in wait for your wankers in the parking lot again? But this time is the last time!" He spits in my face and his grip on my balls tightens. Brad turns my head in his direction and spits again. Then the two of them get into their car, put it in reverse. And disappear.

I stand there a bit like an idiot. I'm far from being small or a faggot. And the last thing Chuck and Brad were to me were wank templates. I mean, I have nothing against gays… But thanks no, not for me… I'll take a look at the damage to the car. It's no big deal, the Mustang looked worse. I get back in the car, drive the last few meters into the underground car park, throw my keys to Stephen at reception and ask him to take the car to the garage. When I get off work later, I'd like to have it done. He puts his hand to his temple and says "Sir, aye, sir". Hehehe, I don't mind hierarchies being recognized.

"You little faggot"… I can't get that phrase out of my head. Shit, I'm really unfocused today. Maybe I just need a distraction. I go to the gym during my lunch break. Somehow I feel the need to look like anything but a faggot. I train bare-chested. Dressed only in compression shorts. Not really appreciated here. But I don't care today…

Shit, I'm not in top form here either… What I normally lift without any problems is all too heavy for me today. At least it's the cross trainer… Even though I'm not really the cardio type. When I get in the shower, my cock gets hard. Shit, that's embarrassing. But I also have to say that there's really only premium meat running around here today. And I'm one of them. Definitely one of them. Even the clean-shaven guy in front sees it that way. Clear body language. It doesn't take long before I'm leaning against the shower wall. And for the first time in my life I get fucked… And how! I can hear the angels singing. It feels so good as the stallion cums in my ass. To say goodbye, he gives me a kiss and a pat on the ass. And he says loudly to one of his buddies. "What a waste for such a submissive pig to have such a magnificent cock!"

The fuck was great, but apart from that I'm really not myself today. I feel like I've been missing the last year. For the life of me, I can't remember a lot of things that happened. It's like I wasn't there. I'm glad when Stephen calls me at around 5 p.m. to tell me that my car is back. I thank him, pack up my things and go down to reception. Stephen grins at me almost insolently and says that this service is an exception and that he now has something good on me. Completely confused, I say, "I'm fine, dude" and take my car keys. But there is no black G-Class in my parking lot. There's a baby blue Mercedes SLK, in good shape, freshly polished. But it must be 15 years old. I press the key. The doors open. What the fuck?

I just want to get home, this day is a disaster. As I park the embarrassing car and walk past the concierge, Michael calls after me, "Hey, Johnny boy, can you give Mrs. Smith from 2316 a lift?" I turn red. I walk back to the concierge desk. "So what, my name is Jonathan, but it's actually Mr. Hays to you. And why would I stop on the 23rd floor when I live on the 38th. Besides, I don't know Mrs. Smith." Michael grins at me with his one-million-dollar smile. "Rough day, John, uh, Mr. Hays? You might as well ask the old lady if her drain is still acting up. And before you try to break into the wrong apartment, I understand you live in 2304." He hands me a package. I drive up to the 23rd floor. I give her the package. She asks if I can plug in the new coffee machine straight away. "Of course, mom," I say. I ask if her drain is working again. She says it would be nice if I could have another look. I ask if she has any rubber gloves. She nods. I pull the dirt out of the blocked drain. She slips me a dollar. I go to 2304, open the door. And drop onto the bed. It's right next to the door. 2304 used to be the room for the lady's maid from apartment 2312. On the one hand, I feel very much at home. But on the other hand, I should be somewhere else. Somewhere with a view of Central Park. With more space. I pull out my cell phone and start working my way through Grindr. Maybe I just need someone to take me really hard again today

That was a night of really wild dreams. Really wild dreams. But obviously everything is fine now. I feel fit. My morning wood has never been better. I stroke my chest. Didn't it used to be hairy? I'm fantasizing again. What it would be like to be a real guy. Successful, at least 1.82 m. Well, I'm not going to grow any more. But maybe that's because of some Italian roots or something. That's where I got my hairy armpits and good beard growth. Shit, I'm still hard as nails. So routine like every morning: wank, jog, shower and then off to the office. I should be there at 07:00 so that the mail is distributed and the conference tables are all set before the Masters of the Universe arrive at the office. It's 07:05 when I walk in the door. Stephen grins and just says, "Subway?" "Don't ask, bro!" I reply, rolling my eyes. I didn't really need a bachelor's degree for my job. Jogging in the morning to stay in shape is more important. At the end of the day, I usually have 15K steps and 40 floors on my fitness tracker. And that's not usually the end of it. By the time I get home, Michael usually has a number of assistance activities for me. But hey, the address on the Upper Eastside sounds impressive, which I would never normally have been able to afford as a young professional. I'll even put up with the apartment on the first floor with a view of the backyard and the job as a temporary janitor.

Of course it's embarrassing to still live with my parents. But if I wanted to afford my own place, I'd probably have to move 200 miles away from Down Town. And I want to stay here. That's important to me. Also for financial reasons. The subway tickets alone would be too expensive if I had to travel further. I mean, the little bit of scholarship… And I don't earn much in the kitchen of the cafeteria. Stephen and Michael are good friends. If I didn't have them, I wouldn't make it. But they have good contacts. Stephen in the office, Michael at home. They always know someone who needs a massage with a happy ending. Or a greedy college boy face for a blowjob. The men are usually well-groomed. Too well-groomed, actually. That's why I always look forward to my part-time job as a trainer at the high school gym. If I'm lucky, I get to meet Brad and Chuck. I mean, they're not gay or anything. We never make eye contact. But I still get to blow them sometimes. Even though, of course, it's pathetic when you're a sophomore in college sucking high school seniors. But fuck, you won't find cheesier dicks with a more pronounced scent of musk and sweat anywhere!

Yo, have I even dropped my name yet? It's Janusz, 19 years young and repping as an exchange student up in the Big Apple. Just call me Jonny, keep it chill. Hailing straight outta a tiny village near Krakow, Poland, in case that detail tickles your pickle. Still wrapping my head around this English gig… But let me tell ya, my French game is on point, or so the bros claim. Thrilled to be out of the parental crib and living it up in this wild city. Dang, the possibilities here are endless! Senior year vibes, you know what I'm saying? And now that I joined the wrestling squad, it's like BOOM! More close body action in a week than I got in a year with the 'rents around! Truth bomb: I make most of my cash tagging along with my wingmen Brad and Chuck, the school heartthrobs. I'm like their trusty sidekick. It's lit! Hoping to snag an athletic scholarship next year, fingers crossed. Sure, these two golden boys ain't wrestlers (legends in the bedroom, though), but football studs. It'd be epic if we could keep the bromance alive in college. Purely platonic, of course. Or not… 🤷‍♂️

[yoonbroom]

SEVENTEEN FIC RECS

a list of seventeen fics I really enjoyed! pls go and show these amazing authors some love <3 also if there wasn't a summary on the fic I just included a little paragraph or the request! now onto the recs ↓

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

HELLO TUTORIAL - @97-liners

oneshot, fluff, college au, frat au

it’s your final year of college, and you’ve been elected president of your sorority. this is all great and fine, but as the semester goes on, you find yourself having repeated run-ins with the president of the fraternity next door in a series of unfortunate coincidences (that might not actually be coincidences, as you come to discover). or: in which you’re trying to deal with your crush on seungcheol in a normal way, but the meddling kids are making it harder than it needs to be.

FRACTURED PARENTING, PT.2 - @berriesandjunnie

oneshot angst, fluff, idol au, separated parents au, enemies to lovers

parenting can be an emotional rollercoaster when you’re far from divorced and the flames are far from dying.

YOON JEONGHAN

UNTITLED - @userjuyo

drabble, fluff, est relationship

"i just know than jeonghan would tease his s/o a lot, but whenever they went “hannie :(“ he would literally MELT like he’d just be like “okay sweetheart i’m sorry 🥺” and the members would be like ????? BC HE WON’T LET THEM LIVE but it’s his baby so &lt;;3"

UNTITLED - @wqnwoos

drabble, fluff, est relationship

“what if crabs think that fish can fly?” your question is whispered into the darkness of your bedroom — you gazing at the ceiling thoughtfully, while jeonghan curls up beside you.

OF RAINY NIGHTS AND ROSES - @chenfleur

oneshot, angst, fluff, idol au, est relationship

In the heat of the moment, Jeonghan grows careless with his words. Now, he has to bear the weight of saying things he didn't mean.

DAISIES - @viastro

oneshot, angst, fluff, strangers to lovers

the best type of revenge is to hurt the person that means the most to them. aka, in which jeonghan is in charge of making you fall in love with him, just to break your heart. 

JOSHUA HONG

BEST FRIENDS BROTHER - @chocosvt

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, best friends brother

joshua happens to be your best friend’s older brother. he’s pretty, and he’s got a lot of cool details about him that you pay a concerning amount of attention to, but he’s just a friend (if you could even call it that). still, what does he think of you, anyway? that is—if he thinks of you.

IT TAKES TWO - @/berriesandjunnie

oneshot, fluff, idol au, parent au, est relationship

a family is a little scary when your partner has over millions of fans.

UNTITLED - @/wqnwoos

drabble, fluff, est relationship

"it feels like the sky has only just welcomed the sun when joshua tries to get up to leave."

WEN JUNHUI

HEAVEN COULDN'T WAIT FOR YOU - @/berriesandjunnie

oneshot, angst, idol au

i just couldn’t stand to see you leaving but heaven couldn’t wait for you.

HAPPY ENDING - @junkissed

one shot, angst, fluff, marriage, est relationship

a pointless argument escalates until both of you need some space, but it couldn't come at a worse time.

KWON SOONYOUNG

LET ME TRY AGAIN - @papermatisse

oneshot, angst, fluff, exes to lovers, parent au

Soonyoung had never wanted to live a restrained capitalistic life, forced to work a tiresome 9 to 5, paying taxes until the day he dies. Though in exchange to pursue the other option, that being devotion to a career, he had to pay an unfathomably large price—he had to abandon everything and everyone he's ever loved. can he fit himself back into his former life? one that's changed more than he can possibly imagine? could the ones he loved forgive him for his wrongdoings? could he get the second chance he wants so desperately?

(UN)TRADITIONAL - @neonun-au

oneshot, fluff, wedding au, est relationship

"The digital clock on the hotel night stand flashes the next minute as it passes. A re-run of Law & Order: SVU drones on in the background as you sit at the edge of the bed, staring sleeplessly at your wedding dress hanging on the back of the closet door. "

VOWELS AND VERACITY - @hansolmates

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, teacher au, single parent

after a blind date that makes you feel like a giddy teenager all over again, you’re forced to grow up and take a chance when you realize that special someone is your daughter’s kindergarten teacher.

BE SWEET - @heartkyeom

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, royalty, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers

“Why are you here?” Your tone is resolute, not allowing for even an inch of resistance. “That’s what we need to talk about. We’re getting married,” He lifts the corner of his mouth. You let out a laugh that is nowhere near polite, in fact, you’re nearly cackling at the prospect of this idea. It’s simply so outlandish, so fantastical that every time you look at his face it seems more unfathomable.

JEON WONWOO

FOR THE BOOKS - @trblsvt

oneshot, fluff, teacher au, est relationship

wonwoo's students seemed intent on matching him up with a fellow teacher. he didn't really want to stop them, it was too funny for him to break up their fun. plus, he didn't mind the certain someone he was being "set up" with.

HOW TO FALL - @because-of-a-friend

oneshot, fluff, angst, idol au

"hi!! <3 i love ur acc and i was wondering if you'd be able to write an imagine where you're besties with joshua and he invites you to meet the rest of seventeen for the first time and you instantly fall for wonwoo? maybe some angst but overall fluff? thank you!! no rush!! i love your work!!!"

UNTITLED - @/97-liners

oneshot, fluff, royalty au, friends to lovers, childhood friends

"a royalty au where you’re the heir to the throne and wonwoo is your shy (and lowkey bumbling) royal advisor…. he’s smart and always has his head stuck in a book but he’s also painfully awkward and clueless to how deeply in love with him you are. until your parents decide it’s time for you to get married. and suddenly you’re inundated by suitor after suitor, and wonwoo is quizzing them on their credentials and doubting their suitability for you, this one makes brash political decisions, this one spends too freely, this one has no tact for diplomacy. until one day, you turn to him and ask, “you’ve hated every single one of them. who, then, do you think i should marry?” and wonwoo blushes red and presses his lips together."

SCANDAL, PT.2, PT.3, PT.4- @fantasyescapes17

series, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, regency au

this is part of an extensive series that includes other members! you can check it out ⤳ here

The Viscount's sister with an enormous dowry, beauty and unmistakable talent- you began the London season as the most desired woman in any room. But Jeon Wonwoo (a man who would rather hide in the library than dance at a ball) is beyond your comprehension. Curiosity might have killed the cat, but it embroiled you into a scandal with a man you could never love.

MEET CUTE OF THE CENTURY - @lovelyhan

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, idol au, strangers to lovers

the last thing you expected when you volunteered at your city’s local animal shelter is to meet the hottest cat person in the world. now if only he’d just adopt one of them so you’d stop ogling him every time he drops by.

MARRIAGE - @yikesmary

drabble, fluff, parent au, est relationship

where wonwoo’s nightmare is coming true.

BIRTHDAY SURPRISE - @/yikesmary

oneshot, fluff, parent au, est relationship

where you and nari try to make breakfast and a cake before wonwoo wakes up… if only your daughter knew what the word “surprise” meant.

LEE JIHOON

GUITAR STRING - @leejungchans

oneshot, fluff, angst, royalty au

"“Take me away.” Jihoon’s elegant fingers, previously plucking at his guitar strings, freeze at your words. The soothing, lullaby-like chords he had been playing echo into the inky darkness, carried away by the chilly night breeze."

WE'LL BE OK - @atinykidult

drabble, angst, fluff, idol au, est relationship

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you” for hurt!Jihoon

LIVE - @wondernus

oneshot, fluff, idol au, est relationship

having just finished composing a song a few hours ago, jihoon starts a live on his phone to sing to those who are feeling a little lonely at night. little does he know, your sleeping figure could be seen in the corner of his little livestream, causing his fans to go crazy.

MWHA - @cheolism

oneshot, fluff, est relationship

three times you said "mwah" at the end of a kiss and one time jihoon said it back

IM DATING WOOZI - @jihoonotes

oneshot, fluff, smau, est relationship, idol au

y/n is in a public relationship w/ woozi of SVTZ and decides to make a twitter acc to support jihoon, but SVTZ fans seem to think they're delusional.

JIHOON'S PUPPY - @rubyreduji

oneshot, angst, fluff, college au

jihoon can’t seem to shake the puppy dog who keeps following him around or the teasing he gets for it

HEARTSTRINGS - @wavelikewhat

oneshot, fluff, strangers to lovers, idol au

You help Jihoon meet an unexpected deadline for a song and he wonders why he can’t stop thinking about you. Luckily his members nudge him toward the answer.

LEE SEOKMIN

WARM ME UP ! - @ponkwan

drabble, fluff, est relationship

the one where you’re on your third date with seokmin.

KIM MNGYU

HOT OR COLD? - @jjuniehao

oneshot, fluff, est relationship

when looking for something on his phone, you find an email you didn’t expect…

BOYFRIEND PHOTOS - @babyleostuff

oneshot, fluff, est relationship, idol au

a sunny date spent with your precious boyfriend

XU MINGHAO

THE LETTER - @toruro

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, brothers best friend, childhood friends to lovers, idol au

in which you’re jun's little sister and have been pining for a man so close yet so out of reach for ages. now, years later, when you see minghao all grown up, famous, and still making your heart flutter, you're not so sure what to do about your not-so-little crush.

BOO SEUNGKWAN

A BEAUTIFUL LIFE - @sungbeam

oneshot, fluff, childhood friends, est relationship

Boo Seungkwan asked you to marry him beneath the shade of an orange tree.

CHWE VERNON

ACCIDENTALLY IN LOVE - @suhnshinehaos

series, fluff, angst, childhood friends to lovers, arranged marriage, smau

the one where you get into an arranged marriage with your childhood best friend vernon, but neither of you seem to mind that much

UNTITLED - @/wqnwoos

drabble, fluff, est relationship, idol au

“vernon, we need to talk.”

OR, WOULD YOU RATHER IT BE ME? - @thepixelelf

oneshot, fluff, childhood friends to lovers, college au, soulmate au

A detested soulmark, a friendship over a decade in the making, and an unexpected proposal from one friend to another… what could possibly go wrong?

LEE CHAN

SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGE - @/berriesandjunnie

oneshot, fluff, est relationship, parent au, idol au

no matter what stage in life you’re at, or after all these years, you can count on his hyungs to still treat him the same.

08:23 AM - @wheeboo

drabble, fluff, est relationship, idol au

in which chan is late to dance practice.

want recs for other groups? check out my navigation → here!

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER SIX

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @xxloveralways14 @patscorner @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @makethemhoesmad @authentic-girl03

warnings infidelity, some sexual content

kalena speakss 🪽! this is easily my favorite chapter so far (for reasons that will become obvious towards the end) don’t expect another back to back update bc it’s not happening 😭 maybe thursday or friday at the earliest, i still have priorities!

June 2025 — Crypto.com Arena, Los Angeles, California 

“Paige, your shot wasn’t falling tonight like we are used to seeing from you. What was different tonight for you than either nights?”

It’s this that I’m not quite yet used to. The post lost pressers. It was different in college, where the team had way more wins for every one loss, but right now we’re at .500 and each time a loss follows a win and they ask me the same variation of the same question I get irritated.

But I’m media trained, which means I just answer the question no matter how dumb I feel it is. The real answer is that I played like shit tonight, forcing shots and getting into my head. Instead, I’m forced to say:

“We’re playing a team that has the reigning defensive player of the year and was just in the finals. It was gonna be a dog fight, for us to get settled against a defense like that, and they simply out performed us.” I look down at the stat sheet in front of me, I had 5 turnovers to my 4 assists, and I fucking hate turning the ball over. 

“Kayla McBride is a dog, she guarded me well tonight, forced me into some bad shots and got a few turnovers from me. But I gotta take all that and learn from it, it’s still too early in the season to stress out over things that are fixable.”

I'm the only one sitting at the podium tonight, Rickea and Dearica doing theirs together and Zia who had just gone before me. I knew what the gist of the questions would be, turnovers, defense, and the most gruesome: injuries.

“We saw you roll your ankle pretty bad tonight. Even though you finished the game, can you tell us a bit about the seriousness of it?” It’s a different reporter now, one that I recognize from our win the other night.

I shake my head. My ankle was fine up until he just mentioned it. Now, it stung bad. I had some extra tape around it, it was only sore, while I was sitting but walking and running full speed on the court made that shit hurt like no other. 

“It’s not serious.” I reply honestly. “We got two days off before the next game at home so I’m not worried. I’m gonna treat it like any other tweak and just follow what the trainers got for me, and hopefully we have a better night against Minnesota on Friday.”

It seems like that is a sufficient answer for the rest of the reporters in the room when I hear that wonderful “no more questions.” I stand up gingerly from my seat. They don’t miss my slight limp, but after a few steps the pain shakes off and it just feels uncomfortable. 

When I get back to the locker room it’s damn near empty except for Cameron and Rae. I give them both curt nods before heading over to my locker.

They don’t speak to me, which I’m silently grateful for because I might snap at them unintentionally. Losing is one thing, playing like dog shit is another, but my ankle really put the nail in the coffin.

I attempt to clean up my locker a bit, making life a little bit easier for the ladies who’re gonna come in and clean up when we leave. I throw my jersey and shorts in the growing pile of towels and warm ups and all other gear before reaching for my phone in the bag. 

just saw the injury on tv, pray it’s not too bad ❤️‍🩹

That’s the second most recent text in my phone, from about an hour ago from Maraye. It just briefly brings a smile to my face that I can’t even fight. It’s crazy to me that even when I’m at my grumpiest she finds a way to make me forget about it all.

I scroll through the rest of my notifications before tapping on her contact. I see that she texted me multiple times tonight throughout different parts of the game.

don’t fuck up my parlay tonight. jk good luck fav! 7:09pm

OKAY BLOCKKK GET UP THEN 7:20pm

omg the cross over??? don’t do her like that p 😮‍💨  8:03pm

I laugh fights through my lips, she told me in Atlanta she would start live texting me during games, I didn’t think she was serious. Nevertheless, I find it adorable. Maraye, throughout the busyness that is her schedule, turned on my game and watched the whole thing, keeping me posted on all her thoughts throughout the night.

I’m so beyond saving.

My thumb scrolls back down to the bottom of the thread. I can’t deny the way my heartbeat quickens in my chest at the choice of heart emoji. It’s not quite a red heart, but it’s enough to let me know she cares. I can’t believe that I’m sitting here like I’m in high school again, psycho analyzing her texts and gushing over them until my face is red.

“You headin’ out?” I look up and Cam is getting ready to leave. She’s going to be fully cleared to play this week, probably not playing with us until right before All-star. I’m excited for her, and I can tell that she is too because it’s practically beaming off of her.

I nod. “Yeah, inna minute. I’ll catch you in the morning.” Cameron takes that answer and walks out alongside Rae. I grab my back shortly after them, getting up and leaving the locker room. The arena is quiet, so is the parking garage as I make my way out there. The chirp of my car alerts me to it. I drop my bag in the trunk before sitting down in my seat.

The cushion practically eats me alive, I haven’t been this physically exhausted in months. 

Then I’m reminded that Maraye and I’d thread is still open on my phone. When I glance at the time I realize it’s not that late, I know that if I go home, I’ll just fall into the rabbit hole of watching film all night.

Instead I reach for the phone heavy in my sweatpants pocket. My thumbs begin typing away before sending Maraye a text back.

Nah it’s not all that bad 

You busy? Or can I slide?

I make sure my phone is connected to the speakers. When He’s Not There by Kehlani plays through the car while I get settled. Following that, I place my phone on its spot on the center console. It isn’t until Maraye’s name flashes on my carplay screen that I finally pull out of the parking garage.

yes please, come see meee

—

Paige sits comfortably to my left on my couch. Her leg propped on my coffee table with a bag of ice resting on her swollen ankle. 

It’s her first time at my apartment, but even then she navigates the place like she’s been here countless of times. It feels so similar to our friendship, just comfortable. 

Her arm is draped over my shoulder as I nestle into her side. When she first came over, I sat on the other side of the couch, so far away from her you would think we were fighting. And then she started talking, pulling me closer with her words until I sat right next to her. My body is leaning into her warmth.

An NBA finals game plays on the TV. Knicks versus the Thunder, it’s in the last few minutes of overtime, a high intensity game that Paige swore she couldn’t miss a second of.

“He’s so fine.” I chirp jokingly, Shai Gilgeous Alexander is on the screen, about to shoot game tying free throws.

Paige pulls her arm off of me, looking down at me incredulously before reaching for my remote. She lowers the volume on the TV, reducing Mike Breen’s commentating to a whisper.

“Who, Shai?”

“Yeah. You don’t think so?” I ask, looking up at her with a grin.

“I’m like a raging homosexual, but if you like it I love it?”

I laugh at that, pushing her hair away from my view. It cascades down her shoulders in soft bright strands that tickle my face. 

“You can never just laugh at my jokes.”

“Your jokes aren’t funny.” Paige says. The face she makes reacts to her own statement like it’s obvious, when we both know I could make her laugh until she cried if I wanted to. “And Shai isn’t your type.”

I move from my spot next to her, jumping up and turning my attention to her face, while hers are stuck to the game. The way she is seated briefly makes me forget my train of thought. Her legs are spread comfortably and she leans back on the couch with her arms against the back of the couch. She looks like a fuckboy, and in any other scenario I would make fun of her for it, but the TV glow shines on her face just right and her cologne in my nose nearly makes me go blind.

I cross my arms over my chest. “What’s my type then, Paige?”

A commercial cuts on and Paige finally draws her eyes away from the screen. “What, Julian’s lightskin ass wasn’t the giveaway?” She laughs at her own joke, it’s stupid, but I love that laugh. So uniquely her. “Or y’want me to say you like six foot blonde girls.”

I roll my eyes, and when my vision clears up again, Paige is grinning at me.

“C’mon it was funny!”

“I don’t like women, idiot.”

“You like me.”

“I do not. I don’t even know why I let you hang out around me.” My body turns and my back hits the couch with a soft thud. Just to annoy her I sit further away from her body.

“Yeah okay, ma. You keep tellin’ yourself that.” Paige’s voice is low, a deep and raspy tone that I have never heard from her before. With Julian that had always been a given— he’s a man with a deep voice, that’s obvious. But when I hear it from Paige, I don’t know. It’s different.

My body just barely reacts to the pet name, but it’s there. The glob of saliva that pushes down my dry throat. And my legs just slightly press together. Paige reaches for the pocket of my striped shorts, tugging me back to my original spot in the curve of her body. 

“You’ve really never done anything with a girl before?”

