#well whatever there are unresolved FEELINGS in this man that I hold in my head. painfully

[plugnuts]

Grabs outlaw Tweek by the scruff this man can hold SO many fckin feelings in him

[lila-lou]

✨His true fate - Part 32/?✨

Summary: Jensen hasn't been happy for years. But it seems almost impossible for him to escape. After another nasty argument between him and his wife, he decides to visit his ´former´ best friend for his birthday. Back in Austin, an encounter awaits him that will turn his life completely upside down.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Language, age gap, a little drama, Fluff

Word Count: 8726

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

As the evening settled in, you and Jensen were cuddled up on the couch, a cozy blanket draped over both of you while a movie played softly in the background. Jensen’s arm was wrapped around you, and you rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. It was one of those peaceful moments, the kind where the outside world felt miles away. But then, like clockwork, Jensen’s phone rang again.

He groaned softly, his grip on you tightening for a second in frustration. “For the love of—”, he muttered under his breath, shifting slightly to grab the phone from the coffee table. “This damn thing hasn’t stopped all day”.

You sat up a little, watching as he glanced at the screen. His irritated expression softened, though, when he saw the caller ID. It was his old friend, the one who had been helping with the house. He sighed and gave you an apologetic smile before answering.

“Hey, man. What’s up?”, Jensen said, trying to keep his tone casual, though you could sense the shift in his posture. Something about this call had his attention.

You watched as the conversation unfolded, Jensen’s brows furrowing slightly, the easy-going tone he had started with now replaced by something more serious. He leaned forward a bit, his elbow resting on his knee, his other hand running through his hair as he listened.

“Yeah, I get it”, Jensen said, his voice quieter now. “I know you’ve been holding onto it for me, but… yeah, end of next week? That soon?”.

You could hear bits and pieces of the conversation, and even though you couldn’t make out every word, the tension in the air was unmistakable. Jensen’s friend was telling him that he couldn’t keep holding the house for much longer. There was a deadline now, and it seemed like other potential buyers were lining up.

Jensen exhaled heavily, his fingers rubbing his forehead as he nodded along with whatever his friend was saying. “Yeah, I know, I just… things are complicated right now, you know? I’m trying to make it work, but…”.

You reached out, resting your hand on his back, offering silent support as he struggled with the weight of the decision.

Jensen looked over at you, his eyes soft but filled with frustration. “Alright, man. Thanks for letting me know. I’ll figure it out”, he said finally before hanging up the phone.

He dropped the phone onto the coffee table and leaned back against the couch, letting out a long breath. “Well, that’s that”, he mumbled, running a hand through his hair again.

“What’s going on?”, you asked gently, though you had a pretty good idea based on what you’d overheard.

Jensen sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before meeting yours. “The house”, he said, voice tinged with frustration. “He´s been holding it for me, but… he can’t keep doing that. It needs to be sold by the end of next week, and I’m not the only one interested. If I don’t make a decision soon, it’s going to go to someone else”.

Your heart sank a little, knowing how much Jensen had already envisioned his future in that house—your future together. But there were still so many things left unresolved, with Danneel, the divorce, the kids.

“What are you going to do?”, you asked quietly, searching his face for some clue as to what he was thinking.

Jensen was quiet for a moment, his jaw tightening as he stared ahead, lost in thought. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he turned to you, his expression softening. “I don’t know yet”, he admitted, his voice low. “But I can’t let it slip away without at least trying. That house… it feels like the right move. I just need to figure out how to make it work”.

He reached for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “And I want to make sure you’re okay with it, too. I don’t want to push us into something if it’s not what we both want”.

You squeezed his hand back, feeling the weight of the decision. You knew the house was important to him, and honestly, it was starting to feel important to you too—a place where you could both start fresh.

“I’m with you”, you said softly, leaning into him. “Whatever you decide”.

Jensen nodded, pulling you closer into his arms, resting his chin on top of your head. “Thanks”, he murmured, his voice filled with gratitude. “I just need to talk to my lawyer, figure out if there’s a way to move things along faster with the divorce. I can’t afford to wait much longer”.

You stayed there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the