“Paige—”

“No, not to be annoying. I’m just wondering.” She shrugs. Her hand reaches over to flick the bag of ice off her ankle and brings her leg down to my carpet. She looks down at me slowly, a lick of her lips and scan of my face lets me know she’s listening, waiting for my response.

I return her gaze. “Yes, I’ve really never done anything with a girl before.”

“Why? We’re much better. Better than whatever Julian is doing for you, I can tell you that much.” Paige’s voice is smug, teasing almost. I don’t know if she’s trying to rile me up between my legs or in my heart so I defend Julian. Either way it’s working, my heartbeat quickening in my chest.

“You seem sure about that.”

She nods. “I am. I think you forget how often you complain to me about that guy.” She says with a laugh.

The game in front of us is dying down, a three point lead for the Knicks with 40 seconds left in overtime, Oklahoma just now calling a timeout. I know she’s into the game, way more than me, but still she looks at me with an intensity that makes it feel like we’re the only two things in the world.

“Doesn’t mean a girl could do it better.”

Her eyes darted from my eyes to my lips, I’m expecting them to move. To look back at my eyes or even at the TV but she doesn’t. Just me.

“Y’believe that?” Paige asks me.

“Uh huh.” 

I’m going to lose. Whatever is going on with Paige and I, what has been going on for the last few weeks. The banter, the tension, the constant touching, it’s all a fight. Her and I are going back and forth like a fucking tennis match and she’s about to win. She’s about to make me lose whatever is left of my composure and grab the collar of her Hopkins High School t-shirt and kiss her until there’s no more breath in my lungs.

“Yeah? Ion know, can’t knock it till you try it.” She says, leaning into me for all of 5 milliseconds before sitting back in her seat and looking at the screen. The volume raises on my TV the cheers and commentary bouncing off the walls of my home.

Paige has left me frozen. Stuck there, in the exact position that she left me in. My eyes staring into the side of her perfect skin, burning holes there if I had the capability. I need her. My thighs are damn near glued together to keep me from dripping down my couch. 

I adjust my position some, sitting uncomfortably on my heels but with the way Paige is manspreading, it gives me just enough to be an inch taller than her. She looks at me, eyes trailing from my thighs past my covered stomach and chest, suddenly I’m hyper aware of how close my tits are from falling out of my Skims top.

“There some’ you wanna tell me, angel?” She asks. I hate the way that nickname makes me feel. She’s the only one that calls me that, the only one who makes me feel so small with just a single word. “Or you jus’ gonna keep lookin’ at me?”

The words just barely die in the air before I’m leaning into her, pressing my lips to hers. 

It starts off soft, so soft. Her body hesitates, like she knows better than to kiss me back but she does so anyway, tilting her head further and deepening the kiss. Paige hums against me, her arms still pressed against the back of the couch as if she has to avoid touching me. As if the second her hands touch my body then it’s game over. 

She bites my bottom lip, making me moan against her. I further into the kiss, cupping her cheek and then it really is game over. Paige reaches for my hips, lifting my body onto her lap and settling my thighs on the outside of hers.

Her tongue is entering my mouth, warm and tasting like candy. They’re clashing, messy and sticky and so damn hot. Now that I’ve gotten a taste of her I’m not sure I want to give it up. 

Paige roams my body with fervor. Trailing just a bit further to grab at my ass, kneading it in her large and veiny hands. I pull back from her breathlessly. Her hair is messy, lips so swollen and pink. It leaves me soaked as a response.

“This is doin’ so much damage. Y’know that?” She asks. Her hand travel back up my body to the back of my neck. I know it’s wrong, but still I let her pull me back into her. 

“Mmm, Ion wanna— stop.” I speak against her lips, letting her kiss me as she pleases. Grope me as she pleases. Talk to me as nasty as she wants to. I miss it, the feeling of being so vulgar with another person. Paige is on a different level and I want so much more. More of her, more than anyone has ever given me but for whatever reason I know that she can.

My phone starts ringing. I try to pull back to answer it but she pulls me right back, navigating my mouth with her tongue.

“Don’t.” She mumbles.

“I gotta.” I tell her pulling back with such force that I’m almost falling off the couch. I need to. Because if I don’t stop, I’m gonna let her see me in my most vulnerable state and even I know how wrong that would be. 

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, swiping to answer the call before I can even see who it is.

“Hello?” My voice is wheezy, and I’m huffing and puffing into the speaker.

“Hey, baby. You home?” 

It’s Julian. Of course it is. Of course God would let this man call me in the middle of making out with Paige just to make me feel guilty. Like the asshole I so obviously am right now.

“N— yeah. Yeah, but I’m busy. Sorry.” I stutter. “Paige is over right now.” I tell him honestly. But still, my breath hitches at my mention of her name. She rubs my thighs while I speak, looking at me like I’m a piece of meat. 

Her hand travels to her mouth, holding up one finger to her lips with a snide glare. I reach to slap her hand away, barely listening to what Julian says to me on the other line. 

Blah blah blah I miss you blah blah blah needa start hanging out with me blah blah less Paige. It’s gibberish. And I don't care.

“Yeah, okay. Goodnight Ju.” I tell him, bothered by his continued talking and wanting to occupy myself with something else. Namely, the pink lips in front of me that look so fucking pretty and the gorgeous face just inches away from mine.

I toss my phone on the couch after Julian responds and hangs up.

“You fuckin’ like me.”

“And don’t.” Just when I’m about to hop off of her lap, the TV blares loudly.

“Bang! Bang! Shai Gilgeous-Alexander takes us into double overtime!” Mike Breen’s cheers echo into my ears. Paige looks past me, obviously upset that she missed the shot.

“Damn. He’s good and fine?”

“Dont get fucked up, Raye.”

[holdinggrudges]

what's my flavor?

pairing: sam winchester x reader

content: EXPLICIT 18+, oral (fem!receiving), vampire!sam, blood drinking, bloodplay (surprisingly little though tbh), fem!reader (afab anatomy + the word girl used in reference like three times or so), feeding being explicitly referred to as similar to drugs/getting high, mentions of serious illness (made up for plot reasons but still)

word count: 10.5K

summary: Working your way through college, you find a secretary job with great pay and more than enough downtime on the clock to get your coursework done. The only downside is that it leaves you with no choice but to attend night classes. But it's not so bad, especially with Mysterious Hot Guy attending them as well. Oh, and there's been blood bags going missing, but you're pretty sure that's not going to be relevant to your life any time soon.

notes: this was supposed to be pwp. it was also supposed to be posted on halloween. clearly, neither of those things happened. but fuck it, we ball.

crossposted on ao3

You don’t understand how anyone could get through college without a job. You hear about people surviving off scholarships all the time, and you try your first year, you really do. But, God, something has to change. You can’t imagine working your way through school could be any more stressful than the budgeting, and the skipping meals, and the cards declining at the grocery store. 

So you get a job. A good one, too; a secretary job at an office ten minutes away from your apartment, and only twenty minutes away from campus. The job is easy, with plenty of downtime for you to work on your coursework, and the pay is good. Better than good, even. The only problem is the hours; 9-5 is great, generally, but not very convenient when setting up a college schedule. You’re relegated almost exclusively to night classes. Which is fine. Not ideal, but fine. 

You take four classes, two a night, and it leaves your Fridays wide open after work. It would truly be a perfect schedule if it didn’t mean you were on campus until 11 o’clock most nights. But the classes are relatively empty and none of your professors are total hardasses, so it’s not so bad. Actually, you start to really enjoy it. 

You make a little game out of studying the other students, trying to figure them out. The woman who sits in front of you in your statistics class is a stay-at-home mom, you think. The older man a few rows down in english is retired military. It’s interesting, and it gives you a reason to actually make it to class everyday. Well, that and Mysterious Hot Guy. 

Mysterious Hot Guy (or MHG, for short) is in two of your classes: your 6 o’clock political science class on Mondays and Wednesdays sitting a row down from you, and sitting beside you in your 8:30 biology class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He first caught your eye because, frankly, he looks more like he should be on a movie set than night classes at a dinky community college. He’s drop dead gorgeous, and that’s putting it lightly. Even so, that’s not what has you so intrigued. Something about him is off somehow, strange in such a way that it has you completely captivated. Alluring in a way you can’t quite put your finger on, even outside his appearance. 

MHG hardly ever speaks. You’re pretty sure he’s only said one word to you the entire four weeks of the semester so far, and he sits literally a foot away from you every other day. He’s also, apparently, a genius. He never takes notes, never writes a single thing down, he never asks questions and never answers them either, for that matter. Still, you happened to catch a glimpse of his grade on the test your biology professor handed back last week, and he got a perfect score. 

He also doesn’t have a car. Or, rather, he doesn’t have a car of his own. Every Tuesday and Thursday as you’re walking back to your own car at almost 11 PM, he’s climbing into the passenger seat of an absolutely gorgeous vintage Chevrolet Impala that makes you simultaneously green with envy and desperate for him to push you up against the side of it. Or push you down against the backseat. Or the front seat, which you find out is a bench seat after some minor googling. Car like that, you’re not exactly gonna be picky about where. 

Still, even after all your observing, you don’t learn a single useful piece of information about MHG until six weeks into the semester—two weeks out from midterms—when your biology professor announces that you will be choosing your partners for the midterm project. You barely even let the words leave his mouth before you’re turning to your right, pouncing with what you hope is a normal amount of enthusiasm, although you’re so damn intrigued by this guy that all you can do is pray you don’t come across as a total stalker. “Hey. Would you wanna partner up?” 

MHG turns to you, his eyes wide in a way that leaves you a lot less hopeful about how normal your greeting was. “Uh. Me?” he asks, and his voice is…warm in a way you weren’t expecting. He could do audiobooks, or a podcast, or something—he has a nice voice is what you’re getting at.

You laugh. You’re almost a little starstruck—it makes sense; you’ve definitely turned this guy into your own personal celebrity. “Who else?” you respond, holding out your hand for him to shake. “I’m ____.” 

He eyes you for a moment before he clasps your hand and gives it a shake. Jesus, this guy must have anemia or something because his hand is fucking freezing. “Sam. Uh, Winchester. Sam Winchester.” His touch lingers for a moment before he tugs his hand back. “And…yeah. Yeah, we can…partner up.” 

Sam Winchester. Finally, a name to put to the face. No more thinking of him as Mysterious Hot Guy for you; you and MHG are on a first name basis now. “Awesome,” you say softly, and you really, desperately hope your smile looks less manic than it feels. “So. Sam. Would you mind giving me your number or something so we can set up a time and place to meet up?” 

He hesitates, but he does scribble a number down on the corner of his empty notebook page. “I, uh. I can’t do…daytime,” he tells you as he slides it over. 

Okay. Weird way to phrase that, but you assume he’s like you, he works during the day or something. So you shrug and take the proffered paper. “Me neither. I have work.” You pinch it between your fingers with a grin. “We’ll make it work.” 

He smiles at you, a shy sort of thing that makes your chest ache to draw out more. “Yeah. Okay.” 

You plug the number in your phone almost as soon as you get home, but it takes you almost an hour to actually text him. You go through probably a hundred different drafts before you finally land on: ‘hey!! it’s ____. does friday work for you? my only day without classes lol’ 

Once you press send, you figure you’ll probably have at least five minutes to freak out and overthink. Sam doesn’t really seem the type to be glued to his phone. Which is why, you suppose, that you nearly have a heart attack when your phone buzzes with a response no more than 30 seconds later. ‘Friday works. 7 at the library?’ 

‘see you then :)’ You debate over the smiley face for a solid minute and a half before finally sending it and then violently throwing your phone across the couch and screaming into your throw pillow. 

When you do finally work up the courage to pick your phone up again, he’s sent two texts back. ‘See you then.’ And then another one, a small bubble containing two characters: ‘:)’ Embarrassingly, you giggle alone in your living room. Oh, this guy is going to be the death of you. 

You spend the rest of the night googling Sam Winchester and coming up with absolutely nothing. He seems to have absolutely no social media presence at all, not even an old MySpace or a private Facebook account. The only reference you can find to his name at all has it listed as one of two sons of some random serial killer from, like, the 1800s, which is obviously useless. 

You give up your fruitless search with a sigh, closing your laptop and shoving it aside. Your tv is playing on some local news station—doesn’t matter which one, they’ve all been reporting the same story for weeks. You click it off, 100% disinterested in hearing about the blood bags going missing from local clinics for the millionth time this month. 

You go to bed and dream of brown hair and eyes that you just can’t quite place the color of, but you can swear you see them flash red.

Friday finds you at the library almost a full hour early. You’d agonized over your outfit all day yesterday, and for another half an hour after work to boot. In the end, you’d decided to go casual. After all, it is just a study date—and actually, not a date at all! A study meet-up. A study hangout, at best. The fact that you did your make-up and your hair for it is entirely irrelevant. 

It’s 6:45 when a cough draws your attention up from your phone. Sam is standing in front of you with another one of those shy smiles, and two coffee cups in his hands. Coffee cups from your favorite cafe. He shoves one in your direction. “Uh. I’ve noticed that you have drinks from here pretty often. And- I hope you don’t mind, but I…I read one of the cups? So. This is for you.” 

Your eyes flick over him, your heartbeat practically pounding out of your chest. So he’s been watching you too. Or—Jesus, not watching, that makes it sound creepy. Observing is a better word for it. He noticed a pattern in your coffee cups. He read one to find out what it was you were drinking. “Thanks,” you tell him, taking the cup from his hand. Turning it to read the writing, you find he’d gotten it right. Maybe you should find it creepy, actually. As it is, you’re sort of having a hard time not swooning. You beam at him. “I’ll…have to return the favor.” 

For some reason, that makes Sam laugh as he sits down across from you. “Sure.” He opens his backpack and takes out his laptop. “So, this project.” 

Sam, as it turns out, is a genius. Or at least exceptionally smart. A project that would’ve taken you hours on your own is done in record time with him, which leaves the two of you there at 7:30 with a fully completed midterm project and half-empty coffee cups. You don’t want to leave, and it seems Sam doesn’t either, as he closes his laptop and asks, “Why are you taking night classes?” like he’s really, genuinely curious. 

So you tell him. You tell him about trying to get through college on your own, deciding you needed a full time job, how it’s probably the best job you’ve ever had. You ask him the same question, and he tells you about his brother, who is, apparently, the one who drives that fucking awesome car. He drops Sam off at classes, and pretty much anywhere else he needs to go.

The two of you chat for an hour and a half before Sam gets a text that says his brother is literally going to leave him there if he doesn’t shag ass and get in the car pronto. So Sam walks you out of the library. 

“You know,” you blurt out before you can lose your nerve, “I feel like our classes would be a lot easier if we put our heads together like this. You know, regularly. Like, every Friday, maybe.” 

He ducks his head, smiling that same shy smile he’d had when he gave you the coffee. “Sure. Every Friday. Sounds…helpful.” 

You don’t realize until you get home that he never actually told you why he takes night classes. It turns out to be a pattern for him, as the two of you meet up week after week. You simultaneously feel like you know everything and nothing about him, and every week you like him more and more for it. Well, for that and the coffee that he gets you every time. 

It takes a week before he moves seats in your political science class. The Monday after the second Friday you meet up with him, you almost sit in the wrong seat because you’re so used to him sitting two rows ahead of you. Of course, when you realize what’s happened, Sam’s staring at you with an amused grin on his face, like he’s trying really hard not to laugh at you. So, you decide, you are friends, at least. And as far as friends go, Sam’s a pretty good one.

You and Sam text, constantly. Despite seeming relatively unplugged, he responds to you instantly almost every time. You hate to get your hopes up, but by the time finals roll around, you’re starting to really like him. You’re starting to think he really likes you too. 

He finishes his biology final on the last Thursday of classes long before you, but when you leave the classroom, you see him leaning against the wall, waiting. Again, you don’t want to get your hopes up, but when he lifts his head and sees you approaching him, you swear to God, you see his whole face light up.  He looks a little pale, maybe. But it also might just be the fluorescent lights of the hallway.

“How do you think you did?” he asks, falling into step beside you.

And, you think, it’s now or never, now, isn’t it? Classes are over. You may never see Sam again (although, you like to think the two of you are close enough now that you would at least remain friends outside of having classes together, but still, the sentiment remains). So you change the subject and ask, “Would you wanna get dinner with me on Saturday?” 

He pauses, freezes in place pretty much, and you stop to match him. “Dinner, like…dinner?” he asks, as if that question makes any sense. 

You laugh, a little awkward, and adjust your backpack straps. “Uh, yeah. Like, dinner.” You don’t want to explicitly mention it being a date. You feel like he likes you, you really do, but if you’re wrong…that rejection is going to sting. So you don’t say it, not explicitly. 

But still, Sam’s face lights up with a grin. “Yeah. I’d…really love to get dinner with you, actually. I’ll have to—I’ll text you. But…yes, yeah. I’d love to.” 

You’re pretty sure the smile on your face matches his. “Okay. Then, I’ll see you on Saturday. And you’ll text me.” 

“I’ll text you,” he agrees. 

The two of you linger for a moment before parting, and you have never been more excited to say goodbye to someone in your entire fucking life. 

When you get home, you have a text message. ‘I’ll pick you up. Does 7 work for you?’

You have to take a moment to squeal into your pillow before answering that yes, 7 does work for you, and you’re excited to see him then. And then, as an afterthought, your address.

God, you need to find something to wear.

Saturday comes around, and you’re fully ready by 6. Sam’s almost always shown up early, after all. Your TV plays news footage, stating that the clinics have taken to putting up extra security around their blood banks to no avail. You couldn’t care less, too giddy and girlishly excited to even think about the stolen blood bags. 

6:45 rolls around. Sam isn’t there. That’s…fine. He’s not obligated to show up early. You set up a time to pick you up for a reason, right? There’s no reason for the sinking feeling in your gut. 

7:00. No sign of Sam. But that’s no reason to worry. Maybe he got stuck in traffic. People are late sometimes, and you don’t need to panic just because Sam’s never been late before. 

At 7:30, you shoot Sam a text. ‘are you okay? don’t tell me you forgot about me :( lol’ You don’t get a response. 

You don’t change back into lounge clothes until 8, and you don’t take off your makeup until 8:30, and that’s only because you’re pretty sure you’re about to start crying and ruin it anyway. 

The real kicker is that you thought Sam, at the very least, considered you a friend. Or at least friendly enough to let you down easy rather than agree to a date and then stand you up. Clearly, you severely misread the entire situation. You entirely misunderstood Sam in general, if he’s really the type of person to do this sort of thing. 

Wiping hot tears off your face, you cork open your expensive bottle of wine. Desperate times, right?

Two hours and half a wine bottle later, you’ve swung from devastated to angry. How dare he stand you up? You’re a catch! You’re gorgeous, you’re funny, you’ve ignored all of his weird quirks and red flags, and for what? To cry into a glass or five of overpriced wine on a Saturday night? Screw that. You should call him and give him a piece of your mind.

Or…no, you’re pretty drunk, actually, so you probably shouldn’t call him. But you could text him. Yeah. You fumble for your phone, furiously typing out a text and hitting send without a second thought. ‘if u werent interested in me u cldve just said so. didnt have 2 ghost me’ 

Next thing you know, you’re opening your eyes the next morning with a killer headache, a damn near empty bottle of wine, and no response from Sam. While you’re curled over the toilet, the alcohol isn’t the only thing turning your stomach. There’s a worry brewing there too. 

Because the more you think about it, the more that this really just doesn’t feel like Sam. Now that you’re further out from it, you can acknowledge that much. When you ask yourself if you truly believe that the guy who bought you your favorite drink every time you met up, the guy who remembered every single thing you ever told him, the guy whose face totally lit up when you asked him to dinner—when you ask yourself if that guy would stand you up, you truly, honestly don’t believe he would. So the real question is: why did he?

You fight through the worry until about halfway through your shift on Monday when you realize that with finals over, you have absolutely no idea when, or even if you’ll see Sam again. You call him. It rings all the way through until you get his voicemail, and you wish the sound of his voice could calm you, but it only reminds you that he’s not answering. You don’t leave a message, sending him a text instead. ‘seriously, are you okay? please at least let me know you’re not dead.’ You’re not surprised to find you haven’t gotten a response the next time you check your phone, walking to your car at the end of the day. Desperately, heart-clenchingly worried, but not surprised. 

You open your laptop the second you get home, furiously searching anything you can think of. You search for his name again, hoping to find anything that could point you towards family or friends, to the brother he mentioned. You search local obituaries, John Does, anyone who might even bear the slightest resemblance to Sam, but there’s nothing. Nothing, until you accidentally click on one of the articles about the blood theft. There, in a blurry screenshot of footage from the new security cameras one of the blood banks had installed, you see it. You recognize his brother’s gorgeous fucking car. 

Your eyes go wide. Holy shit, you’ve been flirting with a criminal. You scroll up through the article, reading furiously, but it doesn’t even mention the car, focusing instead on the blurry, shrouded figure entering the doors. Is this why Sam went missing? Laying low until he can be sure no one will connect the footage of the car to him or his brother? Why the fuck is he stealing blood bags in the first place? Needless to say, the discovery leaves you with more questions than it does answers. 

The world, unfortunately, does not stop with this revelation. You go to bed. You get up, you go to work, you come home. You think about Sam. You have no idea what you’re supposed to do in this situation. Should you go to the police? It’s not like he’s killing people but…it’s still illegal to steal blood bags. Also morally wrong, probably. Plus, you now have information that could help forward an ongoing police investigation. You’re not entirely sure what counts as aiding and abetting, but you’re not exactly itching to find out where the line is. 

On the other hand, Sam never seemed particularly…criminal-like to you. Strange, sure, but he was nice. Kind, even. You never in a million years would’ve pegged him as some sort of criminal mastermind. That’s got to count for something. Right? At the very least, you think it allows him the benefit of the doubt. So…late Tuesday night, you send him another text, the last one you’ll ever send him. Probably. ‘hey so keep ignoring me if im wrong but are you the one stealing blood from the clinics?’ 

He doesn’t text you back, and you pretend that means you’re wrong. That you can clear your conscience and go to sleep. That you can go to work and stop worrying about vintage cars in blurry security footage. 

Then the sun goes down on Wednesday, and someone knocks on your door. 

The man on the other side of it is unfamiliar to you. He’s wearing a leather jacket, an amulet hanging off his neck. There’s absolutely no reason you should recognize him as quickly as you do. Except that he has this quality about him, something unreal or maybe inhuman, and you’ve seen it before. You can’t quite tell what color his eyes are.

He smiles at you, and confirms it. “You’re ____, right? Sam’s told me all about you.” This is Sam’s brother, the one with the car. The car that you recognized in the blood bank footage. “I’m Dean. Can I come in?” 

You keep your hand on the edge of the door, ready to slam it in his face if need be. “How’d you get my address?” you ask, instead of answering the question. This man could be dangerous. You trust Sam, mostly, but his brother…that’s a different story.

“Sammy had it. Remember? For your little date.” Dean says, taking a step towards the threshold. You take a step back. “Can I come in now?” 

You ignore the fear raging down your spine, the urge to turn tail and run away. Sam carries himself differently than Dean, presents himself in such a way that instead of cowering away from him, you want to keep looking. His strangeness is intriguing, not off-putting. Dean, though, he takes those same qualities and twists them on their head. Dean looks at you, and your entire body screams Danger! Like he’s some sort of predator. “Why are you here?” 

“Look, I don’t have time for this,” he snaps. He takes another step forward, but stays notably on the other side of the door. Just barely. “Sam needs help. Are you gonna invite me in, or not?” 

He could be lying. He could be manipulating the affection you already have for his brother to get you to let him in so he can off you, maybe the only person who’s connected him to his crimes. But, if that was the case, why wouldn’t he have just forced his way in? And also, why the fuck would he go that far just to cover up some stolen blood bags? “What’s wrong with Sam?” you ask, stepping back from the door to allow him inside. When in Rome, right?

His lips press together, like he’s irritated, though you can’t imagine why. You’re letting him in, which is what he wanted. He stares at you for a moment before sighing, world weary, like he’s holding the weight of a hundred lifetimes of idiocy on his shoulders. Jesus, this guy’s dramatic. “You have to invite me,” he grits out. 

Your confusion only grows, but you oblige anyway. “Okay…come in, then.” 

Dean steps into the apartment almost as soon as you’ve said it, like you’ve only just now opened the door. You back up a few steps further. 

“Just so you know,” you say, standing up taller and trying to act less terrified than you feel, “I have a gun. So don’t- don’t try anything ‘cause I’ll shoot you.” You’re completely bluffing, of course, but there’s no way Dean could know that. 

“No, you don’t,” Dean says, like he definitely knows you were bluffing. Well, great. “Besides, I’m not here to hurt you. My brother needs help, you think I’m gonna kill the only person who can help him?” 

He doesn’t look like he’s lying. Then again, you’re pretty sure this man is a criminal, so maybe he’s just a really good liar. “Yeah, you said that before. If he needs my help so bad, why didn’t he just tell me himself?” It’s not like you slammed the door in Sam’s face and told him to leave you alone. You’ve sent him four texts and a phone call since he dropped off the face of the earth last week. He’s had every opportunity to ask for your help. 

“Cause he’s sick,” Dean tells you. He lifts his hands before he approaches you, like you’re some sort of wild animal that he doesn’t want to spook. Embarrassingly, it works. “Really sick.” 

You shake your head, bemused. “I don’t understand—what does that have to do with me? If he’s sick, he needs a doctor. Not…a random college student.” 

Dean nods. “Yeah, he would. But he’s got…it’s complicated.” He pauses in his approach and nods his head toward you. “Can I come closer, or are you gonna shoot me, tough girl?” 

You roll your eyes, but gesture him closer. “Be my guest, so long as it means you’re gonna tell me something that actually makes sense.” You’re tired of the riddles, frankly. If he doesn’t give you real answers soon, you don’t care how terrifying he is, you’re gonna have to do something drastic.

Dean scoffs. “Yeah, I can see why Sam likes you,” he mutters, shaking his head. “See, me and Sam…we’re not exactly normal. If I took him to a doctor, not only would they not be able to fix him, they’d probably kill him.” He stops beside you, forcing you to look up at him as he speaks. He cuts an intimidating figure, even without the air of a predator about him. You really, really wish you actually owned a gun.

“What do you mean by that?” you ask, voice quiet in the face of this hunter. “That you’re not normal?” 

He grins, big and sharp and toothy. And then his illusion drops. Your eyes seem to fail you, like someone’s dropped the floor out from under you and then told you the floor was never real in the first place. His eyes catch your attention first, blood red and striking. And then, of course, you see his teeth—no, his fangs. Two long, sharp, killer fangs where his canines used to be. “Welcome to the night of the living dead, sweetheart.”

Vampires are real. There’s a monster in your fucking living room. This is crazy. You should be screaming. You should shove this man out the door and lock it behind him and maybe never leave your apartment again. Instead, you blurt out, “So that’s why you were stealing blood bags.” Honestly, a lot of things are starting to make way more sense now. You’re almost embarrassed you didn’t think of it before. 

Dean laughs. “Right on the money.” You flinch as he claps you on the shoulder, and he laughs at you again. 

“So…I’m guessing Sam doesn’t just have a regular old stomach bug, then?” You really feel like you should be having a more extreme reaction to this situation. You just found out that not only are vampires real, but you’ve been actively flirting with one. You think maybe you’re in shock. “This is some sort of weird…vampire virus, or something?” 

“Smart girl,” he says, pointing at you approvingly. “Though it’s not exactly a virus, more like…food poisoning. Actually, we call it blood poisoning. Comes from drinking stale blood—bagged blood, for example—rather than fresh from the source.” 

You frown. “Why drink bagged blood, then, if it makes you sick?” 

“Why do people go vegan even though they need protein?” Dean counters. “Harm reduction. Plus, it doesn’t always make us sick. It’s pretty rare, actually. More common now than, you know, the olden times, but it happened back then too. Storing blood in vials, bottles, anything can make blood go stale, but it means you don’t have to hurt as many people getting it. Some things are worth the risk.” 

That much, at least, you can understand. “So this…this stale blood, whatever—it makes you sick,” you repeat, that same worry for Sam from before roiling in your stomach again. “How sick?” 

Dean grimaces, so whatever it is is clearly not good news. “It can kill us. Pretty easily, too. I have to tell you, I don’t know exactly how it works. Sam’s way better at this sort of thing.” He taps his fingers against your coffee table. “But I do know how to fix it.” 

It’s pretty easy to guess. Dean’s here, despite the fact his brother is apparently dying, and there’s really only one thing you have that they don’t. “He needs blood,” you say quietly, beating Dean to the punch. “Fresh blood.” 

He nods and shoots you a stilted smile. “Quick on the draw, huh?” The two of you stare at each other for a moment before he sighs, shaking his head. “Sam hates what he is. Doesn’t matter that he’ll die without it, he won’t hurt anyone. He just won’t.”

You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly uncomfortable with Dean’s intense stare, like he can see straight into your soul. “So- so, what am I supposed to do about it?” you ask, your shoulders shrugging helplessly. “I’m still a person. I can’t force him to do something he doesn’t want to do.” 

Dean takes a step toward you, and this time you don’t step back or shrink away. He’s dangerous, sure, but not to you. Not as long as you’re the only thing standing between his brother and certain death. “Look, Sam really likes you. If he knew I was here right now, and he wasn’t on his deathbed, he’d kill me. But I just—I’ve tried. It’s been a week, and I’ve tried so hard—” He ducks his head as he cuts off, his jaw working over clenched teeth. “I know that you care about him, right? I mean, I saw the texts; I know—I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t desperate. I can’t just sit around and watch my little brother die. I had to try. I have to try.” 

Seeing him now, you almost can’t believe you were afraid of him. He looks almost terrified himself. And despite the uncertainty you feel, the fear, well…there’s a clear answer here. Yes, there’s a chance Sam refuses to feed from you, but there’s also a chance to save him. You can’t just stand back and let him die because you’re scared. “Okay.”

Dean’s eyes snap to yours again. They sparkle with hope, and even though the illusion is dropped, even though his eyes are red and his teeth are viciously sharp, for the first time since you first saw him, he looks human. “Okay?” 

“Take me to him,” you tell him, moving past him to grab your coat off the hanger by your door. “Let me try to save him.” 

Dean gives you the key to the apartment and a wish good luck, but stays in the car (which, yes, is just as nice as you imagined, though you wish you’d gotten to experience it under different circumstances). He tells you as you climb out the passenger door, “If this goes the way I hope it does, you two aren’t gonna want me there. Trust me.” 

Apprehension keeps you rooted outside the locked door, biting a hole through your bottom lip. There’s a lot of ways this could go. Quite a few of them could end up with you dead, and you’d be a fool not to acknowledge that. Then again, you’d also be a fool not to acknowledge what you know about Sam, what Dean’s told you about him today. Kind, gentle Sam, who is sick and dying, but apparently still refuses to hurt anyone. Who drinks from blood bags, despite the risk, simply because it means he can live without harming others. He doesn’t deserve to die.

You take a deep breath, and unlock the door. 

The apartment is…Well, it’s a little dingy, but it’s cozy. Homey. There’s clutter and trinkets on every shelf, books that look so old that you fear they’d disintegrate if you touched them. It occurs to you, then, that you don’t know how old Sam actually is. A memory flashes in your mind of his name mentioned in records from the 1800s. Holy shit. 

“Dean?” You recognize Sam’s voice, but it’s thin and croaky. Weak. Really sick, Dean had said. “Are you home?” 

  You follow the sound of his voice into a bedroom, and the stale smell of illness almost makes you stumble back from the doorway. It doesn’t smell bad, necessarily, so much as still and wrong. Sam’s been in this room, wallowing in sickness, for a week. Your heart aches for him. “Not Dean,” you say quietly, hoping not to spook him. You approach the bed, and only just keep from gasping at the state of the man curled up in it. Sam is pale and sunken, visibly weak and malnourished. He’s trembling, shaking all over with chills, maybe, or just tremors in general. 

His face changes when he hears your voice, his brows furrowed in confusion. He opens his eyes and peers up at you over his cocoon of blankets. His eyes, like Dean’s, are red, but unlike Dean’s, they’re glassy and tired, his eyelids fluttering like he’s struggling to keep them open. “____? What…what’re you doing here?” He pushes himself up to sit, and you can see the effort it takes him to do even that, his arms shaking under his own weight. 

You sit gingerly on the edge of the bed beside him. “Dean sent me,” you tell him, ratting Dean out immediately. 

Sam groans, rubbing his hands over his eyes. The veins in his hands are standing out, ugly, mottled red under pale skin. As if the blood really had poisoned him. “I’m gonna kill him.” Wow, Dean hadn’t even exaggerated, huh?

“Not like this, you’re not,” you mutter, reaching out to take his hand in yours. “Jesus, Sam…” He’s ice cold to the touch like he’s been out in the snow for hours. You curl your hands around his, trying to warm him. 

His gaze flicks to them, your hands barely covering his. “Sorry I missed our date,” he says, mournful like he really is repentant, like standing you up is the worst sin he could’ve possibly committed. “It…was a date, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it—I meant for it to be.” You huff out a laugh, sympathetic as you smile at him. “And, you know, somehow I can’t find it in myself to hold it against you.” 

Sam laughs, and for the first time, you catch a glimpse of his fangs. They’re just as viciously sharp as Dean’s, but they somehow look less dangerous on Sam. You’d worry you’d been charmed or something (isn’t that supposed to be something vampires can do? You have to admit, you’re a little out of the loop of vampire lore), if you weren’t certain that Sam would never do something like that. No, not charmed, not in any sort of magical sense. “I’ll die happy then.” 

Wow, you see the dramatics run in the family. “You’re not going to die,” you say firmly, releasing Sam’s hand to brush his bangs out of his face. He’s freezing all over. It makes you want to wrap him up in your arms, make sure he never goes cold again. You settle for pressing your palm against his cheek, your fingers cupping around his jaw. 

“I am, though,” he shoots back, like he’s arguing about who’s answer on the homework is right, not about his actual, literal life. “I’m going to die. But that’s—it’s okay. It’s been a week, so I’ve sort of come to terms with it.” 

“Screw that.” You turn more firmly towards him, pulling your legs under you to kneel on the bed. “Seriously, screw that. I can help you. If you think I’m just gonna- what, stand aside and let you die, then you really don’t know me at all.” 

“Sure. And you’re just gonna fix me, huh?” He shakes his head, turning it away from you with a huff. “All sunshine and rainbows after that. Not like I’ll have to bleed you to get better, right? Oh, wait.” Oh, he’s such a fucking diva, even on his deathbed, apparently.

“Oh, my God—yeah! I sort of figured it wouldn’t exactly be pleasant.” You didn’t spend all that time hesitating at the door because you thought it would be a walk in the park. “But if the choice is between that and letting you die, there’s no contest. I don’t understand why you’re so set on it when I’m sitting here offering you a solution!” 

“Maybe I don’t want to be saved!” His outburst silences you, especially because it seems to take a lot of energy from him to snap at you like that. He stares you down, red eyes meeting yours, and you…you don’t know what to say to that. 

You can lead a horse to water, but… “Sam—”

He cuts you off with another shake of his head. “Dean…he used to tell me that what we are doesn't make us monsters, it’s what we do. And I really wish I believed that, but the thing is, I…am going to die if I don’t feed from someone, like- like a fucking parasite. What is that if not monstrous?” 

“I don’t think you’re a monster,” you tell him. Slowly, cautiously, you reach for his face and replace your hand on his cheek, turning his gaze to meet yours. “I actually happen to think you’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. I don’t know what kind of monster would’ve apologized for getting deathly ill and accidentally standing me up.” 

His eyes flick over your face, like he’s searching for something. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.” His voice, thin and mournful, is heartbreaking. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t know—I’ve never been sick like this before. It’s possible I won’t have a lot of control if I feed on you like this.” 

That’s sort of what you were afraid of. But that’s the benefit of him feeding from you, rather than some random person off the street, right? You know what’s going on. “I won’t let you go too far,” you assure him. “Sam, please. I want to do this for you. Let me…let me help you.” 

His eyes meet yours, and he seems to find what he’s looking for. He lifts his hand and brushes your hair back off your neck. “If I do this—if—it’ll hurt, at first,” he tells you, placing his hand on your shoulder. Just resting there. It sends sparks down your spine all the same. “But not for long. It’ll start to feel good, kind of like getting high. But if I—I’m not going to bite you if I’m not sure you’ll be able to stop me if I take too much.” 

“I’ll stop you. If I have to.” You trust him, mostly. But you’re also aware that he hasn’t fed in a week, so you’re prepared to have to at least alert him to your blood loss. 

His fingers trail along your neck, goosebumps following in his wake. His eyes follow the path of his touch, and his hands may be hesitant, but you can see the hunger in his eyes. Maybe you can make the horse drink, after all. “Are you sure?” he asks, and his hand moves to the back of your head. Bracing. 

“I told you—” you say, your voice coming out almost as quiet as a breath— “I want to do this for you.” 

“Okay.” He leans forward until you can feel his breath on your neck. It’s almost cold, unnaturally so. “Tilt your head a little more, that way—there you go,” he instructs, and that tone in his voice is…yeah. You are definitely glad Dean didn’t come in with you. His lips brush your skin when he speaks next, “Ready?” 

“Yes.” You’re not sure how you manage to get your voice to come out as stable as it does. You bring your hands up to brace on his shoulders, and your grip goes a bit tighter when you feel his fangs press, just barely, against your skin. “Yeah, I’m—go ahead.” 

You’ve never been bitten by a vampire before. You have no frame of reference of whether this is what it’s like every time, or if it’s just a Sam thing. Or if it’s just a you and Sam thing. But the whole process is intensely intimate in a way you weren’t expecting. Even when he first sinks his fangs in and it stings, makes you draw in a sharp breath. He’s a little uncoordinated, you think, and maybe goes in at a weird angle, because he draws his teeth out to sink them in again, but not before his tongue flicks out to catch the blood that drips down the side of your neck. The gasp that escapes you this time is not just from the pain.

He was right, of course. It does hurt at first. But the pain is offset by his hand on your head, his fingers curling just so to grip your hair. You swear you can feel in real time as he gets his strength back. As your blood flushes the sickness out of him. You’re not sure there is anything more intimate than that. 

You think maybe you expected a transition between pain and euphoria, but there is no slow fade. In between one blink and the next, the pain disappears, replaced with a floaty, echoing pleasure that has your fingers clutching at Sam’s shirt. Everything around you goes a little unfocused, fuzzy, except for everywhere Sam touches, where you swear your nerves are lighting up with sparks and ecstasy. You might be making noises. It’s a little hard to tell, your senses dampened as they are. 

“Sam…” You shove a little at his shoulders when you notice your hands start to shake. He hums, and you feel it on your skin. You can see, now, why he likened this feeling to getting high, although you’re not sure it’s the feeding that you can see yourself getting addicted to. You shove him a little harder. “Gettin’ dizzy here.” 

He pulls back from your neck, and your senses return to you in a rush of sound and a pinprick sort of ache where his teeth had sunk into your skin. You watch, full focused vision returned, as Sam wipes at his mouth and then drags his tongue over his hand, now free of mottled veins, to catch the blood that had, you assumed, spilled as he drank from you. Like he can’t bear to waste a single drop. You swallow thickly, your mouth suddenly very dry. 

“You taste like…” He trails off, and then his mouth is on you again, but not biting. No, his tongue drags up your throat, and it occurs to you—vaguely, through the fog of earth-shattering, soul-bending lust that settles over you—that if blood had spilled down his mouth, then it stands to reason that it had made a mess of your neck as well. Not that you’re complaining, if this is the result of a little mess. He makes a soft noise against your skin, his breath hot now in a way it hadn’t been before. “Taste like…” His voice peters off again, distracted or just unable to find the words to describe it.

Yeah, screw this. “Let me find out for myself,” you murmur, your hands moving from his shoulders to his face—and his skin, too, is warmer now, almost the temperature you would generally expect it would be—until you can drag him into a kiss. The answer, as it turns out, is blood. You taste like blood, although you sort of assume it tastes different to him. Strangely, the flavor isn’t as off-putting as you would assume, especially not when he groans and uses his grip on your hair to tilt your head, kiss you deeper. !You lick into his mouth, tasting your actual, literal blood on his tongue, and you…don’t have the words to describe how absurdly hot it is.  

He’s not careful with his fangs, not really, lets them catch on your bottom lip and draw out pinpricks of blood that he soothes with his tongue. It makes the whole thing a little messy; he’s got blood smeared over his lips when you pull back to breathe. Your eyes track his tongue as he licks it up. 

His hand, the one that’s not braced on the back of your head, brushes against the skin of your waist under the hem of your shirt. “Is this okay?” he asks quietly, still so close that you can feel the words on your lips. 

Is this okay? You almost have to laugh at the question. As if you hadn’t wanted him since the first moment you saw him. “Yeah,” you tell him, a little smile tugging at your lips. “It is so absolutely more than okay.” 

At your confirmation, he smiles too, and his hand rests more firmly on your waist, almost grounding. “Well, I didn’t buy you dinner first. Wouldn’t want you to think I was ungentlemanly,” he says, drawing a soft laugh from you. 

“Aw, well. You did try.” You press forward, leaving a short kiss on his lips as your hand shifts from his face to tangle your fingers through his hair. “Plus, I mean…technically, I—”

Sam cuts you off with a kiss, but you can feel his grin against your mouth. “That does not count,” he protests.

“I dunno,” you say, a little sing-song in your voice as you grin at him. “I did quite literally just save your life. I think we might be a little past dinner.” 

He scoffs, shaking his head at you. He’s not annoyed though. You can tell, because his fingers flex on your waist and then move, brushing up your side. “Uh-huh. Sounds to me like I’m slacking.” He ducks his head and presses two short, soft kisses to your neck, right on top of the pinprick aches. “I’ll have to repay you. You did just save my life, after all.” 

Almost subconsciously, your fingers tighten in his hair. Anticipation settles in the small space between you, a space that grows even smaller when his hand presses against the small of your back and tugs your closer. “I did just save your life,” you repeat, your voice significantly breathier than it was before.

He laughs, a little puff of breath against your skin, and his lips drag down your throat in a line of open mouthed kisses until it lands at your pulse point. You swear to God, time slows down as he breathes in, slow and deep like he’s smelling your blood beneath your skin, and then presses his teeth to it until you can feel the points of them, precarious like water pooled on top of a penny. He doesn’t bite down, doesn’t break the skin, but fuck, you almost want him to. It seems like he wants to, too, as he closes his mouth with a snap. “Fuck…” He pulls back and lifts his eyes to yours. “Can I taste you? Please?” 

It takes you a second to understand what, exactly, he means. He’d already tasted you; if he wanted more blood, he could’ve just bitten you again. Then, it clicks, and you…well, what are you supposed to say to that? Sam Winchester, all big, cow eyes and mouth smeared with your blood, so politely asking to eat you out, like you’d be giving him a gift. How could you possibly turn that down? “Yeah. Yeah, fuck, that’s—yeah.” 

You only see his answering smile for half a second before his lips are on yours again, kissing, biting, while his hand caresses over the bare skin of your stomach. His kiss, his touch, is almost overwhelming, doesn’t leave you much room to think about anything else but him. Not that you really want to. He tugs at the hem of your shirt, pulls back just far enough from you to speak, and even then you can feel his lips move against yours as he asks, “Can I take this off?” 

You really do laugh this time, drawing your hands down his neck and over his shoulders. “I appreciate the whole gentleman thing, I really do, but Sam, baby, I’ve wanted you since before I even knew your name. So let’s just assume that whatever you wanna do, I really fuckin’ want it, too.” 

His eyes flick over your face, and you can literally feel the cocky ass grin he gets at that. It is, unfortunately, like everything else he does, ridiculously sexy. “That long, huh?” He’s such a dick. You want him more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your entire life. He tugs back and drags his gaze down your torso, his hand leaving your hair to join the other in toying with the hem of your shirt. “Guess I shouldn’t keep you waiting any longer, then.” His hands brush against the skin of your stomach as he pulls your shirt up and over your head before tossing it aside, not caring where it lands. You’ll find it later. Or you won’t. 

His eyes lave over your newly bare skin, his hands following shortly behind. “You are so beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing his palms flat against your stomach and dragging them up your ribs. “Can you lay back for me, darling?” he asks, even as his hands press you back against the mattress before you can respond. 

You go easily, not in the least because the name knocks the breath out of you. “Darling?” you echo, shifting until you’re resting comfortably against the nest of pillows at the head of the bed. 

Sam climbs over you, his knee nudging yours until you spread your legs to make room for his hips to settle between your thighs. “Is that alright?” he asks, ducking his head to press his lips to the hinge of your jaw. 

More than alright, if the fluttering in your stomach is anything to go by. “It’s fine,” you say, playing it cool. Then, because his hands are rubbing up and down the bare skin of your sides and his teeth (the blunt ones, not the fangs, because he has much more self control than you do) are nipping at the skin of your neck, you play it decidedly uncool and continue, “Darling.” 

You feel his answering smile against the skin of your collarbone as he and his kisses and his teeth travel down the line of your neck and chest, pausing at the edge of your bra. He lifts his eyes to meet yours through his lashes as his lips press the softest of kisses there. “‘M gonna take this off, now,” he tells you, his voice deep and rumbling. His hands move up your back, and you arch your spine to allow him room to do so. He undoes your bra clasp without removing his lips from your chest, tugs the garment down your arms and tosses it vaguely in the same direction as your shirt without a second thought. 

“I thought about this, you know,” he says, softly, against the skin in the valley of your breasts. “Getting my mouth on you. How it would feel.” He shifts his attention, his lips closing over your nipple while his hand palms your other breast. It draws a soft gasp from your lips, your fingers twisting in his hair. “How you’d sound,” he continues, his voice a little cocky now. 

“Sam…” His name falls from your lips on an exhale, like you’re breathing him in, like he’s pumping through your veins the same way you’re now pumping through his. 

He smirks. If you thought he was cocky before… “Yeah, pretty much—” He presses that smirk against one nipple and brushes his thumb over the other, and while your head is dropping back onto the pillows with a moan, he laves his tongue over it to make you moan even louder— “just like that.” He's got you so distracted, you almost don't notice his free hand trailing down your stomach, brushing along the waistband of your jeans, not until his fingers undo the button with practiced ease. 

“Oh, God, you are so unfairly hot.” You lift your head to watch as he kisses his way down your stomach until he finally reaches your waistband with his mouth, too, and leaves a nippy little bite there. 

He laughs, glances up at you with that fucking smirk as he drags your jeans down your hips. “Unfair to who? You?” The two of you maneuver a bit until he can tug your pants off your ankles and toss them aside, another clothing casualty lost to the war on your sanity led by the swooping in your gut whenever Sam looks at you like that. 

“Not me,” you elaborate, although it’s hard to do so when Sam’s hands are settling on your hips and his thumbs are rubbing slow circles on your skin and dipping just so under the elastic of your panties on every other pass. “But, like, every other guy. How is anyone supposed to compete with…this?” 

This being Sam motherfucking Winchester, who had spent months shyly testing the waters and cautiously flirting so subtly that you were terrified you’d read him wrong, suddenly suave and confident and practically begging to eat you out. Oh, and also being, objectively, the hottest monster. This man has been terrorizing the dating pool for maybe centuries. You shudder to think how many women’s standards he has completely obliterated. 

Continuing the streak of obliterating your standards, he ducks his head, that shy smile on his lips again. “I mean, I should hope no one is competing with me in this particular instance,” he says, voice hesitant as if there’s a chance on Earth you’d ever turn him down. 

You shake your head, and honestly, you can’t help but laugh because a literal vampire is about to go down on you, and somehow the most unbelievable part of this situation is that he thinks he has an ounce of competition. “Are you actually asking me if I want to be exclusive right now?” you ask, drawing a hand up and through his hair, brushing his fringe off his forehead. “Because I feel like I made it so obvious how much I like you. Obviously, there is no competition.” 

You have the honor of watching Sam blush for the first time, and knowing that you made it possible. Your blood flushes his cheeks, makes his face go the prettiest shade of pink you’ve ever seen. 

 “Obviously,” he echoes, his words brushing against the skin just above your panties. His hands brush down your thighs, and he pulls one of your legs up and over his shoulder so your heel rests against his back. He turns his head, and with your thigh now bracketing his head, it’s easy for him to press an open-mouthed kiss there, and then another, and then another until he’s brought you back practically to panting again. 

“‘M gonna make you see stars,” he tells you, his lips pressed against the crease where your thigh meets your hip. “And then, because I am a gentleman, I’m going to buy you dinner. And I’m gonna be thinking about this—” He nips at your skin, bares his fangs this time and draws a well of blood and a gasp from you simultaneously— “The way you taste; the way you feel—I’m gonna be thinking about it the whole time.” He draws his hands back up to your hips just to tuck his fingers under the elastic of your panties, lifting his eyes to yours as he tugs on it. “Can I take these off?” 

You think you might die if he doesn’t. “Please.” 

His fangs seem to glint in the light when he grins, but he ducks his head before you can look again, a sort of hyperfocus to his posture as he shifts your hips and legs until he can pull your underwear off your ankles, and finally, finally, leaves you bare to him. He doesn’t waste a second, his hands dragging up your thighs and then spreading them further, his eyes roving over you like you’re the most beautiful work of art he’s ever seen. “Gorgeous.” His voice, breathy and sweet, washing over you is the only warning you get before his lips press against you in a surprisingly gentle kiss. 

Your lungs expand on a gasp, and then deflate on a moan as he laves his tongue between your folds, the muscle pressed flat and soft like a tease. Or a preview. You’re not totally sure you’re going to survive this actually. You might die with Sam’s tongue licking over your pussy, and honestly, what a fucking way to go. 

“Taste so good all over, huh?” Oh, holy fuck, he’s still talking. His lips brush over your skin and make you whine, and you’re pretty sure you can feel the vibrations of his voice better than you can hear him. “Feel like I should thank you. Letting me feed from you, and now this?” He makes it sound like it’s some sacrifice to let him go down on you, like you’re not gripping his hair so tight you’re surprised you’re not pulling it out. “You’re perfect.” 

“Oh, my God,” your voice comes out high and tight as he closes his lips over your clit and sucks. Your back arches off the bed, but as your hips shift to press up against his mouth, you find his hand pressed low on your stomach, pinning you down. “Sam—oh, my God.” 

You can feel as much as hear the soft, contented hums he’s making, like he’s never wanted to be anywhere more than with his head between your legs and his tongue drawing circles over your clit. His fangs, sharp and dangerous, are almost artfully pressed against your skin, just barely enough to feel the points of them. His free hand, the one not pressing you down against the mattress, keeps trailing up and down the outside of your thigh, making you shiver and press your heel into his back. And it’s so obvious he’s loving this maybe even as much as you are, his whole body shifting as he grinds down against the mattress, and God, that feels almost as good as his mouth on your cunt does. He’s getting off on the taste of you, on making you squirm and whine and moan.

It’s over the second he presses his tongue against your entrance and his nose smushes against your clit—everything after that is a jumble of sensation. The feeling of his tongue fucking in and out, his nose rubbing against you with every movement of his mouth, his hand grabbing at your thigh and holding your legs open when your muscles go tense and tight and anticipatory. 

He draws his tongue out of you with an obscene slurping sound that just has you hurtling even faster towards the edge, your hands grabbing at his hair for dear fucking life, white knuckled. “Are you gonna come?” he asks, his voice low and gruff and almost fucked out. You squeeze your eyes shut, nodding as if it wasn’t obvious from the constant stream of noises spilling from your lips. “Yeah? Go on, come on my tongue. Give it to me, darling, let me taste it.” 

How could you resist that? His words and his stupidly talented mouth draw you over the edge, your pussy spasming as you do exactly as he asked and come on his tongue. True to his word, he does, in fact, make you see stars, lights sparking behind your eyelids. His mouth works you through it until you’re whining and using your grip on his hair to tug him away, oversensitive as you come down from an explosive fucking orgasm. 

He presses kisses on your inner thigh as he shifts it off his shoulder, your body loose and pliant now. “There you go, good girl.” The words make your cunt give a valiant twitch, even as he draws himself up your body until he’s laying beside you and pressing kisses over your face. “Was that good?” 

You peek one eye open to look at him, incredulous. “Was that good—you’re so ridiculous, c’mere.” You turn your head to draw him into a slow, lingering kiss. Much like the taste of your blood in his mouth, the taste of your pussy on his tongue is, frankly, life-changing. You’re addicted already. 

He draws back with a soft laugh, his eyes traveling over your face with such obvious fondness that you have to press another quick kiss against his lips. “Okay, understood.” He brings his hand up to brush over your face, soft and gentle and such a contrast to the obscene pleasure he’d taken in going down on you that it makes your cheeks go warm. “So when can I buy you that dinner?” 

The question gives you pauses, and your eyes flick down his body, curious. “Did you not want me to…” 

You watch your blood, again, flood his cheeks as he laughs and rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “That’s not—I really like giving head,” he explains, as if that is not literally the hottest thing he could’ve possibly said. 

Fuck dinner, you wanna go five rounds with him back to back right now. “Okay,” you say, because he’s very sweet and he wants to be a gentleman and who are you to take that from him? “You can take me to dinner, if you swear you’ll let me suck you off when we get back. Deal?” 

The way his face lights up is worth having to wait. “Deal.”  

“And,” you continue, your hand smoothing over his hair where your grip had mussed it up, “next time you need blood, let’s just skip the whole ‘I’m a monster’ thing. I am more than willing to supply you; I have a vested interest in keeping you around.” 

He rolls his eyes, but the way he kisses you, fangs and all, tells you he gets it.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

You Make Me Wanna 5

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, best friend’s dad trope other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

Three times. Walter, Mr. Marshall, Detective, whoever he is that day, has driven by your house three times. Three times that you’ve noticed. 

The first time you recognised his car, you were taking out the trash. The second time, you were making sure your siblings got on the bus for school. And the third time, you’re coming out the front door, in uniform as you mentally steel yourself for another day at the grocery store. 

You try not to be too obvious as you look for him. You set out on your usual route, a peek here and there over your shoulder, a strategic glance down the street as you turn to cross. Maybe he can stop you for jaywalking. A perfect excuse for him to swing around his weight. 

You take out your phone as you come in sight of the plaza with the grocery store at its centre. Still not word from Faye. You really don’t expect her to be the first to reach out. You’re still sore yourself. It isn’t just that she ditched you, again, it’s that she was so quick to believe you sold her out. She knows the way her father is and yet just like him, she assumes you’re in the wrong. 

As you approach the front doors of the store, you glance back at the lot. It’s sparse with vehicles, still early enough that stockers work at the shelves and the deli still fills its baskets with slices and salads. You clock in and tie on your apron, taking your vigil behind a till. Debbie leaves you as the sole cashier as she goes to do her counts. 

You stare across the store, vision blurring, as the ceiling speakers drone out 80s pop. Your eyes nearly cross at the orbs of colours that form around you; the medley of produce, the smear of labels, and the looming shade of endless aisles. As you detach yourself from the monotony, you’re filled with a cloud of futile acceptance. Every day for the rest of your life. 

Last year, you still had hope. You remember you told Faye you could save up and join her at college. That’s definitely not going to happen. You barely saved a nickel. Just like high school, your cheques were spent picking up after your mom’s job hopping. Your siblings can’t go without food or clothes or everything you didn’t have. Even when you get a few staples free from the clearance cart, you’re still paying far too much just to feed the lot. 

Chrissie is almost fourteen now. She offered to put in an application but she’s still a few years from all that. Besides, you don’t want her to be like you. Only ever worrying about the empty fridge and your mom’s latest antics.  

Zooey is only ten and blissfully unconcerned with anything but anime and drawing in her sketchbook, and your brother, Milo, seven, likes to bring home frogs and snakes. They’re both too young to sense anything is off, though at times, they ask you very pertinent questions about the other kids in their class. 

You sigh. You never wanted this life. Against your will, you’ve inherited your mother’s lot. Your siblings need a parent and she’s not willing to be one. So, you’ll just have to ring through eggs and milk for the rest of your life and make sure they aren’t caught in the same bog. 

“Hey,” the sharp greeting draws you back. 

You blink and shake away the daze. You look over at Mr. Marshall. Not again. You do your best to smooth the worry from your forehead and reach for the sole item on the belt. An excuse, you’re sure. 

You can through the breakfast tray of a hardboiled egg, pita, hummus, cheese, and grapes. The beep chirps harshly in your ears as he stares you down over the top of your till. You stifle a yawn as you hover your hand over the buttons. 

“That everything?” You ask dully. 

“You looked worried,” he moves to lean on the other side of debit machine, where his tray awaits him. “Like maybe you’re keeping secrets.” 

You huff, “I told you I haven’t heard from Faye.” 

“I didn’t ask.” 

“Don’t treat me like I’m stupid,” you snap, “are you going to pay or do you want me to put this back, detective?” 

“I’m off duty,” he tilts his head, “night shift.” 

“Great, so credit or cash?” 

He puffs through his nostrils and squares his jaw, “lot of kids running around your place, huh?” 

“No,” you say curtly, “don’t.” 

“I’m just tryna figure out where my kid is. Pretty crowded at yours so... maybe she’s somewhere else.” 

“Maybe she is,” you utter in exasperation, “but I guess it doesn’t matter how many times I tell you that I don’t know where. You're still going to waste my time. And yours. So, please sir, cash or credit?” 

He scoffs and looks around, the place is still desolate, “you got time.” 

But you don’t have the patience. You barely keep from the retort. You turn and start tidying the till, distracting yourself as you rearrange your sanitizer and check the bin in case it was missed. 

“She’s my daughter. How would you feel if one of your sisters ran off, huh?” 

“You don’t get to talk about my sisters,” you turn back to him, “fine, alright, you want evidence, I’ll give you evidence, sir.” You take out your phone and flick through it in frustration, “the last message she sent me was the night we went out.” You turn the screen to him, “she hasn’t texted, she hasn’t called. Happy? Cause I don’t think she’s interested in being my friend anymore. She’s finally outgrown the poor girl.” 

You can’t help but throw the phone at him as your emotion wells up, “she was only ever friends with me to piss you off. Like I said, I’m not stupid. I just--” you cut yourself off, “I got work to do.” 

You turn back to the screen at your shoulder and brace the cash drawer. You take a slow breath and let it out. You’re embarrassed. He finally did it. He finally got you to crack. You refuse to look at him as he gently places your phone on the counter. 

“Got it,” he says softly, “she isn’t with you.” He clears his throat and shifts, “debit.” 

You grit your teeth, staring at the screen as you hit the button to activate the pin pad, “go ahead.” 

You listen to the beep of each button as he puts in his pin. You wait and the till chimes as the transaction goes through. You rip of the receipt and drop it beside you on the counter without looking. You can hear everything, even the soft noise of him slipping his card back in his wallet. You keep your attention on the monitor. 

“Enjoy your breakfast,” he says. 

Your furrow your nose as you listen to his footsteps and only turn when you hear the automatic door whoosh. You look down at your phone beside the tray of food, the receipt laid neatly over it. You peek up at the doors and your stomach growls. 

His pity is hardly preferable to his spite. 

[jigeuminunbich]

cherie amour | han dongmin (taesan)

synopsis in which dongmin finds himself falling head over heels for the regular that comes into his job (at a vintage record shop) every afternoon.

genre college!au, fem!reader, s2ls (strangers to lovers), and fluff

warnings halfway proofread ngl, kinda has a princess & the pauper vibe (reader is quite privileged & goes to an elite college), quite a few awkward pauses and bashful stares, and dongmin can’t flirt for the life of him

word count 2k

a/n first ff out of the neo realm, hope you all enjoy!

track-list my cherie amour x stevie wonder, can i call you rose? x thee sacred souls, and all i do is think of you x the jackson 5

A bead of sweat trickled down the side of Dongmin’s face. The rickety fan his boss had found from storage was doing absolutely nothing to shield him from the wrath of the summer heat— and the fact he refused to turn on the air conditioning wasn’t helping him in the slightest either.

Despite feeling like he had been transported to the sixth circle of hell, Dongmin didn’t mind his job, it had actually been a juvenile dream of his to work in a place much like this. Somewhere with artifacts filled with history, antique furniture and decor, a devoted community of customers— and surely, that’s what he got following being hired for this position.

But he definitely wasn’t expecting to be overworked as one of the few underlings for his incompetent boss who had inherited the place and having to endure the smell of what could only be described as vintage.

The continuous buzzing of the fan that whirred beside Dongmin’s propped, beat-up sneakers was muffled for a brief moment as in came one of the meager reasons he decided to put up with his job— only, even.

You.

Following the chime on the door, a wave of heat entered the record shop but you graciously came with it, so Dongmin couldn’t really complain. You greeted him with a smile as he hurriedly straightened in his seat and adjusted his posture stiffly. The smile was returned to the best of his abilities, but he’s sure it came off wonky and jarring.

Silently, you waltzed around the shop. It wasn’t very big, and he’s positive you’ve walked each aisle at least a few dozen times but it still had you coming back every other afternoon.

It was ritualistic for you to stumble into the small-scale record shop nestled between an antique boutique and a genuine crystal shop— Dongmin had become hip to this months ago when he had first began working here. Though, it was obvious to him that you had been doing this a lot longer than his time, judging by the way you interacted with veteran staff and even that dense boss of his.

You were around his age, clear from the cardigan you wore that was proudly embroidered in fancy cursive of what he discovered was your home school— the elite college that rivaled his. It had been an initial thought of his that maybe you were an alum and just liked the comfort that the sweater offered but after miraculously seeing you at a rival game between your two schools’ football teams— he knew for sure that you were close in age.

Unfortunately for him, those were the only details he had found on you. Alleged things about you floated around between his coworkers and to his own ears but he ignored them for solid truth. The truth was, you were clearly a devout music lover from a realm he didn’t know of, a school he could only dream of attending, and a lifestyle he had absolutely no experience in.

“Anything new that you recommend?” At the arriose sound of your voice, Dongmin came to a realization that he had been staring at you for far too long.

Under your curious gaze, he stilled. Nearly forgetting to breathe over the fact you were speaking to him. Another fact he had come to realize, is that you enjoyed your solitude. It wasn’t often that you spoke to him outside of your purchase of a vinyl or the rare CD. But when you did, Dongmin always fell into the same trap as if it was happening for the first time again.

“I—uh— what’s your genre?” He knew this already. You had an affinity for 60s music— he came to conclude from the dozen of vinyls he had previously rung up for you.

You hummed, glancing to the spotty ceiling as you contemplated. “I always go for oldies. Anything recent that you like?” As you asked this, you drew closer to the counter where Dongmin was quickly breaking out into a cold sweat over the fact you were verily nearing closer to him.

Your eyes didn’t waver from him, it was clear that you were genuinely interested in his own opinion.

“Well, I don’t listen to too much recent stuff myself, actually.” He managed to respond, not having the capacity to filter his honesty.

Now opposite of him by the counter, you giggled. Dongmin swore his heart skipped a beat, or two for that matter.

“Well, I guess you’re no help then?” Your voice lilted with humor, your head tilting.

“Heh. No, I guess not…” To Dongmin, he was sure your bout of conversation would end here. You would choose something along the lines of your usual, get rung up with some sort of small talk, and go on about your day while he finished out his shift wallowing about how he wished he could’ve said more to you.

“What’s your genre, then,” you squinted momentarily to double-check his nametag. “Dongmin?”

For a moment, Dongmin had forgotten his name was his own. You watched him blink at you for a few beats before visibly collecting himself.

“Me? Well, I like rock— like Nirvana and My Chemical Romance. But I like easy listening stuff too…”

You nodded, “I assumed just as much.”

Dongmin’s eyebrows shot up into his fringe, eyes wide with surprise. “Really?”

An endeared smile etched onto your lips instantly. “Yeah, every time you’re here they’re always playing over the speakers. But I hear the Carpenters every now and then, too. You have good taste.”

Dongmin fought the flattered expression that attempted to spread across his features, clearing his throat in an effort to swallow his excitement. “Thanks.”

You nodded, a silence floating in the air as you two both seemed to wait for the other to carry on the conversation. With the atmosphere starting to feel cramped, you open your mouth to ease the awkwardness but Dongmin thankfully beats you to it.

“We—uhm— actually just get in some new vinyls that I think you might like…”

You visibly perk up at this. “Did you?”

Dongmin nods, his tone coming off a bit hesitant. “Well, you get a rotation of the same artists, I noticed…”

Your laughter eases the weight on his shoulders, he finds himself smiling fondly as you nod your head in agreement. “No, yeah, I do. I guess I’m quite predictable,”

Dongmin shrugs. “There’s nothing wrong with that. I think your music taste is good too.”

You find yourself smoothing a hand over your jacket, flattered. “Thank you,”

“No problem.”

You both lock eyes for a beat longer than expected, your own being the ones to flit elsewhere as could feel the flutter of butterflies swarm in the base of your belly. Dongmin’s gaze on you is only interrupted when you clear your throat before speaking again.

“Did you want to show them to me?”

“Oh! Yeah, sorry,” As if he had been split from a trance, Dongmin lurches back into reality to begin leading you towards a dusty corner of the shop.

A giggle leaves you as you follow close behind. “No worries.”

It’s safe to say Dongmin did not fabricate that the new selections would be to your liking. You find yourself rifling through the crate carefully, multiple familiar artists’ cover arts calling your name. Dongmin can’t help but admire you as you work your way through the vinyls with pure amazement in your eyes.

“Anything catch your eye?” He gestures toward the basket that you were leisurely searching through.

Your gaze shifts upwards to where Dongmin is standing, sheepishly remembering that he was there. “A lot. I’m supposed to be on a budget for stuff like this but— Oh my god! I’ve been looking for this,” you excitedly pull out a yellowed Lesley Gore vinyl.

Dongmin’s amused laughter catches your attention and you roll your eyes at him before shaking your head. “Damn, why’d you have to know me so well?”

“Heh. I can get you a discount, if you’re interested?” Dongmin approaches you, delivering his sentence carefully to test your reaction.

You jerk away in surprise, shocked that Dongmin would even offer to do that for you. But you can tell he’s genuine as he watches you intently awaiting your response. “No, no. I just need to practice some self-control…”

“You sure? I can’t promise that old guy won’t buy up all the Marvin Gaye in here…” You follow his hands as they skim the top of the distressed and begrimed vinyls, almost like a hypnosis.

A huff leaves you, the memories of your elder competition that most likely had no idea was your competition coming to mind. “Shit— you’re right. Okay, fine. I’ll indulge myself just this once.”

You decide to humor Dongmin and yourself, picking through the crate again to remove several LPs that caught your attention. Dongmin nods, finding confidence in being able to bond with you. After you make your final decision, you both head back over to the counter to finalize your transaction.

“You didn’t have to do this, y’know. I’m sure this is actually against the rules…”

“Nah. It’s fine my boss does it all the time for customers he likes too—“ Dongmin realizes his slip of tongue a little too late, his expression reminding you of a deer in the headlights.

“Really now?” You muse.

“Uh—yeah,” Dongmin coughs. “That’s your total…”

Your eyebrows jump instinctively at the outcome, gladly digging around in your bag for your card. “Damn. I’m glad you like me because inflation is killing me right now, here,”

Dongmin accepts your payment and you don’t miss the way he avoids your eyes bashfully. When everything is squared away, your hefty bag in hand, he decides he’s capable of addressing you head on.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you around then?” He visibly forces out, internally hoping it comes across as natural (he doesn’t).

You nod automatically but have a sudden train of thought that you decide to take a chance and verbalize. “Actually… do you get off any time soon?”

The boy across from you is clearly stunned at the inquiry, blinking at you a couple times before answering. “Uh— in about an hour, actually…”

“Cool. I’ll be at the café across the street, if you don’t have anything to do that is… I feel like it’s only right that I repay you…” The last of your sentence trails off as you feel you’re rambling on, but Dongmin couldn’t have looked more interested in you.

“No! I mean, I don’t have anything to do— I’m free, yeah.” Dongmin shuffles, setting himself in a pose that he hoped conveyed how nonchalant he wanted to be but was clearly failing to do so.

You find yourself amused with his antics— a bit flattered as well. “Alright then, see you in an hour?” He nods intently while he watches you back away from the till.

“An hour it is.” He affirms, returning the wave you spare him before the shop’s door chimes again. Promptly, your warmth leaves him to the humidity of the shop. But he holds his pose knowing he’ll be engulfed in it once more.

© jigueminunbich ‘24

[eddiesghxst]

PRICE OF FAME (PART 5/12)

HEHEHE THIS ONES PACKED W LOTS OF... STUFF, ENJOYYYY!!!

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: eddie doesn't think he hates you anymore and you can't figure out eddie's game

contains: enemies to lovers trope, smoking, drug and alcohol use, sexual themes, masturbation (f), maybe a little kith (hehe), flirting, and eddie being a jealous boy <3

word count: 6.5k

| previous part | next part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

The four-day break seems to go by in the blink of an eye, and before you know it, it’s show day again.

As always, everybody is busy and filled with pre-show jitters. Although Eddie and Gareth have yet to speak with one another and resolve their dispute, breakfast is not as tense as last time, and you assume the time away from each other has aided in that realm. But then again, you have an inkling that Eddie is only putting up a nice front for Wayne since it’s his last day in New York.

Eddie is stiff and rigid throughout the morning, taught as a guitar string and vividly battling something he has yet to announce. He’s quiet at breakfast and only speaks when directly addressed, and he doesn’t taunt any back and forth that could transpire between him and Gareth. Jeff’s girlfriend joins the table for the first time, and you sit beside her. 

Naomi is kind and bubbly with tight, curly brown strands that smell of honey and lime whenever she brushes past you. She’s from a small town in Georgia, where she spent most of her life before going off to college and getting a bachelor's in fine arts. She tells you about her most recent projects and showcases and even invites you to attend if you’re ever in town, and you take her number to keep in contact.

Jeff has radiant energy throughout the meal, and you think he and Naomi make a fine couple with how they seem to complete each other.

After breakfast, you make a few calls for work and fill in Anna on your progress. She informs you that they’re working on setting a date for Corroded Coffin’s photoshoot for the magazine and should be in contact with Richie sometime soon. When Anna asks how the trip has been so far, you lie and tell her it’s been seamless and fun. 

You never told Anna about Eddie hating your guts, and you don’t even debate telling her that you’ve somehow stirred the pot between two of the band members or that you kissed the lead singer.

You’re still having a hard time convincing yourself that it was even real.

For a moment, when you woke up this morning, you thought you’d dreamt of kissing Eddie, but no dream ever feels as vivid as that.

You could feel the warmth radiating from Eddie’s body, the coolness of his rings stinging your cheeks when he placed his hands over your jaw to pull you in. The taste and smell of weed mixed in with the worn-down scent of his cologne from the day. And the kiss was so quick, and you were so sleepy you barely had enough time to memorize what his lips felt like or how the feeling of his warm breath against your upper lip sent shivers down your spine.

It left you in a daze for most of the day. Every time you remembered what had happened, your heart raced and the back of your neck heated— and you wanted to ask Eddie what the fuck that was about, but Eddie was nowhere to be found.

After breakfast, Eddie practically falls off the face of the earth. Nobody hears from or sees Eddie, and he doesn’t even show up for rehearsals, which is when Richie becomes suspicious.

“Has anybody fuckin’ seen Eddie, for the love of god?” Richie exclaims. Off to the side, the bass player plucks a deep tune in boredom. Standing center stage, Jeff looks at Richie and shakes his head before glancing at the other two members. Gareth sits behind his drum set, twirling the thick drumsticks between the knuckles of his fingers, lower jaw promptly working a piece of gum as he shrugs. His eye looks better, you note.

And that’s another thing. Gareth has been avoiding you like the plague. You didn’t talk to him much before, but now it’s as if you don’t even exist, and fuck is it making your job more complicated than it already is. How are you supposed to write about Corroded Coffin when half of the said band hates your guts?

Wayne had been spending the day at the hotel, preparing to fly back tomorrow morning, so you doubt he knows where his nephew went. Richie asked an assistant to check if Eddie was being a hermit in his room, but to nobody’s surprise, Eddie wasn’t there either.

By the time 8 o’clock rolls around, the doors to the venue have opened for fans to flood in, and Eddie is still yet to show up. You stand in front of the barricade, a perfect and obstructed view of the stage where you can see everything, including the hustle backstage. 

Wayne has opted for a seat next to the sound booth in the crowd, claiming he’d rather not spend the next few hours standing on his feet, “When you’re older, you’ll understand.” He claimed.

You enjoy the opening act, bopping along and singing to the lyrics you know, and before you know it, the band is leaving, and the clock for Corroded Coffin’s appearance is ticking— still, no word from Eddie.

You’re busy watching the stage crew set up Corroded Coffin’s display when a familiar face approaches you. “How’s the article coming along?”

James, one of the three tour photographers for Corroded Coffin. You sat next to James on day five of breakfast. James is kind, and with your little snippets of conversation, you’ve come to peg him as not exactly what you’d expect. 

James’ skin is littered with tattoos, sleeves up both arms with intricate ink slithering up his neck. You’d ask him how many tattoos he has in total, and he’d confessed that he lost count a long time ago and has now resulted in just throwing out a random number when people ask, to which you laughed.

He has jet-black curly hair that you’ve only seen at breakfast because he likes to slick it back most days, and he has piercings in each ear and one on his right eyebrow. 

He’s a character, James. Intimidating from the outside, but nothing but soft, fluffy teddy bear warmth on the inside. 

“It’s… well, it’s going. I’ve still got a bit of work to do, but so far, so good.” You nod. James smiles and nods, “I’m excited to see the final product. I won’t lie, after we spoke at breakfast, I did a little digging,” he responds. You raise your eyebrows in interest, “Digging?”

“Yeah, you know, looked at some of your past work and whatnot— which, by the way, the piece on the Cocteau Twins was insane,” He exclaims. Your eyes widen, “Really? Not many people talk about that one; I didn’t think it got around.” You laugh.

James tells you about his favorite pieces of yours he read, and he asks questions about each one of them. What your favorite interview was, who were you most excited to write about, and which of your works is your favorite piece so far.

You eventually end up talking about James and his current projects aside from the tour. He tells you about the new exhibit he’s partnering with in downtown LA. It’s an immersive piece, something new in the art world where the audience, for the first time, will get to experience art in a more tangible way. It’s more interactive and fulfilling for those who struggle to grasp the full context behind the art, and James seems more than excited about it when he tells you to stop by if you have the time.

However, before you can respond, the lights in the venue dim, and the crowd roars. 

This has always been your favorite part of a show, that moment when the lights cut off and the arena comes to life with a shared excitement. It’s exhilarating and pulls you to the edge of your seat, no matter how often you’ve seen it.

Through the smoke-filled venue and the dark atmosphere, you can see each of the boys file out onto the stage, Gareth spinning his drumsticks between his knuckles as he steps onto the drum riser while the other two grab their instruments. Three members are on stage, and you remember that Eddie has been missing in action for the entire day.

The crowd grows louder when they see the shadows of the boys on stage, screaming their names and chanting in anticipation. And as he shreds the first chords to the opening song, you worry that Eddie really might’ve skipped out on tonight’s show.

You’re happily mistaken, however, because soon you see another figure step out, and the crowd goes deafeningly loud.

Beside you, James smiles and shakes his head, “Shit never gets old,” he yells over the screams.

And your heart is racing for some reason as you watch the tall figure walk in the darkness, curly mane of hair akin to a halo as he steps up to the mic, electric guitar strapped across his body.

He leans into the mic and says a few words, words you don’t even hear due to how loud the crowd is, but you feel the gruffness and bass of his voice booming through the speakers, and you nearly mistake it for your heartbeat.

Because when the song finally starts and the stage lights go up, you’re at a loss for words.

Eddie is gorgeous, undeniably so; he always has been, and you never thought he wasn’t. The only thing that got in the way of Eddie’s beauty was his shitty attitude towards you. But this… the way Eddie looks tonight— you’re a speechless and wavering mess of mixed feelings.

Tonight, Eddie is beautiful.

His hair is down as usual, curly and healthy strands sitting pretty atop his shoulders, and he’s opted to play the show in nothing but leather pants and his usual boots.

His upper body is on full display, broad shoulders, and muscles flexing with each strum of his guitar, back muscles working overtime as he trashes along to the music. He’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat, tattoo-covered skin glistening beneath the lights, and you want nothing more than to run your hands down his chest and watch the way it smudges beneath your fingertips.

When the second song finishes, Eddie’s chest is heaving as he pauses and looks out into the crowd, scanning the rows with a lopsided, smug grin.

You can hear faint pants leaving his lips as he leans into the mic, jewelry-wrapped fingers hugging the fret of his guitar. He gazes in silence for a moment, listening to the cheers of the crowd that pull the corners of his mouth into a wider grin. And you don’t even notice the rest of the band on stage because all you see and hear is Eddie.

You hold your breath when his eyes find yours, and your knees nearly buckle at the sight of his dark eyes shining beneath smudged, black eyeliner. 

“Fuck,” he breathes with a smile, softly laughing when the crowd screams at his voice, “Do you look good tonight, New York.”

And he’s saying this and looking at you.

He is staring at you like he can see through to your soul, and it makes your head dizzy with a whirlwind of emotions and greedy wishes.

You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until Eddie finally looks away from you and into the crowd, “Are you ready to have a good time, New York?”

Eddie has never, in all his years of living, played as well as he did tonight.

He’s not sure what exactly caused this; maybe the fact that Wayne is in the crowd tonight, or perhaps because he’s still pissed with Gareth, or maybe because he can’t stop thinking about kissing you, or probably because he hates the way you and James won’t stop fucking talking to each other.

Eddie doesn’t know why it pisses him off to see you laughing and enjoying the company of James, but it does. It ticks him off to no end, and he can’t help the feeling that brews in his chest when you lean forward to hear James over the music or when James innocently squeezes your bicep to get your attention before he says something.

By the middle of the show, Eddie has had enough. He’s four shots of tequila in, and he’s feeling bold with the crowd's energy, so when his infamous guitar solo in one of the songs comes, he doesn’t stand center stage as usual.

No, Eddie makes sure to walk over and stand right in front of where you and James stand and play his solo like it’s the last time he'll ever play.

It’s a sinful view, and the crowd goes wild, the big screens zooming in on his skilled fingers dancing across the frets, the flexing of his wet torso, the flutter of his lashes when he closes his eyes and tosses his head back. His lips are slick and parted in ecstasy from the adrenaline high. 

And Eddie can feel your eyes on him. Can feel the heat of your gaze burning through every inch of his body, rolling over every movement he makes and taking him in like he’s a prized possession in a museum. He thrives off of it, and he plays harder.

When his solo ends, Eddie doesn’t bother looking at the crowd or James or his band; no, Eddie only looks at you, making sure you understand what he’s trying to say through his eyes. And for a moment, Eddie wishes James would turn the camera away from him and capture your beauty instead— because you look like an angel under red lights.

Eddie has only allowed himself small moments to appreciate the sight of you, but now, he is greedy with the upper hand he has. He takes in every piece of you; your hair, your eyes, your lips, the delicate necklace kissing the skin of your collarbones— and Eddie wants to run his tongue up the side of your neck and hear you whimper for him. Wants to dig his teeth into your skin until you keen and whine and beg him for more more more. 

The skirt you’re wearing, god, it’s fucking short, and Eddie imagines the way your skin would feel beneath his fingers, pressing into the fat of your thighs and marveling when the skin gives way to the pressure. Hot and messy fingerprints all around your hips and ribs. Teeth bearing marks across your stomach and chest. Eddie is dizzy with lust and need, and he feels like a fucking animal writhing and waiting to pounce.

Greedy, greedy, greedy.

He wants it all.

The rest of the show goes back and forth like that. Eddie catches glimpses of you and James talking and takes it upon himself to direct your attention back to the stage— back to him. Near the end, James finally focuses on his fucking job and busies himself with taking pictures instead of flirting with you, and Eddie walks off the stage feeling satisfied.

The band does their meet and greet backstage and signs a few autographs before they can do their usual post-show rituals: drinking, playing games, and making plans to go out.

Despite his love for post-show rituals, Eddie wants nothing to do with it tonight because he can only focus on you. 

You’re standing with James and a stage crew member, talking about something Eddie could care less about, given how he cuts into the conversation, “Can we talk?”

Your eyes are wide and bright when you turn to him, shocked by Eddie’s ability to even acknowledge you, and Eddie thinks about last night and how your lips felt against his. “Um… talk?”

Eddie’s still high on post-show energy, and he doesn’t like that James is standing so close to you, so he takes a leap of faith and wraps a hand around your wrist, gently tugging with a short nod, not even waiting for an answer before he turns and drags you out of the green room. 

He doesn’t know at what point his fingers traveled down your wrist to slip between your warm and gentle fingers, but he becomes hyper-aware of it as soon as you both step out into the hallway, the slam of the door echoing behind you, “Eddie, where are you taking me?”

Eddie glances back at you, fingers subconsciously squeezing yours, “Dressing room. I wanna do the interview.” He answers.

You halt at his response, heels digging into the cement floor and tugging Eddie back, “What?”

The heat of your palm is burning through Eddie’s skin, and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to stop himself from what he wants to do if he continues touching you, so he lets go. “The interview.”

You shake your head and squeeze your eyes, “No, I heard you, but… I mean,” you pause, “why? And why now? This can’t wait until—“

“Look, if you don’t want to do it now, that’s fine, but I’m not doing it any other time.” He doesn’t wait for an answer before turning around and continuing to walk towards his dressing room.

You silently watch for a moment, clearly confused by the sudden change of heart, but you nod either way and follow after him.

Eddie hardly pays any mind to you when you walk in behind him, busying himself with walking over to the bar cart and pouring himself a glass of the first bottle he sees. Glancing over his shoulder, Eddie notices you awkwardly standing near the door and snickers. “You can take a seat, sweetheart; I didn’t bring you here to, like… chew you out or something.” He jokes.

He makes you a glass despite not asking, and when he turns around, you’re now seated on the light brown couch in the middle of the room, hands fiddling in your lap as you silently wait for Eddie.

He sits on the opposite side of the couch and places the second glass on the coffee table, wordlessly nudging it toward you before leaning back in the seat and taking a long sip.

“Where’s your cute little journal?”

You’re confused.

You don’t understand the game Eddie is playing, and it’s driving you insane the longer you look at him, leaned back against the plush couch, smug smirk kissing the rim of his glass as he takes a slow sip, brown, hazy eyes glazing over your nervous figure. The sheer button-down top he now wears is fully unbuttoned to reveal his sweat-glistening torso, leather pants hug his thighs, snug and tauntingly, the button popped open and zipper pulled down to show the sinful sight of a trail of hair that leads to places you’ve been trying so desperately not to imagine. You don’t mean to stare, and you catch yourself when he shifts his hips upward to get more comfortable, the sight of his lower stomach flexing and tattoos coming alive on his skin sending shivers up your spine.

You clear your throat and turn to grab your journal out of your bag. You haven’t had the time to buy a new journal after you ruined the binds by tearing out those pages for Eddie, so you must handle the remaining structure carefully.

You take a deep breath and flip to a clean page, clicking your pen once before glancing at Eddie, “Okay, I guess we’ll… start.”

Eddie smirks, and you want nothing more than to wipe it away.

You open your mouth to ask your first question, but Eddie cuts you off, “I have a proposition,” he begins.

You look at Eddie, blinking once and thinking over if you want to indulge in whatever trick this is. You relent, “Okay?”

Eddie smiles triumphantly and leans forward to put his glass on the table, yours still untouched. He grabs the pack of cigarettes lying to the side, picking a single stick and grabbing the lighter before leaning back onto the couch, lighting the cigarette before shifting to face you. He drapes an arm across the back of the sofa, blowing out a cloud of smoke before speaking, “I get to ask you questions as well. Like a trade-off, for each question you ask, I also get to ask one.”

And it’s not as bad as you’d thought, really. Knowing Eddie, you had expected him to propose a game involving stripping or drinking of some sort, and you had prepared to immediately shut him down— but this, you can settle for this.

So, you shrug, “Okay. We can do that.”

Eddie hums in delight, taking another drag of the burning stick and nodding for you to begin.

“Okay,” you sigh, shifting to get more comfortable. In the distance, you can hear the chaos of backstage rituals happening, and you fight through the noise to focus. “We’ll start light. What made you choose music?”

Eddie twiddles the cigarette between his fingers, silently thinking, “I don’t know. I grew up with music, never went a day without it, so, in a way, I guess you could say music chose me.” He responds.

You nod, “What are some of your first memories with music?”

Eddie smiles and gazes up at the ceiling, and you watch as he seems to wander down a road of memories. “When I was younger,” he begins, “before my mom died, I remember waking up and going to the kitchen to watch her cook breakfast,” he pauses as if trying to see through the fog of time to explain it clearly.

“And she had this small green radio that sat on the window sill, and she would play all of her tapes; The Mamas and Papas, Jefferson Airplane, Sam and Dave— you know… hippie shit.” He says. “I knew Surrealistic Pillow like the back of my hand by the time I could talk, I swear.” He jokes, smiling when you softly laugh. He looks at you, a glint flashing in his eyes, and you can tell the memory brings him a joy he misses. 

And you find yourself thinking back to a few days ago, when you were walking beside Wayne with Richie and Eddie a few paces back. You remember what Wayne had told you then; you remember the tone in his voice and the careful thought he’d used behind each sentence.

“Give him time,” Wayne softly says. You glance over your shoulder and catch a glimpse of Eddie and Richie sharing a cigarette. You turn back to Wayne when he adds, “You’re a nice girl, and Eddie… Eddie doesn’t know what to do with nice.”

You dig your teeth into the inside of your cheek, chest tightening at the pained gaze in his eyes when he speaks, “He hasn’t had much of that in his life.”

“I know you don’t owe it to him, but just give him some time… he’ll come around.”

Eddie glances at your empty page before gazing back into your eyes, “You gonna write something down? I’m not repeating any of this, just so you know.”

You nod, snapping out of your daze to begin writing. Eddie patiently waits as you jot down your thoughts and conversation, burning through his cigarette and watching your every move.

You look back at him when you finish, and fight the urge to shy away when you realize he hasn’t looked away from you this entire time. “Um, okay, tell me about—” “I believe I get to ask two questions now.” Eddie cuts in with a smirk.

“Oh,” you pause, “Yeah, okay. Go ahead.”

Eddie ashes his cigarette and grabs his drink again, “When did you start writing?”

And Eddie keeps surprising you. For some reason, you thought Eddie would ask something dumb, inappropriate, or condescending— nothing of this matter. You didn’t think Eddie was interested in actually learning something about you.

You sigh as you think, “Well, the first time I ever wrote for myself was around middle school; I had a diary.” You respond, and Eddie’s eyebrows raise in interest, “It was lilac with a gold lock on the pages, and I carried the key around on my necklace because I was so afraid someone would get ahold of it.” You shake your head as Eddie laughs.

���Now, what in god’s name was little middle school Birdie writing about in her secret diary?” Eddie pries.

You scoff, “Like I’d ever tell you that.” You roll your eyes, and Eddie makes a sound of protest, “Come on, it can’t be that bad.” He pokes. You raise an eyebrow and glance at Eddie, “You’d be surprised by what goes through the mind of a twelve-year-old girl on the precipice of puberty. I’m taking those pages to the grave.”

Eddie laughs loudly at that, head tossing back with the action. You find it beautiful, the way his neck stretches and his skin molds against his bones— kissable and enticing.

“Okay, well, aside from your secretive diary. What made you choose this,” Eddie nods towards the journal in your lap.

You hum and purse your lips in thought, “I’ve always loved writing. I loved reading too, still do, and I tried writing fiction, but there’s something about writing people’s stories that just… feels good.” You respond.

“I know how easy it is to become misunderstood in this industry, so I want to hear the truth and help the audience see things from a clearer perspective. I want to help create an understanding if that makes sense.”

Eddie nods, eyes soft and smiling within his gaze. “That’s neat.” He comments, and you smile.

He sips his drink before speaking, “So, how did you end up writing for Rolling Stone Magazine?”

You laugh, “A shit ton of groveling, I’ll tell you that.”

You reach forward and pick up your drink for the first time, taking a sip before speaking, “I’d been trying to get an interview for the longest time, and then I finally just gave up for a while, but then my friend saw an opening a few months later and sent in one of my writings and… I guess they liked it enough to hire me,” You shrug.

“But,” you hold up a finger, “I spent a good year just running errands and shit for the managers; it was awful,” you admit. “So, how’d you end up with the big guys?” Eddie asks.

“Well, I wrote a hell of a paper and blew their fuckin’ minds.” You jokingly say, smirking over the rim of your glass as you take a sip. Eddie softly laughs and takes a sip of his drink as you place yours back down on the table in exchange for picking up your pen.

“My turn,” You remind him.

He nods, and you glance at your journal, thinking about what you want to ask next. “I know in the past you’ve mentioned that you don’t particularly release songs about your life, but you rather opt to tell stories within your music,” you mention, and Eddie nods in confirmation. 

“What’s the reasoning behind that?”

It’s a slightly more in-depth question, and Eddie has to take a few moments of silent pondering before he answers. “Well, for starters, I’ve always considered myself more of a storyteller. I like to create different scenarios and characters and find ways to bring them to life,” He begins.

You quietly jot down notes as you listen to him speak, “When I was in high school, I got really into Dungeons and Dragons, and I still love the game, but I guess you could say it stems from that— the storytelling aspect, I mean.” 

“But as for why I don’t release more personal songs… I don’t know; I guess I just like to keep a part of my life private to some degree. However, that doesn’t mean these made-up characters and scenarios I sing about aren’t in some way correlated to me,” He hints, and you nod in understanding.

“That’s neat.” You copy his words from earlier, and you both smile.

You and Eddie go back and forth with questions for a bit, touching base with topics like childhood, friendships, current projects, and such. It’s nice to have a decent conversation with Eddie, and for a moment you forget that you’re even doing your job because interviewing Eddie feels like any normal conversation you’d have— lighthearted, smooth, and innocent. Until—

“Alright, my turn. This one’s good,” Eddie starts.

You’re both two glasses in, and your cheeks feel warm from the drinks as you gesture for Eddie to go on. Eddie gazes at you and studies you briefly before speaking, “What’s going on with you and James?”

You blink in confusion, “James?” You question. Eddie nods, “Yeah, James. The photographer.” Eddie explains.

Your face twists in slight confusion as Eddie sips his drink, “What about him?” You ask.

Eddie laughs, “What’s up with you two? Are you guys together or something?”

And there it is. The game that Eddie’s been playing all along, revealed in all its true nature. 

Your eyebrows furrow in defense, annoyed with the sudden shift in demeanor, “Is that any of your business?” You question, and Eddie laughs, tapping his ring against the glass of his drink with a soft clink, “Sweetheart, it’s my business if I’m cutting the check.” He snickers.

You narrow your gaze at him, clearly irritated with his words. You don’t know why you ever gave him the chance. Eddie has only ever shown you his true colors, and he’s, more than once, told you that he doesn’t take you or your profession seriously. This has reminded you so.

“You don’t pay me,” you snap, “And I doubt you’ve even touched a check in the last three years.”

Eddie smirks, amused by your sudden frustration, “Maybe you have a point,” he relents, “But you still haven’t answered my question.” He points out.

You roll your eyes, “Why do you care, Eddie?”

Eddie shrugs, “I’m curious.” He smugly answers. 

“I don’t ask you who you’re fucking, do I?” A lousy attempt at dodging the question.

Eddie shrugs again, “You could if you want to, I don’t mind. I bet you’ve been curious to know anyway, haven’t you?” He replies.

You don’t like the way that makes your insides squirm with heat.

And you could tell him the truth. You could tell him the simple and honest answer that, no, nothing is going on between you and James. But as you look at Eddie sitting across the couch, you can’t find a single reason why Eddie should even care or why he should have the satisfaction of an answer. “Ask something else.” You say.

Eddie doesn’t waste a second to spit out his next question, “Did you like the kiss?”

“A different question.” “Those are my questions, princess.”

God, you don’t even know why you’re putting up with this. You could easily just get up and leave, but you hate to give Eddie any room for thinking he’s won whatever stupid battle this is. 

You shut your journal, refusing to stay another minute, going back and forth with Eddie. You stand and grab your bag, shoving your journal in before looking at Eddie and finally answering his original question, “No, nothing is going on between me and James.” You admit. And you think Eddie will leave it at that, but you're sadly mistaken.

“And the kiss?” He asks.

“What about it?” Your composure is beginning to falter and your frustration is seeping into your tone. Eddie’s eyes glint with mischief, gaze never leaving your fidgety frame as he speaks, “Did you like it?”

“No.”

A lie. A terrible one that Eddie can see right through.

You begin making your way to the door, but Eddie catches you before you can even lay a finger on the handle, turning you around to face him when he speaks, “You’re a shit liar.” He points out.

And he’s so close you can barely think straight with his overwhelming presence. You find your footing through the haze, gazing into Eddie’s eyes when you speak, “Did you ask me to come in here so you can answer my questions, or did you just want to waste my time?”

Eddie is silent for a long moment, eyes dancing between your wide and sharp gaze, darting down to your lips, the tip of his pink tongue darting out to lightly lick across his bottom lip. You can smell the smoke on his breath, reaching out to mix with your liquor-coated exhales.

“Did you like the kiss?”

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Eddie has you cornered now, pressed against a wall so tight you have no choice but to admit defeat, moving forward to press your lips against his liquor-slicked lips.

It’s hasty. Messy, greedy, drunk, and needy, and it rids your mind of all rational thought as Eddie presses himself against you. 

Eddie kisses you like it’s the last chance he’ll ever get, pressing into you so close you’d think he’s trying to jump into your skin. And the taste of Eddie is addicting.

You crave for more, and you’re hesitant to push, but Eddie understands the second he feels your tongue lick against your lips. He takes it upon himself to push his tongue into the warm, wet cavern of your mouth, and you happily let him. All clear thinking has gone out the window at this point, and you let your bag slink off your shoulder to plot onto the floor, busying yourself with sinking your fingers into the curly strands of his hair and gently tugging at the root. Eddie moans against your lips, and you pant, your brain going dizzy at the heavenly sound.

Eddie’s hands are eager and hungry as they rest against your hips, sneaking up your torso to squeeze and grab at your skin. And he hates the fact that there are so many layers of clothes between you, and he wants them gone.

His hand travels down the side of your body and digs into the thick of your thigh, dipping lower to catch the back of your knee and hitch your leg around his waist. You keen, pitching your hips forward into Eddie’s, and he moans, greedily squeezing your skin and gliding up your leg. Cool rings send shivers up your spine when he slips under the hem of your denim skirt and kneads the fat of your ass.

If breathing weren’t a necessity, you would kiss Eddie forever, but your lungs burn with the lack of air, so you find yourself pulling away with a wet gasp, “I—“ Eddie presses a kiss to your lips, cutting you off before you can speak and you whine, fingers moving to dig into the soft material of his open shirt, “Eddie, I can’t… I can’t breathe, I gotta breathe,” You pant.

Eddie laughs, and you smile as he trails his kisses down to your neck, licking against the base of your throat before sinking his teeth into the skin. You moan, whiney and loud in Eddie’s ear and he hums in appreciation, grumbling into the skin of your neck as he speaks, “I wanna fuck you.”

His teeth scrape against your pulse, and you gasp, head dropping back against the wall with a soft thud as your nails dig into the skin of Eddie’s shoulder. “What?” You hazily blink.

Eddie moves back to see you, lust-ridden eyes darting all over your face. And he looks so pretty, hair messy, shirt skewed against his lean frame, lips swollen and pink from kissing, and you want him. You want him to a dangerous degree.

He kisses you, muttering his words against your lips as he squeezes your hips and pulls you closer, “I wanna fuck you.” Eddie repeats.

You pant, opening your mouth against his and preparing to speak, but you’re interrupted by the door opening, the two of you jumping at the sudden intrusion, your hand swiftly shoving at Eddie’s body to push him away. 

And you think you might die because who better to walk in on you and Eddie practically devouring one another than fucking Jeff.

“Oh, shit, uh,” Jeff looks the other way as soon as he sees you and Eddie. You hastily pick up your bag and tug your skirt back down to a modest length from where it had ridden up to your hips.

You and Eddie are still breathing heavily from your extremities, and Eddie— fucking Eddie; he snickers when Jeff glances back at him and makes a lazy attempt at holding back a laugh. Your face and neck heat up in embarrassment as you shift in your spot, wanting nothing more than the floor to open up and swallow you whole.

“The car is here, man, let’s go,” Jeff snickers before leaving.

And truthfully, you don’t currently have the confidence to look Eddie in the eye and register what’s just happened between you two. So, you grip the strap of your bag and flee before Eddie can say or do anything.

You’re not sure how that happened, and you’re not sure why it makes your stomach twist in a way that makes you blush, but you like it. 

And you can’t believe yourself.

You can’t believe that you spent the entire drive to the hotel thinking about how Eddie’s hands felt on your body, his lips against the skin of your neck, or how you could feel him pressed against your thigh, begging to be touched.

When you shower, you try to ignore the throbbing ache between your legs when you think of those words Eddie whispered to you. You try to ignore it as you get ready for bed and ignore the toe-curling sensation of the cool hotel sheets brushing against your hardened nipples when you slip into bed. You try so hard; you really do.

But you can’t help it when you begin imagining how Eddie’s hands would feel across your chest, the light and rough feeling of his calloused fingers ghosting over your nipples to watch as you writhe beneath him. 

Fuck, you really try to ignore it.

But you can’t. It’s annoying, the way Eddie clouds your mind. And you feel like a bitch in heat when the only thing running through your mind and body is the burning desire to cum. And if you stuff your hands between your thighs and bring yourself to cum to the idea of Eddie and the feeling of him pressed against you with your name on his tongue, who’s to judge you but yourself?

Because despite everything your mind is telling you, you can’t help but find yourself wanting Eddie.

But all of that flies out the window the following day.

You’d decided to order breakfast to your room, and the hotel sends the daily newspaper with each meal, and you like to read it while sipping on a hot cup of coffee on your terrace. However, when you see the newsletter cover, you’re not sure you have much of an appetite for coffee.

A picture of Eddie from last night with a familiar red-headed girl wrapped around his arm and a caption that makes your stomach twist in knots. The caption, ‘Corroded Coffin lead singer, Eddie Munson, new girlfriend debut!” in bold and italicized letters.

And you don’t know why, but your stomach sinks. You should’ve known better.

————

part six

————

a/n: HIII YOU MADE IT TO THE END!! i know i said there would be drama drama in this part BUT it started getting too long for my liking, SOOO THE REAL DRAMA WILL COMMENCE IN PART 6 HEHE. THANK YOU FOR READING, AND AS ALWAYS, I LOVE TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS SO PLS LMK IN THE COMMENTS OR REBLOGS HOW YOU FEELLL <3

————

cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @jesssssmaybankk @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2

@mvnsonslvt @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly

[lilbitdepressed27]

Alcina Dimitrescu/Fem!Reader

Summary: One where you get bit by a spider after breaking up with your long time girlfriend and only running into her again after saving her daughter years later. Break up between you and Alcina happened when you both were 17 (You got bit by the spider at 17, you save one of Alcina's daughters at the age of 25.) she doesn't know about your powers also the suit in using in this is the armored advanced suit from the play station Spider-Man.

Warnings: angst, violence(only a little), open ending(kinda)

WC: 8.5k

Author’s note: this one has been finished for quite a while now, hope you guys enjoy:) I’m also still working on some requests don’t know when those will be done tho. I missed the tall boob lady

*

You had been spending most of your time swinging through the city. Helping where you could. Today had been great so far. You had rescued a kitten from a tree. Helped a lovey elderly woman across the busy streets of New York. Assisted the police in a car chase. Helped a little girl with her science project. And you finally got your project approved at your place of work. Which happened to be the Heisenberg Industries. You had interned there while you were in college and it had been something you had fallen in love with. Making things, building things had been something you always loved doing. It's how you build your amazing spider suit.

At the age of 25 you were set. Well mostly set. The job payed great. It was an easy job. Mostly, it didn't interfere with your other job. Even if most times it made you too busy for a social life. You only had a few contacts on your phone. One for work and the other for a great detective named Jill Valentin. She called you only when it was urgent. Or sometimes you called her when you were finished doing some ass kicking. You had made sure your phone could in no way be tracked.

You smiled as you sat at edge of a building, letting you feet dangle as you relaxed. That was until your police scanner, voiced out in your suit.

"Attention units we had reports of a possible kidnapping. Report to Greenwich ave. Victim is a 5 year old girl, red hair wearing a yellow flowered dress, suspects car is a grey sedan."

"That's close by." You jumped off the building, swinging towards the last location. There was way too many grey sedans around the area for you to know which one was the right one.

"Good thing my mask can zero in on muffled noises."

You jumped down on to the busy street. The noises in your mask leading you to an abandoned parking lot. You saw a car and the muffled noises were becoming clearer and clearer by the step.

"I want my mommy." A little girls voice cried. You moved quickly, ripping the trunk door off the car with your Spidergirl strength. At the sight of a little girl tied up your anger spiked. The tears streamed down her face. Breaking your heart in the process.

"Hey it's okay. I got you."

The little red head looked at you with wide eyes. You cut off the rope tying her wrists and ankles together.

"S-Spidey?"

"Yea it's me kiddo. You're safe now. I gotcha." She seemed to relax just a bit but she was still crying. She wrapped her arms around your neck and you picked her up from the car. "No one has called me that before. Maybe that could be your little nickname for me. How does that sound?"

"Rreally?" She hiccuped as she pulled away whipping her tears with a her hand balled up.

"Oh yea of course. It could only a nickname you could call me. What's your name that way I can give you a nickname."

"Daniela! My-My name is Daniela." She finally smiles at you. Her breathing settling just a bit, little hiccups escaping her lips.

"Mm Daniela that's a sweet name. Okay how about Lil D. SpideyDani." At the mention of SpideyDani you saw how her eyes lit up. You chuckled behind your mask as she nodded excitedly. "Okay SpideyDani how about I get you back to your-Oh no the bad men are back. Please don't let them take me." Her little cry of pure fear cut you off her breathing once again picking up.

You turned around to see a group of men coming towards you. Your hold the toddler tightening just a bit.

"Okay SpideyDani, I'm going to put you in the car with my friend spider bot. He'll protect you while I go kick some butt." The spider on your chest detached it self and climbed on top of Daniela. She giggled as you whipped her tears. The spider resting on the toddlers shoulder.

"I'll be right back. He'll keep you safe." With a nod from the toddler. You smiled behind your mask and shut the door.

"Well fellas. I gotta say I'm disappointed. A little girl? Really? Not cool."

There was a total of seven men, five of them with melee weapons and the other two with hand guns.

"Give us the kid Spider freak."

"That little brat will win us a load of money."

"Enough talk." One of the men with a gun raised it but you were faster. Shooting your webs and ripping it out of his hands. You moved quickly, webbing him up to the side of a car. Dodging a pipe that swung towards you. You ripped the the gun out of the hands of the other kidnapper and pulled him forcefully towards you and into a punch. Knocking him out cold.

Two down. Five to go.

Taking down the rest of the kidnappers was a walk in the park. Nothing you couldn't handle. Once everything was done with, you let out a huff and went back to the car. You called it in before actually getting to the car. You wanted this douche bags to pay for the trauma they caused the little girl. You opened the door and Daniela jumped into your arms, the spider going back to your chest.

"Hey it's okay SpideyDani. You're safe now." She held you tighter as you took her out of the car. Your spider bot going back on to the center of your suit.

"I want my mommy."

"I'll take you to your mommy. Hold on tight okay."

*

You had swung slow and carefully towards the police station where you heard over your police scanner that mother of the Daniela was at. Once you got there you were confused on why there were so many reporters there. There was a small barrier keeping the reporters away from the main entrance to the building. You landed gently in front of the building and made your way in. You didn't get five steps in before you heard Daniela cry out.

"MOMMY!!"

You looked up and felt your heart stop at the sight of the woman in front of you. You watched as the woman tuned around her eyes welling up with tears as she ran towards you. Her eyes that were filled with anger and concern were now filled with relief.

"Daniela!"

You put Daniela down once she started to move in your arms. You watched as the little girl ran to the woman you once called your lover. Although you had tried to burry it. Ignore the heart break this very woman that stood in front of you, had left you in. She had broken up with you, had left you with out a reason, an explanation on why. Nothing. She had just left. Seeing her now, had made all your buried feelings to resurface. She had grown into a beautiful woman, her once long hair was now just above shoulder length. Her beautiful blue eyes still shinned like they did before. Her features were just beautiful as before just mature, older.

"Thank you Spider-Girl. Thank you. Thank you. You brought my little girl back to me."

You were brought out of your thoughts as she addressed you. You cleared your throat. Feeling the lump in your throat that had started to form.

"Of course ma'am. It was the right thing to do."

At the sound of your voice, you watched as she snapped her gaze towards you. Her eyes burned into your eyes. You knew she couldn't see your eyes but it felt like she could. You saw the furrow of her eyebrows as she looked at you. She can't tell it's me right? There's no way.

"Well I'm glad little SpideyDani is safe and sound. Now I must be off." The little girl beamed at you from her mothers arms.

"Bye bye Spidey."

You chuckled as you waved goodbye. But before you could actually leave a hand shot out to you. Grabbing the inside of your elbow. You looked down at the hand and felt your heart break all over again at the sight of a wedding ring.

"I'm sorry ma'am but I really must be off." And like that you left. Hoping to never run into her again. Even if part of you wanted to see her again. It you knew, with this lifestyle it was dangerous.

*

You couldn't believe it. Alcina was just as beautiful as the last day you saw her. Maybe even more beautiful if that was possible. You hadn't seen or even heard from her in almost eight years and a half. The only thing you knew after the break up (it was more of her just leaving with out a word) was that she had moved away. And that was it. Never to be seen or heard from, up until now. You even tried to call her but your number never got through. Your messages and voicemails left unread and unheard. Going as far as trying to reach her little sister, Donna or her little brother Salvatore. But it was no use.

"Y/n there you are. I just wanted to say that your recent project has made quite a difference already." You beamed at your boss who came into  your work station. You shook away the thoughts of your ex lover and directed your attention to your boss. You had known him for almost six years now. Even though you didn't really know much of his personal life he was still like a great mentor for you.

"The stocks are shooting up, which means more money for the company, more money for you and most importantly more money for me. But seriously, great work kid. The city thanks you. Now I have a dinner date with the family. You are free to go for the day. Celebrate kid. You deserve it." Karl patted your back as he smiled down at you. He knew from the moment you stepped foot into his building you'd do great things. And the years you have worked for him, you haven't let him down.

"Thanks sir. I already have more ideas I'd like to show you." You pulled out your notebook but was stopped by his hand.

"I said take the day kid, I'd love to see your ideas but after you get some rest and put that big brain of yours to rest. Now go before you make me late for my dinner. And for the last time it's Karl."

"Okay have fun with your family dinner."

"Doubt it. My sister is coming and I haven't really seen her for quite awhile. Well, I'll see you later kid."

*

She sat at the dinner table with her daughters, mother, sister, her sister's daughter and her younger brother. They were just now waiting for her older brother. Karl. She had been close with all her siblings except him. Even when she was a child. Karl had spent most of his time with their father. Who lived in Romania. Her parents had divorced when she was young. So she hardly ever saw Karl. Up until recently when she had grown somewhat close to her brother.

But as she sat at the table with her family. Her thoughts drifted to Y/n. Her past lover. The only person she ever loved. Who she still loved. Even after all these years. She had never regretted something more than when she had to leave you. When she had to break your heart in order to keep her own family safe. It was something she regrets. It was something she'll regret to the day she'll die.

But her mind drifted to the hero of New York. She never really thought of her. She knew her daughters loved Spider-Girl. She knew Spider-Girl had been around for quite a while know. But she never really thought about it until now. That voice. She could have recognized it anywhere. But it had been so long. But that voice.

Looking back when the spider first appeared had been around the same time you had started acting strange. You had become more secretive. You always had new bruises and cuts on you. You had always blamed it on your clumsiness. And her being the idiot she was. She had believed you. She had known you for five years before you started dating. She knew how clumsy you were. There was no reason to doubt you. But looking back she should have paid attention more.

Could you be Spider-Girl?

She almost wanted to laugh at how insane it sounded. Cause there was no chance. She was delusional.

"Sorry I'm late, had some business to take care of. Hello girls."

"Hello uncle Karl." Were heard from the four toddlers at the table. The older man smiled and greeted his siblings and mother.

"Uncle Karl I met Spidey!"

Karl looked at his youngest niece and smiled. He still felt anger for what his niece went through. If it weren't for Spider-Girl, he didn't know where Daniela would be right now. The men that had taken her were going to be in jail for a long time. He made sure of it. But so did his sister. Alcina had made sure they never saw light as free men again.

"Oh really. That's awesome kiddo. I heard she's super fast."

"Oh yea uncle Karl super super fast. She was kicking butt while her spider buddy was with me and protecting me." Daniela gushed, her trauma of being kidnapped being over looked by her experience with Spider-Girl. Daniela had told her sisters on how Spider-Girl had taken her swinging and how spider buddy had kept her entertained while you kicked butt.

"I can't believe those-Mother please. Not in front of the children." Alcina cut off her mother. Knowing very well how angry Miranda was when she heard of what happened to Daniela. Her mother took a deep breath to calm herself and nodded.

The waiter showed up to the table and took everyone's order. The four children kept on talking about Spider-Girl. While the adults spoke about Donna's garden center, Salvatore about his job as a doctor, Alcina with her wine business and Karl with his business.

"Oh yeah business was great. A worker of mine has the brain of a genius I swear she's coming up with inventions after inventions. With everything that she comes up with I think I'm gonna have to change the name to hers." He said proudly. He felt like a proud father any time he got the chance to speak of you. In his forty years of living he never met a worker like you. You were more than just a employee to him at this point.

"Oh yes I'm so proud of you and your company Karl. Everyone I'm so proud of everyone." The older woman gushed about her kids. The adults around the tabled smiled at their mother.

Alcina was trying to focus on her little brother Salvatore talk, she really was but her mind kept on drifting to you. She wondered what you were doing now. You were twenty five now. Eight full years without seeing you, hearing your voice. The times you two would cuddle in her bed. After all these years she was still in love with you. Your voice was something that was engraved in her mind and heart.

"Mommy when can I meet Spider-Girl?" Alcina looked towards her middle child and smiled. Her two eldest girls have been wanting to meet Spider-Girl since Daniela had been saved by the hero.

"I don't kn-I actually have someone who works for me that knows Spider-Girl." Karl said gathering the attention of all his nieces. He couldn't help but laugh at the sight of four hopeful and pleading looks.

"Please uncle Karl. Please. Please." The four children pleaded.

"Oh I don't know, your moms have told me that you've been bad girls. Not putting your toys away. Not finishing your homework-WWHAT?!"

Now the five adults laughed at the tiny outraged faces looking at their mothers. "That's not true! Uncle Karl I put all my toys away before we came, right mama." The tiny five year old said. Donna chuckled towards her daughter.

"That's right sweetheart."

"I'll have to ask my friend Y/n if it's okay with Spider-Girl. I hear she's really busy."

At the sound of your name leaving her older brothers lips her head snapped towards him and then her mother. Who was already looking at her.

Miranda had known about you since you and Alcina were kids. She saw how in love her daughter was with you. She saw it in everything her daughter did. The smile Alcina would have every morning, knowing that you would always send her daughter a good morning text. The way her daughter would talk about you. The love her daughters eyes held any time she looked at you.

She had always liked you for her daughter.

But the moment her ex husband came back into the picture was when everything came crashing down. She had tried everything to save her daughter from her own father. But everything had happened too fast.

She saw the happiness leave her daughters eyes the moment she was told the news.

Thankfully, now her daughter was divorced. Getting away from that man after everything. Being able to take her granddaughters away from the crazed man had been such a blessing. From the moment they were taken from their homes and taken back to Romania, they fought tooth and nail. But she had forgotten how powerful her ex husband truly was. So they had to bid their time.

After the birth of Salvatore, she herself had gotten away from her ex husband. Successfully getting away from that man, the moment Karl had turned eighteen she had helped him escape. And when she was fit to travel she divorced her ex husband and never looked back. When her ex husband died it had been a blessing in disguise. That had truly helped them in getting away from Alcina's husband. With her ex husband no longer alive the deal between her ex husband and ex son in law was no more.

Her family was no longer in danger between the two mafia bosses.

"Y/n? As in Y/n Y/ln?" Alcina her voice cracking just bit. Her eyes shinned with hopefulness and eagerness.

Karl looked at his younger sister confused. He had no clue Alcina knew you. He knew you were way too awkward to talk to any attractive lady. And he wasn't blind his sister may have been a brat but she was an attractive woman. There was no way you knew his sister. He's seen how you react around anyone really. If it wasn't about business you'd always keep to yourself. Which is why he'd always be the one to present your work to the public. It was never you.

"Uh yea. I didn't know you knew Y/n. She works for me. A great kid. She has a bright future ahead of her. That's for sure. I'll talk to her girls. I'm sure she can pull some strings but no promises okay."

The girls excitedly giggled with each other.

Alcina was left thinking about you. How she was coming closer to seeing you, after so long she was going to see you again.

**

"Hey aunt May, hey uncle Ben. Sorry I haven't visited you guys. It's been busy. My project got accepted and it's been doing the city good. I have a few other projects in line. Hopefully they do just as well. Um you're not gonna believe who I saw today." You sat on the grass after setting down the flowers at each grave. Ever since losing your aunt may last year, you had been throwing your self into work. Spider work and your actual paying job.

"I saw Alcina, she's just as gorgeous as the last time I saw her. Even more gorgeous now if that's possible. Is it bad that I want to talk to her? I mean she left me, she's married now. Has a little girl." You felt your eyes fill with tears. The emptiness in your heart grew. Feeling stupid and foolish for thinking that maybe one day Alcina would come back to you.

"She's happy. She's moved on. I think it's about time I do it to. Right? Well I-" At the sound of sirens blaring near by, you knew it was time to work. The city never slept, it was New York after all. You stood up from your position, looking down at the two grave stones. "I know I'll be careful aunt may. I'll be back soon." You put on your mask and went to work.

*

You were a little sore the following day. Going into work a little later than usual. You had called Karl of course, he understood and said you could come in at any time. So it was a little later than usual when you did arrive at work. Making your way to your lab, but before you could you were stopped.

"Y/n Mr.Heisenberg wants you to go to his office." Karl's assistant spoke from her desk.

"Okay thanks Ethan."

*

Walking into the office you had not been prepared to see four little girls in the office.

"Oh are you Y/n?!" A little girl with her black hair spoke. You swallowed the lump in your throat. The little girl was a spitting imagine of Alcina. So Alcina has two little girls.

"Uh yes, I am."

"Y/n do you know Spidergirl? My uncle Karl said you do." A girl with dirty blonde hair said as she now stood next to the little girl that looked like Alcina. But then another girl approached, this one you did recognize. Daniela.

"Yes. I've spoken to her a few times." You couldn't help but chuckle at the excitement on the four little girls.

"Can we meet her please, please!"

You couldn't help be startled just a bit at how the four spoke simultaneously. A laugh rang out in the room. You looked away from the four girls to see your boss standing there.

"Sorry Y/n, I may have mentioned that you knew Spidergirl last night, they begged me to bring them in with me today." The only reason he knew you knew Spidergirl was because he had walked into your lab at a late hour only to see you upgrading Spidergirl's suit. It was no wonder Spidergirl's suit and equipment were so unique. It was cause you built them for the hero. He understood why you had to keep it a secret. Spidergirl's enemies would go after you if they knew. And since he cared deeply about you and your safety he kept his mouth shut.

"Well I'm only supposed to call her when it's an emergency." You tried to escape this situation. It's not that you didn't want to, but you didn't really want to be known for being "friends" with Spidergirl.

"Pleaseplease."

But you were always a sucker for her pout. It was even worse now seeing it on three little girls faces. Well turns out Alcina has three girls.

She must be really happy. 

"Okay I'll call her, but if she's busy. You girls have to understand okay?"

The girls squealed in excitement as they nodded.

*

You walked into your bosses office again through the balcony window but this time dressed in your spider suit. You had left to make the "phone call".

"Spidergirl!" The four little girls cheered and ran to you.

"Hi guys!" This time you came prepared with a slight voice changer. Not wanting Karl to recognize your voice. The girls didn't mind as they were too happy to see spider-girl. "Well I can't stay long but my friend said that she wanted to meet some people. And Spidey-Dani, happy to see you again buddy."

The beaming smile on Daniela was the absolute cutest. "I'm super happy to see you to Spidey. This is my sisters Bela and Cassandra, this is my cousin Angie."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Spider-girl."

The girls giggled the smiles never whipping away from their faces. "We know Spider-girl."

You also let out a short laugh, "As much as I would love to stay here and chat with you guys I-" And as if god was hearing you the loud sound of police sirens was heard. "Duty calls. It was nice to meet you."

And like that you were gone.

*

Working back in your lab was all you needed. It was quiet, the only sound being from what ever you working on and the low sound of the music being heard. It was the great atmosphere that you just always got work done. The sound of the doors being slid open was heard.

"Mr.Heisenberg, I'm not even close to being finished, and this is like the fifth time you've checked up on me. It's not gonna get done any quicker." You didn't even look away from your work. You continued your work on a device that could help with the patients that suffered from a loss of a limb. The device could help them with the pain and make them feel like their missing limb was still there without the pain.

It was still a work in progress.

When you didn't hear anything in return, you knew you weren't in danger. Seeing as your Spidey senses didn't go off. You set your equipment down and turned around. Freezing in your seat at who you saw. A part of you, a small part, the hurt part, hated her. Hated that she moved on so easily. Hated that she threw you away like you were nothing. Like the love you shared was nothing. Yet it wasn't love, was it? Not for her. You had been so sure she wasn't going to try to see you. That she wouldn't want to see the person she left behind all those years ago. But yet here she was, in all her glory.

"The lab is closed. You can't be in here." You finally found your voice. Swallowing the lump and hoping your face held no emotions. You didn't want to see her (yes you did) didn't want to hear about how happy she was with her daughters and husband. You turned back around to face your table.

"Y/n, please. I just want to talk-Well I can't I'm working on the clock. Please leave the same way you came in." You said your voice never wavering. You couldn't allow her back in. Not just because of what she did to you, but also due to what you did on your free time. Being Spidergirl had its sacrifices. Huge sacrifices. You had no friends. No love life....No family left. No one to put in danger. Not after losing Aunt May. You wouldn't allow

Your self to get attached only to lose them.

Aunt May's death was your fault.

"Y/n I know you're hurt, you have every right to be. But if you would just allow me to explain my-Mrs.Dimitrescu, is that still your last name? I'm busy. There's nothing to talk about. Now please. Leave me alone."

Alcina stood there with barely concealed tears as she looked at the back of your head. She didn't know what she was going to expect but it's wasn't this. She was foolish to think that you would hear her out. The hurt in your eyes when they first laid on her. You had not been surprised to see her. Meaning you had already known she was in town.

She wasn't going to give up.

She'd be damned.

*

After a long day at the lab you finally clocked out. Leaving the building the regular way and not the window. The city was quiet petty crimes, crimes that police could handle. So you had continued your work on your project. Deciding to ignore the little encounter with Alcina. You could ignore it, till it really was the only thing you could think of. Pushing it to the back of your mind.

"Y/n."

So much for pushing it to the back of your mind. You tried to ignore the voice. The voice that still sent shivers down your spine. After all these years. The love you had for her was still there.

"Y/n please. Just give me ten minutes of your time."

"Well I wasn't even worth that much to you. Not a call, text, nothing. So why would I give you ten minutes of my time. I don't want to talk Alcina. Not now. Not ever. You moved on. I moved on. The end. There's nothing to talk about." You were bitter. But you were also doing what needed to be done. She had kids. Children that needed her. Being in your life would only bring danger and pain to her. And you didn't want that.

"Go back to pretending I don't exist. You're good at doing that." With that you walked away. Trying your best to ignore the heart broken look she casted your way. You were doing this for her. To keep her safe.

*

Alcina had cried a few times. She cried when you both were only thirteen and you had fallen off a tree and broken your arm after returning a baby bird back to its nest. She cried when you first confessed your love to her at the age of fifteen. She cried when you first said I love you. She cried and cried when she was forced out of her home by her father without much as a say. Cried she was forced to leave you with no chance of a goodbye. Cried when she was forced to marry a random man. Cried when she had to bare his children.

Now she was crying for the love she truly lost. You didn't even want to see her. The closed off look in your eyes was hard to miss. She knew she broke your trust. Broke your heart. But you had always been one to give someone at least a chance to explain.

"Mother told me how you know Y/n." Karl saw the heart ache in his sisters eyes when she got home. He always knew his father was greedy selfish bastard. He had left his father's side the moment he turned eighteen. Refusing to ever see that man. The moment he left. He never saw him again. Didn't even bother going to his funeral when the old man died a year ago. He had helped Alcina get out of the marriage she had been forced in. That man had not been a good husband and even worse dad to his nieces. He had done a few things to that man to make him sign the divorce papers and give up his rights as the father to the girls.

He would have never thought that the kid, sweet, shy Y/n had his sister like this.

"What's it to you Karl?" She drank her wine as she looked out her window in her office at home.

"Y/n's closed off Alcina. She keeps everyone at arms length and there's a reason for that." He sat back in his chair. Remembering what happened.

Alcina turned her chair back to Karl. "What do you mean?" The worry clear in her voice.

"A year ago, during those attacks by that crazed doctor. He attacked a F.E.A.S.T center. a center Y/n's aunt was in, so was Y/n. Aunt May didn't make it. Y/n was lucky to have survived. And a few others but Aunt May...She's been alone for the past year. She hardly talks to anyone. Barely talks to me. And she has no friends no living family relatives."

Alcina took everything in. Her heart breaking for you. "Wait, what about her uncle?"

"Oh he was killed in a store robbery, four years ago."

Alcina felt her heart break even more. You were alone. Spent the past almost five years alone. It was no wonder you were so closed off. Everyone left you, given aunt may and uncle Ben weren't by choice. It hadn't been her choice either. But you didn't know that.

She needed to fix this.

*

You sat on the cold floor, fresh flowers sat in front of the two grave stones. Never had you felt so alone. You missed your uncle and aunt like crazy. Wishing on every star you could have one more moment with them. You wished you could hear your uncle and aunt give you the advice you so desperately needed.

You didn't notice you were crying till you felt the familiar warm arms wrap themselves around your shoulders bringing your back close to her chest. Causing you to cry even more. Everything rushing out. The hold on you grew tighter.

"I'm sorry draga. Words could not express how sorry I am."

Her voice was right by your ear. Soft and gentle words ringing in your ears. Her voice always tended to calm you down. You moved to get out of her hold but you felt her tighten her hold.

"Please don't. Don't go. Not without letting me explain what happened. Please let me explain and then you can go, I won't stop you."

With a sigh, you gave a slight nod. You didn't realize how much you missed being in her arms. Her hugs had always been so warm.

"I was taken from my home by my father. He had forced me and my mother along with my siblings out and took us back to Romania in the same night. If I had a choice I would have stayed. I would have gone to you. He made me leave everything. I wasn't even able to pack a bag. My father forced me to marry this filthy man thing, I had no choice. It took me too long to get out of that situation. It helped that my sorry excuse of a father died of a sudden heart attack last year. Divorced my husband the same day with the help of Karl."

You took everything in. You didn't know much of her father onto that he had separated from mother Miranda when her Donna was a baby. Donna was the youngest out of the four of them.

Finally gathering yourself you pulled away from her embrace, standing up as you also helped her up. You cleared your throat as you looked down at your joined hands. The hand that once had an engagement ring along with a wedding ring was now bare. You couldn't. You can't.

So you let go of her hand. "I'm sorry you had to go through that Alcina. It's terrible. I'm..." You weren't sure what you were supposed to say. You felt horrible for what she went through. You love alcina with all your heart. She was the only woman you ever really loved. But the fear of her being put in danger just by talking to you was enough to put halt to anything. You let out a deep breath.

Hands gently cupped your face making you look into her beautiful blue eyes. Those eyes that looked at you like you were both still seventeen. Making you feel even more guilty. "I still love you Y/n. More than anyone. I've never stopped. You have always been my other half."

You pulled away from her, "I'm sorry. I—I don't love you anymore. I've moved on. This is goodbye." You didn't give her a chance to speak. You turned and walked away. You would rather be alone than to put her in danger.

She has kids to think about.

*

Being Spider girl could not be harder at times like this. It has been a week since you last spoke to Alcina. Taking the the long awaited vacation time you saved up. With the approval of Karl of course. He had always said you deserved a break. And this time you actually listened.

With no worry about your actual paying job you focused more on being Spidergirl. It was hard. You could wipe the heart break on Alcina's face.

It was the right thing to do.

"All units, prisoners form the raft are on the loose. Reports of Electro, Rhino, Scorpion, Vulture, Martin are on the loose."

With that, you were back to work. Moving quickly towards the raft. You had stopped them before. So doing it now should be a cake walk.

*

It was in fact not a cake walk. Never did you have to face five of your arch enemies at the same time. Your body hurt. You were bruising in places you couldn't see. Bloodied. Most of your suit was torn. But thankfully your mask was still in tact. You were able to stop rhino. Thankfully. Scorpion and Vulture were a bit more difficult cause they had decided to work together. But with your own powers and smartness you stopped them as well. Electro, you threw his ass in the water and placing a power dampener around his neck, you were the only one that would be able to take it off.

Martin had escaped the moment he had the chance.

"Can you hear me Spidergirl."

The chilling voice of your old friend Otto Octavius. His voice sounding throughout your mask.

"You can hear me. I have something of yours. Why don't you meet me. Meet me where it all began."

*

Your mind raced, trying to figure out what he could possibly have. The old building where you used to work for a brief time before your internship with Heisenberg. Otto was an old friend. Someone who gave you a shot. But he had been so driven by revenge.

The building was empty, there was no signs of anyone being in the building. When your Spidey senses went off you dodged the mechanical arm that shot your way. You fought fast and hard. But these tentacle arms were faster and stronger. They were clearly upgraded as well.

"Oh now spider, what's wrong? Have you been slacking since the last time I saw you.?" His arms held down your body holding it tightly preventing you from moving.

"Otto, this isn't who yo-Shut up, don't you ever get tired of repeating the same thing every single time. Now look who I have here. Our guest."

One arm moved to turn on the lights, your heart halting at who you saw tied to a chair. Mouth covered with tape. "Let her go! She has nothi-That's where you're wrong."

Alcina didn't know what was going on, why she was here. She had remembered leaving Karl's building feeling dejected. He had informed her that you had taken a temporary vacation. She couldn't just let you go. Not when you were clearly suffering. She could see it your eyes. Your eyes never lied, and you were in clear pain. She'll make it right. But before she could get to her car she had been taken.

Now she was here watching this old man fighting with Spidergirl. The frightening thought that the girl behind that mask was you was pushed back to the front of her mind. Seeing Spidergirl get punched and kicked down. The suit had been torn and ripped when she had arrived.

"She has everything to do with this. Due to the fact that you care about her. Ugh why don't we just show her so she understands."

The mask was torn off Spidergirl. The familiar y/hc hair flowed down her face as Spidergirl tried to hide her face.

"Don't be shy now." Otto grabbed a fist full of hair forcefully pulling your head back. You heard the muffled gasp. You looked into the blue eyes they held so much concern and anger. You weren't sure if that anger was directed at you or Otto.

"Y/n here has tired very hard to keep her identity a secret. Tried hard not to trust the wrong person. What did that cost you last time y/n? Aunt May? How is she?"

You tried hard to escape the arms but they only tightened. Making it hard for you to breathe. Your eyes burned with tears, "oh are you gonna cry? Your friend here hasn't been in the city for a month and her daughter has already been kidnapped. Why you may ask? Well let me answer. You! It's always your fault Y/n. That's why everyone leaves you."

Alcina succeeded in cutting the rope trying her hands together. Mentally thanking Karl for the small knife in her bracelet. She didn't know how to help you, but she needed to make sure you didn't believe the words coming from that psychopath. She saw the bright light behind the man's neck. She could take good guess that, that was what controlled the arms.

With how distracted the ex doctor was, it was a lot easier to sneak up to the doctor.

You tried to not look at Alcina. To not give her away as Otto kept on talking. You tried to keep his attention on you. Including his arms.

"It was your fault Otto. Heisenberg Industries did everything you couldn't do. Save lives. Change lives. You were too...pathetic. Too weak to take the chances you had." One of the arms wrapped around your neck. One arm was still wrapped around your body as his two other arms held him up.

With all his attention on you, it was enough for Alcina to sneak up behind him.

"You dare disrespect me Y/LN!!?" He had become red in face from how angry he was. His arm tighten around your chest. A silent chocked yell of pain. You felt two of your ribs cracking. "After everything you-No!" You fell hard to the ground along with Otto. His four arms also making him useless with the chip not working.

Alcina was quick to punch the old man and living him unconscious. Rushing to you when she heard you groan. "Y/n! You have to stay still." Your face was covered in scratches, blood and already forming bruises. Your suit was torn, parts of your body were just as cut and bruised. She had been forced to watch how Spidergirl had been brutally beaten by those villains. To now know for certain that it was her Y/n. You under that mask...seeing your eyes refusing to look at her, but she could always read you well. Those y/ec eyes that were red from being chocked but also red from holding in tears.

"You have to go." You bit your lip in pain as you moved to stand up. Refusing to look at her. You tried pushing away her hands as you painfully picked up your mask. Putting it back on as it still did its job at keeping your identity a secret.

You thanked the gods above as the cops stormed the building. "Spidergirl, thank you for the help, we got it from here." Not letting Alcina get to you as you were soon leaving alcina in the safety of the police officers. Otto being taken by the swat team.

*

You were in a great amount of pain. You were in your underwear and sports bra, trying your best to clean your wounds up. But you couldn't. You couldn't reach the wound on your back, you were on floor of your bathroom with a first aid kit open. The supplies scattered on the floor.

Alcina now knew your deepest secret. She hadn't been back for a month and she now knew. You remembered the look on her face when Otto had taken off your mask. The shock, disbelief in her eyes. You had looked away the moment your eyes connected to her blue ones. You had tried so hard to make sure no one knew, Otto was the only one to know and look how that turned out. Otto had become a different person and got lucky in finding out.

You knew (or hoped at least) Alcina wasn't like that. Granted you haven't seen Alcina in years.

A sound coming from outside the bathroom caught your attention. You didn't have the energy to fight off anyone. The sound of heels clicked frantic, like the intruder was looking for something. You groaned as you tried to stand up, arms shaking. But it had been no use. Your arms had become completely jelly.

The door to the bathroom was pushed open.

*

Alcina had found her own way to find you. It had been easy, it was just her luck that you  still lived in your aunt Mays home. The house had been just as the same as she last saw it, just with a few new additions to it. Thankfully you still hid the spare key in the flower pot.

Right after she had given her statement to the police officers she had left straight to you.

The house had its own little differences, but it still brought her the same warmth it did before. Pictures of aunt May and Uncle Ben still hung around the living room. She didn't have time to look at every single new picture that hung the walls. Not when the image of your being badly hurt was still fresh in her mind.

Your room had a bathroom connected to it. And her feet took her directly to the room she spent so many hours in. Finding the torn spider suit on the floor the blood droplets leading to the bathroom. Finding you on the floor of the bathroom, in only your undergarments. Bloody bandages scattered on the floor as first aid kit laid open.

She was quick to get to you. Ignoring your weak attempts to push her away. She had her own experience on bandaging up wounds. Being forced to marry a mafia boss, she had also been forced to help his friends when they were wounded.

Cleaning you up was slow, you had needed stitches on many of the deep cuts. "No, I'll heal. Just takes time." Your voice had sounded raspy, it was the first thing you've said to her since she's got here.

Her hands hovered over the deepest wound of them all the needle only inches away. "Are you current?"

A low groan escaped your lips, "yes, can you just cover it with a bandage." She did as you asked once she was completely finished she moved to help you up. Careful not to touch any of your wounds. She lead you back to your bed, helping you lay down.

"He was wrong, Y/n." She whispered. She knew you wouldn't believe her. But she had to try and she will continue to tell you till you believed her. "Aunt May wouldn't have left you if she was giving the choice. You know that. Same with Uncle Ben."

You felt your eyes fill with tears at the mention of aunt May. "I had the cure, the cure to fix her. But if she had taken it, there would have been more deaths. I was going to give it to her." You squeezed your eyes tight remembering clearly how weak your aunt had gotten. She had gotten weak so fast. "She didn't let me. Refused the cure. I let her die. It was my fault, she-Wouldn't want you to blame yourself. It wasn't your fault Y/n."

Her fingers gently ran through your hair. Something she had always done to help you center yourself. Feeling the moment your shoulders dropped as you silently cried. "I'll keep telling you till you accept it. I'm not leaving your side Y/n, no matter how hard you true to push me away. I'm here to stay."

Fear gripped your heart like never before. The fear of something happening to Alcina or her daughters. The guilt would be too much, it would-"Stop. I can take care of myself. I can hold my own."

She saw the conflict in your eyes. She couldn't imagine how lonely you had been, how you refused to let anyone in. In fear of being held responsible for the harm one might go through. In fear of the guilt growing.

"I'm not leaving your side, that's a promise."

*

When you woke the next morning, it the ache and soreness in your muscles had doubled before they could lower. It was a pain you were used to. The room was empty but you could faintly hear noises down stairs. The memory of alcina being in your house was pushed to the front of your mind.

Her promise to never leave your side.

Getting up from your bed had been bit of a struggle. Your bathroom had been cleaned the bandages. The blood that once stained the tiles cleaned, the bathroom no longer looking like their had been a small blood bath. You made slow work in freshening up. You felt your body releasing its tension as you showered.

The healing process was always different, after long fights especially a fight with a bad guy with enhanced suits or sometimes powers. Healing always last up to a day. Most of the scratches you had healed but deeper wounds were still there and painful. Bruises were slowly fading.

Stepping out of your bathroom into your room once clothes in loose t shirt and a pair of shorts. To see Alcina coming into the same room with a tray of food.

"Oh you're awake. You should have let me help you." Alcina had gotten up early to cook you some food, you had been deeply asleep. Your wounds had slowly healed. She had been amazed how your smaller not so deep cuts had already healed. The bruises had slowly faded. But the more severe wounds had seemed to take a bit longer.

With Alcina quick to your side, you had let her help you. Leading you down to the kitchen. "You didn't have to stay Alcina. You have bigger responsibilities n—Stop. My mother is taking care of my little girls. I'm where I'm supposed to be."

Alcina had a lot to prove. Prove to you that she wouldn't leave your side. That no matter what happened, her place was to be by your side.

*

:)

[kakaluvsha]

Put your left hand on the bible tell a lie .

sunday ♡ fem!reader. fwb. college au. just a quick drabble :p. 18+ mdni. is this angst?

Being friends with someone who always depends on you is not the best thing ever. Like Sunday, if he is ever late to class, or purposely absent for any lecture, he would always provoke you into being with him too. And that, your reputation are worser than before. Teacher's complaining about your absence, compelling you to be present at least for 3 days in one week. You ended up being the targeted student instead of Sunday, he somehow gets away with his lame excuse everyday.

And that, you sometimes thank him for it.

Sunday loves to bring you over to his dorms when its your 'absence' day. He would do his usual stuff to you, and it always comes unexpected. He would be standing right in front of the door welcoming you in and then boom you're being embraced by him, your legs wrapped around his waist while he brings you to the couch.

"Faster.. be a good girl, lick them all off."

Sunday loves to ask you to suck him off. It lasted for like 5 minutes max. Because Sunday apparently is weak to your lips and how gentle you are with his cock, the way you bob your head and makes the tip of his dick hits your throat literally made him threw his head back on the couch.

And once he finally reached his climax and spurted strings of cum to your face, he would wipe them off your face with his thumb and forces you to suck his thumb right after. He wouldn't let you give him the pleasures alone, so in return he'll be eating your pussy out like he hasn't eat any meal from the morning.

He loves hearing your whimpers and how you softly whines his name, the way you push his head further into your folds. He loves the harshness in you. And when he's not satisfied, he'd enter his digits into your hole, gently scissoring his way in and out making you slightly widening your legs even more. And while he does that, his thumb constantly rubs your clit, or even kitten licks them to help you reach to the edge.

"Thats it, cum for me yeah?"

All those sensational moments, unforgettable experience, you both would end up reported by one of his roommates. Sometimes it would be them walking into you both casually making out, or even you bouncing on his dick. It has been three times you got caught and reported to the principal. And thankfully the principal doesn't really make either one of you change classes or dorms. He would just warn you both about it, and if it happens again then you're done for.

Sunday would be getting out of the problems by making such excuses, or making you say that he has a terrible stomach pain that he couldn't get any muscle up. For him, you're just his companion that helps him get away of everything. And for you, you'd expect more but to his childish behaviour, it changes how you view him completely.

Since almost everybody in the campus knows about your secret little meeting everytime you both are absent together, randoms would always ask you when you pass by;

"Are you dating that Sunday guy?"

"Seriously out of all people you chose Sunday."

"You should be out of his way, he's just using you."

Thoughts? Of course you'd overthink it. Then when this happens, you would never interact with Sunday ever since. Hearing the word 'he's just using you' makes your heart shatter. What if he does? You both aren't in any commitment whatsoever. Just, friends. And that makes you think sometimes, "does friends know each other's taste?"

"Just tell them you and i are not a thing."

Sunday's words were far more sharp than a knife itself, and it hits through your soul. He's right. Maybe if you lie to everyone then it would calm the situation down and your case are closed. Even though you didn't wanna do it either, staying with him is way more worse than to lie to others.

And so you did, everybody received your information eventually.

Not until Sunday comes back to you, apologising on his knees like a dog.

"Please y/n, you're the only one that would do anything for me."

He's totally right again. And instead of trying to build your own peace, you loved his 'no meaning' presence so much, you started to get yourself involved in his life again. And the cycle repeats, this time no one has to find out anything because you both found a secret room where nobody will find you both naked, pressed onto each other.

Is this nonsense? Yes i'm yapping about nonsense idk what i wrote but ngfhdhshdgdnhd sundaysundaysundaysundaysundaysunday

[hollowblxxd]

[ AU / Speculation for me ] [ I CAN FIX IT .... NOT FOR YOU ]

Okay so because I am a man who hates to see things end badly Im here writing a sort of... fanfiction for myself that cleanse up the mess of Mouthwashing. No disrespect to the whole game but this is my thoughts Some warning for mature subjects and obviously possible spoilers for Mouthwashing!

Basically I thought about the idea of Jimmy being dealt with before he could complete his plan against the crew and it all stems from the idea that there's actually a secret cryopod on the ship. We see only 4 in the main part but there's 5 people on board, which even if you want to argue Pony Express doesn't give a shit, I think its somewhat reasonable to assume that should there be an emergency there would in fact be enough cryopods for everyone to get into so that a potential crew can be saved. This secret cryopod is obviously ONLY used in the case of an emergency and is ONLY known to exist by the captain. Aka Curly. Curly realizes that Jimmy is getting too unhinged and crossing far more lines than hes ever seen him do before. Though Curly fears and cares for his unfortunately stupidly manipulative friend, he realizes he has to take action against Jimmy to ensure no harm comes to the remaining crew. So Curly basically tricks Jimmy into thinking that he's going to be revealing a secret to Jimmy, something only "a captain and his co-pilot can know" before taking Jimmy to this secret cryopod. Since technically having a "potential psychological unsound person" on board DOES class as an emergency and with no "brig" available for holding, Jimmy is put in there. His last moments is Curly's well deserved "betrayal." Thus now Jimmy is a festering sleeping mess inside the cryo-chamber, grinding thru a horrific nightmare where he gets his revenge on Curly, where he gets control of the ship while spiralling further and further into outright INSANITY in some jacob's ladder style purgatory as his mental state is forever stuck "coping" with his anger, his guilt, his fear, his hatred, his selfishness and so on and so forth. Basically everything that happens in the events of Mouthwashing is a already crazy's man nightmare-ish delusion as he awaits judgement day, aka the time when he leaves the pod and has to face the justice he deserves. Meanwhile with Jimmy put away in hold, the crew get a chance to breath. Jimmy overbearing nature eases everyone tension and though it was a hard decision it was a well made one. Its not all perfect however because Anya takes all of this quite hard feeling guilty that it got this far. She does attempt to end her life which she is luckily saved from by Curly and the rest of the crew. Since Anya is now sick, Daisuke has to take over acting as Nurse, following Curly and Anya instructions on how to make this all easier. Anya is safe around Daisuke and his bright optimistic personality is really fitting for a nurse, never once does she feel ashamed or scared and for once feels a sense of relief and freedom. Her commenting that Daisuke would make a good nurse which Daisuke takes to heart since he still obviously struggling to find "what hes good at" Curly temporarily takes up the role of being an engineer with Swansea since, Curly as the lovely captain SHOULD know his ship inside and out too and hey, even as a bonus, he may even show Swansea how to steer a ship. This ends up with Curly and Swansea having a good man to man bond. In the end, Anya recovered free from her abuse and regains her personality and happiness, Daisuke discovers his passion for medical work happily taking college recommendation from Anya, Swansea learns a bit about riding a ship and thinks "hey I could probably do good as a space trucker" and Curly also detached himself from the parasite that is Jimmy who constantly been trying to drag him down! So there, I fixed it. But not for him.

[gallusrostromegalus]

How old's everyone by the time canon bleach rolls around?

Well that's an interesting question that I have devoted way too much thought to.

Most people in soul society age at the normal pace of one year per year, so they only have One Age, but even a tiny excess of spiritual energy can make some age much slower, and in Seireitei, which is full of Spiritually Potent People, most people have two ages- Calendar and Living Age. Calendar is how many years someone has existed, Living is approximately what developmental age they're at. Most Shinigami age at about one year for every 2-5 Lived, with average "died of natural causes and not in the line of duty" lifespans coming to 200-400 years. Power Level has a HEAVY Inverse correlation to aging, but once you hit the power levels associated with Seated officers and captains, things get Weird. Also fatal. Very few captains have died of Natural Causes.

But re: Everyone's ages in June 2000, when the series starts under the cut:

Karakura Gang:

The Kids are not dead yet, so not Subject to the extended lifepsans yet, but I did age everyone up a bit- Ichigo and his Human Friends are all Juniors in High school- age 17... ish.

Ichigo's 18th birthday occurs a couple weeks after he meets Rukia. He was held back from starting Kindergarten for a year because he was too short to reach the drinking fountains.

Chad was tall and his parents were both working full time so his mom persuaded his school to let him in early, so Chad only had his 17th birthday the month before he meets Rukia.

Kon: CA: 132 (9 years in his body) LA: 3, but in cat years, so really more like 22 in human years. An grad student in charge of a pack of teenagers.

Rukia: A Member of the Karakura Gang by association (i.e. my staging notes), Rukia is CA: 73 and LA: 20. She and Renji entered the academy when they were CA:25 and LA: 16. Like many high-powered shinigami, her rate of aging is slowing as she accumulates power, so she will likely live to see at least 500 (unless something happens)

Renji: See: Rukia. Rukia is eight months older than Renji and NEVER lets him forget it.

Kisuke Urahara: CA: 328 LA: 32.4545454545- Urahara is aging at one year for every 11 lived which pleases him because at least once a century his ages will line up and he'll have a straight shot of numbers and that's CLEARLY an excuse to have a MEGA birthday party and give him extra presents! He'll be 333 AND 33 in 2005, so Ichigo should start planning his surprise party!

Yoruichi Shihoin: CA: 329 LA: 28 Yoruichi is 365 days older than Kisuke (He was born in 1672) a leap year) and NEVER lets him forget it.

Isshin Shiba: CA: UUUH- LA: UUUUUUUH- Isshin Shiba was born to the Shiba Clan in 1846, was 154 when he vanished in 1980, appears to be in his mid-forties now, and can only actually REMEMBER the last 20 years of his life with any Clarity. The battle with White left his soul so damaged that when he fused with Masaki, he lost all his spiritual powers and forgot damn near everything- he remembers his given name, the name and face of Kaien Shiba but not how he knows him, that shinigami and hollows exist... but when he overheard Ryuken Ishida lying to the hospital staff that this was his friend from medical school who had been in a terrible car accident, he believed him, and assumed he WAS a doctor that had been in a terrible accident. Masaki was just as frightened of the Shinigami coming after the Quincy. While she could keep her relatives at bay, she couldn't fool the shinigami, so she asked the others to make sure Isshin never tried to return to spirit world... and they went along with it. As far as Isshin knows, Urahara was a guy he worked for as a teenager who helped him set up shop as a doctor after the accident. Yoruichi really is someone he used to be on the intramural volleyball team with back in college. Shinji is some guy who knew his parents, and decided to stay a friend of the family even after after they died in the accident. He and Masaki were married in a beautiful ceremony some weeks ago... Shame they lost all the pictures... Ichigo's promotion to Substitute Shinigami and the confrontation about "You used to be a CAPTAIN?? Why didn't you warn me and the twins about anything???" is one HELL of a shock for him.

Soul Society:

Genryusai Shigekuni Yamamoto: CA: 2,146 LA: 75 He was enjoying a Long Prime Middle Age until his Divorce in 1196, at which point he went bald, went gray and lost a significant amount of his muscle mass in under a decade, and has looked like an Old Man since.

Chojiro Sasakibe: CA: 1,358 LA: 66 (debated). Chojiro was barely 100 years old when he turned up at Yamamoto's Post Officer Self-Defense Dojo and refused to leave. His Lived Age is a secret known only to Unohana- the debate rages because Sasakibe was born with his Silver Fox hair, and with that removed, shows very little signs of aging. He insists he "-Just keep myself very well." and refuses to elaborate. He has a standing agreement with the SWA that his LA over various years may be revealed after he dies, so they may let people lay bets, on the condition that they give him a percentage when laid to support his Black Tea Habit.

---

Soi Fon: CA: 201 LA: 29 Soi Fon has genetically terrific skin and if her mother is any indication, she'll look like a twentysomething until she hits menopause. THEN she'll look like a Silver Fox.

Marechiyo Omaeda: CA: 102 LA: 24 Omaeda has only been Lieutenant for 14 years, taking over the position early after his father (the previous 2nd Division lieutenant) had an extremely unexpected stroke. He's recovering well, but doesn't want to return because he's so proud of Marechiyo.

---

Ichimaru Gin: CA:DEBATABLE, but at least 357 LA: 21 Gin has several days that *could* count as his "Birthday" but he's existed in his current body for as long as Rangiku has known him.

Rojuro "Rose" Otoribashi: CA: 312 LA: 37 Rose was promoted to captain a bare 2 years ago when TBTP happens, and is considered Young for a captain. In terms of Living Age, he's one of the oldest Visored.

Izuru Kira: CA: 89 LA: 23 He was a bit older than Rukia and Renji in CA and LA when he entered the Academy. He could have entered sooner but he was the sole caregiver for both his parents, who died premature deaths of chronic illnesses.

---

Retsu Unohana: CA: 804 LA: "As old as my tongue and a little older than my teeth." According to the official records, Retsu Unohana enrolled in Shin'o Academy in 1198, and when asked her age, said "I became as I am last year" Which the intake officer interpreted to mean that she died and appeared as an adult in Spirit World in 1197, and she has absolutely failed to correct that misconception. Or update the public records regarding her age.

Yachiru Unohana: CA 1,497 LA: 37 To her credit, Unohana DID die when she was 17 and appeared in the afterlife at the age she died at. Then she barely aged by the time Yamamoto recruited her in 998. She served as Kenpachi of the 11th Divisison for 199 years, until her battle with an as-yet-unnamed young man in 1197. Shortly after her 200th year as Kenpachi passed, she came to terms with the fact she was no longer the fighter she was, and fell in battle to her lieutenant. With that, "Yachiru" Unohana died, and the following day she enrolled in the academy under the name Retsu to study medicine.

Isane Koetetsu: CA: 282 LA: 28 Isane and her sister Kiyone are unusual for Shinigami in that the Koetesu clan has some of the slowest-aging shinigami in it, and the slowed aging STARTS as infants. Isane couldn't even enroll in Shin'o Academy until her 100th birthday, and even then she needed special dispensation to let what was functionally a 10-year old take college classes.

Hanataro Yamada: CA: 141 LA: 23 Hanataro is the younger brother of Former 4th div Lieutenant Seinosuke Yamada, who now runs the Seireitei Medical Center i.e. The Rich Bitch Hospital. Hanataro entered the academy at a very young age like Isane and graduated with honors, but people tend to compare him to his more accomplished older brother, which both of them think is Unfair seeing as Seinosuke is a whole 112 years older than him. Hanatarou started in the 4th division at the tender age of 42/14, and some of the other medics decided to prank the lieutenant's baby brother by sending him to do the initial medical checkup of newly-appointed 11th division captain Zaraki. When he failed to return for six hours, Seinosuke went into a panicked rage and ran to the 11th, ready to make Zaraki the shortest-serving captain ever if need be, only to discover Hanataro patiently vaccinating and enthusiastic Zaraki for EVERYTHING, a process that was taking a while because Zaraki's spiritual pressure kept breaking the needles. Hanataro has been the 11th Division Pocket Medic ever since, to the detriment of Seinosuke's blood pressure. Zaraki encouraged his interest in Toxicology by bringing him dozens of venomous snakes to milk while on field expeditions, also much to the detriment of Seinosuke's blood pressure.

---

Sosuke Aizen: CA: 432 LA: 47 Aizen was born an identical twin, but was the only brother to inherit any spiritual powers. The boy's mother was caught and killed by an enraged shopkeep stealing food to feed a half-starving Sosuke when they were young children. The boys managed to get jobs in another city working at a candy store, and did so well that the owner left the store to them when he retired. Sosuke's marketing talents and Sosato's culinary skills made "My Brother's Candy" a wild success, and soon they were opening franchise stores, and became popular minor celebrities in their district. Sosuke even married and had children- and grand children, and was an active member of his district government and merchants council, personally opening up several schools and water treatment facilities. Then, shortly after he and Sosato celebrated their 88th birthday, tragedy struck. There was a massive flood that lead to a massive crop failure that lead to a massive disease outbreak, which lead to major political upheaval, which lead to Sosuke and his brother having to flee their home. Unfortunately, Sosato dearly loved his brother, and when the hail of arrows came down on them from the soldiers pursing the civilians, Sosato decided that he was near the end of his life anyway, while Sosuke- still functionally in his 20's- had so much to live for, and put himself between his brother and the onslaught. And so Sosuke Aizen went from Revered Councilor, Celebrated Candymaker, beloved Great-grandfather and Twin to an Exile and the sole survivor of his name. He joined the Shinigami, determined to make the Soul Society a better place where what happened to him would never happen again- only to discover that he was at the mercy of a corrupt and incompetent government, and worse, an apparently uncaring God. Until one night when he had a dream- all the pieces of his study of Kido came together and he realized there WAS a way to fix all this- He just had to become God. With that, Gin slithered away into the night and deep into the far districts, so he could assume a human form and forge an identity Aizen wouldn't question when they met back up again.

Shinji Hirako: CA: 412 LA: 31 Shinji genuinely thought he could get away with impersonating a high schooler to spy on Ichigo- after all, he still looked like he was what, 22? With the right clothes and some recent slang- "Why is there some creepy old guy wearing the school uniform?" Ichigo asks his friends the second he sees Shinji. "He looks like some kind of weird hipster who's trying to relive his youth." Sighs Mizurio. "-Or a really deluded pervert who thinks he can sneak into the locker room." says Tatsuki, cracking her knuckles. "He doesn't look THAT old-" Keigo protests, and there is the briefest glimmer of hope for Shinji's Ego. "-Maybe he's some kind of super-senior who got held back a bunch because he's dumb as a brick." Shinji crumples to the ground, defeated by the direct hits to his insecurities.

Hinamori Momo: CA: 66 LA: 26 Momo has an extreme case of babyface but is secretly ripped under her uniform and well on her way to MILFdom from the waist down. The first time Hiyori sees her in shorts is a psychological and spiritual awakening.

Hiyori Sarugaki: CA: 126 LA: 20 Hiyori is the youngest Living Age and slowest-aging visored. She gets mad about her youthful appearance but also uses it to get children's discounts at theme parks.

---

Byakuya Kuchiki: CA: 181 LA: 26 Byakuya was married quite young, and Widowed soon after. He's still in his prime, and exceptionally hale for a Kuchiki- Despite the exceptional spiritual power of the clan, the centuries of inbreeding have given them severe health issues and very short lifespans for their power. Byakuya's grandfather Ginrei only lived to 486, and his father Sojun died at 200 from Hemophillia. Byakuya is still working up the nerve to tell Rukia that she will likely outlive him by a considerable margin, and the fact that Rukia hasn't got a nibling to spoil was His medical problem, not Hisana's.

---

Sajin Komamura: CA: 712 LA: 22 Komamura is somehow both Older AND Younger than everyone thinks he is, and that's not even getting into the "Wait, is that in human years or wolf years?" Debacle. When Yamamoto met Sajin for the first time in the 1400's he was extremely impressed with the giant warriors skill and courage, and before Sajin had a chance to greet him properly, asked the warrior to join his Academy. "I- I'm really old but I'm actually eight." came the voice of a small boy from behind the helmet and Yamamoto had to go stand with his face pressed into the wall for a minute.

Love Aikawa: CA:345 LA:33 Love Aikawa is one of the few shinigami who came into his spiritual powers so fast that he did NOT have a creer before becoming a Shinigami.

Tetsuzaemon Iba: CA: 154 LA: 30 Testsuzaemon was still a small boy when Komamura was appointed to the third seat of the first division, and got to know his mother Chikane Iba. Chikane worked extremely hard, but held Yamamoto in high regard, and Komamura in similar regard by extension. So now Tetsuzaemon is lieutenant to a man he still secretly thinks of as his "Favorite Babysitter".

---

Shunsui Kyoraku: CA: 856 LA: 48 Shunsui was forced to join the academy before his 100th birthday by his noble family because they had not actually planned on actually having a third son survive to adulthood and didn't really know what to do with him. Both Shunsui and Ukitake are old enough to remember when Unohana was still Yachiru, and Shut The Fuck Up about that fact.

Nanao Ise: CA: 141 LA: 28 When she first arrives in Seireitei, Yachiru Kusajishi is LA Eight, and quickly makes friends with Nanao, who is the other little girl close to her age with spiritual powers: "You're my baby sister now, but you'll be my Big sister sooner than later." Yachiru explained. "What do you mean?" Nanao blinked at her. "You're what, Living Age Seven, right?" Yachiru asked, squinting at her. "Yeah, but I'm really Forty-One!" Nanao insisted. It bothered her when people refused to take her seriously because of her age. "Right. I'm like Living Age Eight, so I'm your big sister. But I'm actually Four hundred and six." "…What?" Nanao gaped. "but, but that means you must be aging at…" She frowned, trying to do long division in her head. "-I age about one year for every fifty lived, yeah." "You- oh god." Nanao realized. "You outlive everyone you know." "Not everyone! Ken-chan and I are both aging at the same pace." Yachiru explained, wobbling a bit as she walked the log over the creek. "I guess I'm lucky- there aren't that many of us who age this slow so most of us don't have anybody who's really a 'life-long' companion, and I might be only one with a parent that's got a similar lifespan!" She grinned. "I age at about one for five, so in- ...in less than ten years I'll be older than you." Nanao hummed with concern. "Yep! But until then, you have to do everything your Big Sister says!" Yachiru grinned.

Lisa Yadomaru: CA: 427 LA: 36 Even though they're not REMOTELY related, Lisa bonded very strongly to Nanao when she was Shunsui's lieutenant. This causes some dispute with Yachiru when she returns to Soul Society because according to yachiru, Nanao is her Little Big Sister, owing to the difference in CA, to therefore Lisa is her Big-Big Little Sister, and Lisa thinks she doesn't have to support Yachiru's Candy Habit.

---

Kaname Tousen: Calendar age: 499 LA: 32 After the events of the Winter War, during which Kaname turned 500, Kaname disputes that he is only 350, because he spent the last 150 years under Aizen's Curse and "-You call that living?" Everyone (except Sajin) regularly forgets when Kaname's birthday is because he doesn't celebrate it- it was also his sister Kakiyo's birthday and he hasn't really felt like 'celebrating' since she was murdered, and Ichigo is the first person to REALLY understand his feelings on the matter, his own mother dyind so close to his birthday and how visiting her Memorial wasn't exactly a celebration, but it wasn't exactly mourning either.

Shuuhei Hisagi: CA:119 LA: 27 Renji entered the Academy the year Shuuhei was due to Graduate and still thinks of Shuuhei as his "Senpai". Shuuhei entered the academy the same year Rangiku was due to graduate, and still thinks of her as his "Senpai". Renji once called Rangiku his "Grand-Senpai" She and Shuuhei both beat him with shoes about it.

Kensei Muguruma: CA:469 LA: 29 Kensei supports Kaname's declaration that he's only 350 because finding out Kaname is older than him brings up all the insecurities Kensei developed from being the MUCH younger brother to five sisters, and he can't handle being "The Baby" again.

Mashiro Kuna: CA: 506 LA: 25 It took 47 rounds of Janken with Yachiru for Mashiro to finally be the first to get to three victories and declare herself The Biggest Sister. She also saw Kensei's meltdown about Kaname being older than him and is quietly holding onto the fact she's older than both of them until the moment it will cause her beloved captain the maximum amount of Psychological Damage.

---

Rangiku Matsumoto: CA: 357 LA: 29 Rangiku measures her Calendar Age from the date she appeared in Soul Society at age 14, which is an accepted practice, but sometimes people want to add their years in the living world as well. Rangiku supports Kaname's claim to be 350 because they let HER knock 14 years off her CA for an even more arbitrary reason, and also it means she doesn't have to get him a belated 500th Birthday gift for another 150 years.

Toshiro Hitsugaya: CA: 60 LA: 12 Hitsugaya is FAR AND AWAY the youngest Shinigami to achieve a seated officer's position by any age, and this was 100% done as a political maneuver by Yamamoto. Hitsugaya is no Slouch- he graduated salutatorian of his class and is the youngest person ever to achieve Bankai, but Yamamoto slapped him into the lieutenant's position 20 years ago (Hitsugaya graduated within weeks of Isshin Shiba's Disappearance) SPECIFICALLY to put Rangiku between him and any unscrupulous noble houses looking to forcibly adopt him/marry him to a spare heir/straight-up kidnap Hitsugaya to prop up their failing genetic lines. One of the clans tried it anyway and the resulting smoking crater where the clan compound used to be put the fear of Haineko into everyone and has so far discouraged further attempts.

---

Kenpachi Zaraki: CA: 1,477* LA: 42 Like Gin, Zaraki has several dates that could count as the start of his existence, but when asked how old he was at the first moon-viewing party he went to- "...How d'ya guys measure that?" Zaraki asked, studying Shunsui with his good eye in a way that made the hair on the back of his neck prickle. "Uh- well, for most people, it's when you were Born in Soul Society, but if you died and appeared here it's the day you first existed in Soul Society." he explained, feeling like he was missing an important dimension to the question. "Oh! In that case I'm- wait, shit. What day is it today?" "It's November 18th." Unohana smiled. "Ah, fuck! With all the chaos I forgot-!" Zaraki laughed. "Turned 1,377 last Monday." The assembled Shinigami all stared blanky, save for Unohana, who appeared to be trying to not laugh into her cup. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure I heard that correctly..?" Jushiro asked, entirely sure he had. "One Thousand Three Hundred Seventy-Seven." Zaraki repeated slowly, grin cracking across his face. "-Can't say I've done as good a job lookin' after myself as Sasakibe here though." "I- good heavens! The only person you're younger than is Yamamoto himself!" Aizen exclaimed, eyes wide behind his glasses. Zaraki frowned at that for a moment and then nodded. "...If you say so." Unohana made a small snuffling noise as she tried to not snort sake up her nose laughing. "How old are YOU, Mr. Glasses?" Yachiru asked. "Hm? Oh, I'm 332! And how old are y-" Aizen began to reply before he was interrupted by Yachiru jabbing her finger into the tip of his nose, cackling. "HAH! you're seventy- uh- seventy four years younger than me! You're a little baby man!" She clapped her hands with glee. "Unohana-sama? Are you alright?" Ukitake asked as the chief medic coughed suddenly. "I'm having a great time!" She wheezed, eyes watering from accidentally inhaling her drink.

Yachiru Kusajishi: CA: 506 LA: 10 Yachiru was Very Loved by her parents. Zaraki tells her this. When he found her, he found her in an otherwise abandoned house, with her parents, who had obviously died protecting her from the late-winter cold snap. She was still in her mother and father's arms when he came to investigate her cries. Her parents were wearing kimono that had the bottom third cut off, just above their knees, even though it was the middle of winter. She was wearing a double-layered baby Kimono made of the fabric they had cut off, to make sure she stayed warm. He took her into the nearest village, in hopes someone there could nurse her and tell him what her name was. She was lucky- there was a woman nursing her own daughter who agreed to take on her as well. But the Village elder hung his head in shame- he knew the couple the vagrant described- they lived far up the mountain, and only went by the name "Kusajishi", the name of the district, as was the style of many poor and illiterate farmers. They only came down from their farm once or twice a year to sell the special herbs they grew up there- the elder had seen the woman pregnant, but they had not come down to tell him the girl's name for the village records. So that day, the vagrant became Kenpachi Zaraki, and gave to her the name Yachiru as any parent should name their child, and the name Kusajishi, after the parents that loved her so. She only ever calls her adopted father Ken-chan, and is the only person who is allowed to call him that, because a parent should be called something special by their child. In deference to her parent's sacrifice, she does not call him "father". That was another man, who died for her. Zaraki does not lie to Yachiru, ever. Everything he told her about how they met is true. He has omitted one detail from the story, however. Her parents died from the cold snap because they had to be at least eighty, and not blessed with spiritual power like her. She had outlived her parents as an infant. And after speaking to the village elder about how, to his shame, he'd never managed to ask the little girl's name, even since he was a little boy, and failed to send anyone up there to check on the family, The vagrant with no name sat near the fire in the village hall, holding the little girl with no name. He thought about how terribly lonely it was, to not have a name. and how lucky he was that he had a mother who also had an extremely long lifespan that was able to live through raising him, and that he could still visit and speak to. and how unlucky this little girl was, that she did not. "How d'ya get a name?" the vagrant asked the village elder. "Well, here you just tell me what your name is, and I write it down in the village records." the elder said, watching him with curiosity. "...if I tell you a name, will you show me how to write it?" He asked, voice barely above a whisper. "Of course." The elder nodded. The vagrant was silent for a while. "Then her name is Yachiru Kusajishi." Said the vagrant. "...And yours?" The elder asked, picking up the record book and inkstone. "Mine?" the vagrant asked. "You're giving her a name because she hasn't got anyone else to do it, aren't you?" The elder asked, gaze steady. "If you name something, it's your responsibility forever, and you're going to have to be responsible for yourself if you're going to be responsible for her." The Vagrant considered this for a while. "My name-" he started and stopped, throat clicking like he was literally choking on the words. "-My name for her is Kenpachi Zaraki."

---

Mayuri Kurotsuichi: CA: 132 LA: 267 Mayuri is the only shinigami aging faster than the expected rate. This is because he escaped from Hell, and Hell would very much like to get his ass back there ASAP.

Nemuri Kurotsuichi: CA: 20 LA: 20 Nemu has been twenty for twenty years now, ever since she was pulled from the goo of her incubation tube by her father Mayuri, and will be 20 for the foreseeable future. The static lack of aging is something Mayuri hopes to fix in future drafts- Nemu is the seventh Nemuri, and the most successful one so far- She's the second Nemuri to actually make it out of her incubation tube, and the first to survive more than a year, but Nemuri Hachigo is already developing in the basement of the 12th in case something happens to her. The knowledge of her 'Little Sister' is something that brings Nemu comfort, like already knowing what you're going to be reincarnated as. "That's really fucked up." Says Uryuu Ishida in the rubble of Las Noches as she puts his intestines back inside his thorax where they belong. He's on a lot of drugs he'd like to know less about. "-It's also kind of cute. In a away. but really fucked up."

Kirio Hikifune: CA: 617 LA: 35 Kirio is one of a handful of people in on Unohana's double identity, but would NEVER betray her beloved Senpai's personal information! She served under Unohana in the fourth and developed her flesh-to-food technique with Unohana's help.

Tama Nikuya: CA: 1,477 LA: 26 Despite being the same age as Zaraki and Unohana and was aging at the same slow rate, the process that turned her into a Puca also caused her to go into bio-hell-fuckery that has effectively stopped her from aging at all. Or rather, she IS aging but every time she dies, she reappears as the LA age she was when she underwent The Flesh Change. She says the process is not infinite- she WILL eventually run out of spare lives, and if she manages to live long enough to die of old age in this body, she will NOT respawn at all. Also- it HURTS! She does die, which hurts, and comes back, which hurts EVEN MORE, and each time she comes back, she's confronted with the prospect of either outling all her friends or putting them through a similar hell to stay together. All in all, DO NOT ATTEMPT. I am speaking to you specifically, Kisuke. Akon Akon: CA: 119 LA: 27 Akon only has the one name but the archives don't like that so he uses it Twice. He was imprisoned without trial in the Maggot's nest for being part Yokai when he was a small child, and sprung to work in R&D By Mayuri shortly after Urahara's disappearence. He's friends with Yachiru and Nanao because there weren't hat many kids in the social circles of the Gotei-13's upper ranks, and all three of them shared a mutual interest in the Dinosaurs that were being discovered at the time. He's friends with Shuuhei because he was forced to take Remedial "if you work in the 12th instead of just R&D you need to actually know how to be a shinigami" classes the same year Shuuhei was accepted to the academy and they were dorm mates. Akon intermittendly draws weird one-panel cartoons for the Seireitei bulletin under a pen name, often about strange scientific jokes and on one notable occasion, bovine anthropological artifacts.

---

Jushiro Ukitake: CA: 857 LA: 44 Ukitake is genuinely unsure if, when or HOW he will die, given that he is host to a Divine Being. Once that particular cat is out of the bag, it gives him something to commiserate about with Tama. Already, Shunsui is starting to outpace his age- is he doomed to bury his friend? or will circumstance force Mimihagi to consume him entirely? Mimihagi is sympathetic- the Left Hand of God is also not sure what this fusion entails for him- it's possible that if Jushiro dies by any other means besides Mimihagi consuming him, that Mimihagi will die with him, and neither is sure what kind of impact that might have on the universe at large. Still, if it weren't for Mimihagi's intervention, Jushiro wouldn't have this time at all, and Mimihagi will never have had these experiences, so neither regrets the choice they made, regardless of how it ends.

Hachigen Ushoda: CA: 278 LA: 32. Hachigen is appearing under the 13th Division because the Kido Corps got absorbed into the 13th while he was away. Hachi consistently fools people into thinking he's way older than he actually is because he has to tailor-make all his clothes for his massive frame, so why NOT go all the way and make something Special for all this effort?

...this post is already three miles long, I'll do the Arrancar and Quincy next.

[mercurygguk]

head over skates · jjk ; part ii.

··· SUMMARY; jeon jungkook is the captain of the hockey team and one of the biggest fuckboys on campus. you happen to have known him for as long as you can remember but he is not who he used to be and you simply can’t stand it.

so what happens when you’re suddenly stuck doing a project with him for three weeks?

SERIES MASTERLIST · # TAG · MOOD BOARDS · PLAYLIST

PAIRING; hockey player!jungkook x f. reader

GENRE; fwb au, childhood friends to enemies to lovers au, college au

WORDCOUNT; 1,074

RATING; 18+

WARNINGS; swearing

a/n; part 2 os hockey jk!!! i hope you're enjoying this little series so far <3 please feel free to share your thoughts in the comments or in an ask! ty for reading muah

The Nook – the campus café – is bustling with students and professors when you step inside later in the afternoon. You just finished your psychology class and texted Jihyo, asking where she was. She told you to meet her at the café for late lunch at which your stomach grumbled as soon as you read her text. That granola bar you ate earlier will only get you so far before hunger returns. Your stomach grumbles again as you step closer to the counter, quickly glancing over the menu before ordering a chicken salad and an iced coffee. 

Once ready, you grab it and try to spot Jihyo inside the busy café. When you finally spot her, you frown softly – she’s sitting in the far corner with Namjoon. They really didn’t waste any time getting to work on the project. You try your best to ignore the jealousy bubbling inside of you as you make your way to their table. 

When class had ended almost immediately after the pairs were revealed, you had packed up your stuff and left the room before Jungkook could start a conversation. When Jihyo texted you about your sudden disappearance, you were already sitting in your seat in your next class. You told her you only had a 5 minute gap between classes and had to hurry there to make it – she seemed to believe your excuse and didn’t ask any further questions.

Phew.

“Hey,” she greets you with a warm smile when you sit down next to her. “How was class?”

“Boring but at least I had Minhyuk to keep me entertained,” you grumble, voice dripping with sarcasm as you unbox your salad to pour dressing over it. Before you can take your first bite, you look up at Namjoon with your best attempt of pleading puppy eyes, “Namjoon, please switch partners with me. Please!”

Both he and Jihyo look rather surprised at your sudden outburst as you stuff your face with a big bite of salad and chicken, looking more upset than ever as you wait for a response to your pleading request.

“I- um, who was your partner again?” He asks instead of just agreeing like you had hoped he would.

You sigh deeply, “... Jungkook.”

The mention of your childhood friend turned ex-friend has Namjoon shaking his head and laughing dryly as if you just told a really bad joke. You stare at him with a glare, waiting impatiently, internally praying and hoping he’ll say yes if you look miserable enough.

“I’m sorry, ____, but no, I don’t think so.”

You groan, the hints of a whine under it, “why not? You know Jihyo and I always do projects together-”

He shrugs, “as much as I feel bad for you, it’s still a no. Jungkook isn’t exactly the type of guy you wanna pair up with for projects.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, “yeah, no shit. Why do you think I’m asking?”

Jihyo places a hand on your shoulder as if to calm you down. Looking at it from an outside point of view, you probably need it. 

“Come on, ____,” she chuckles, “I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you think.”

She’s probably right – Jungkook isn’t a bad guy or anything, that much you know. He’s just that guy who cut you out of his life as soon as popularity grabbed a hold of him and made him prioritize everyone else over you. You’ve never been about that popular lifestyle so when he first gained attention from the pretty girls and the cool boys in high school, you knew the expiration date for your friendship was nearing. And as someone who hates holding grudges, you’ve been holding this exact grudge for half a decade with no plans of ending it any time soon.

“But it’s Jungkook,” you groan in frustration, “you know our history.”

She nods, “yes, I do. But maybe it’s time for both of you to move past that? It’s been 5 years already, ____.”

Despite knowing she’s right, you let out a fake laugh and return your focus to your salad. As much as you’d like to move past it, you just can’t. Jungkook really hurt you and it seems he doesn’t care so why would you spend your time and energy on him? Why should you forgive him for leaving you behind without so much as an explanation for his asshole behavior?

“Yeah, over my dead body.”

Jihyo sighs deeply in defeat while Namjoon stifles a laugh. You shoot them both an annoyed look before taking another big bite of your salad. You should’ve known Namjoon wouldn’t switch partners with you – he’s crushing on your best friend, for Christ’s sake. But still, it was worth a shot.

The three of you finish lunch in the matter of 30 minutes before you have to be at yet another class. They share their next class and you’re on your own once again, dragging yourself to class.

Luckily, this class is the last one for today.

Once you locate the classroom and find a seat, you get settled and ready for the class to start. You’re browsing around on your laptop when a text suddenly appears in the right upper corner of the screen. The fact that you receive a text isn’t that exciting or out of place but the person sending it certainly is. 

And as if one text wasn’t enough, a row of them ticks in after the first one.

[2:24 PM] Jeon🤬👊🏼: hey, idk if this is still your number

[2:24 PM] Jeon🤬👊🏼: if it is, hey ;)

[2:24 PM] Jeon🤬👊🏼: wanna meet up sometime this week to work on the project? 

You stare at the texts for a minute, racking your brain for all the reasons why Jeon Jungkook still has your number after all these years and then you wonder why you still have his. Also, since when does Jeon Jungkook care about doing a project? You didn’t exactly peg him to be the one encouraging school work. Although, it seems you’re taking too long to reply because he sends you another text before you have the chance to think of a reply.

This guy certainly doesn’t fear the concept of double texting. Or triple texting. No, he shamelessly texted you four times – probably without second guessing it too.

[2:25 PM] Jeon🤬👊🏼: I’ll bring iced Americano :)) if you still drink it, that is

You’re simply speechless.

all rights reserved © mercurygguk · tumblr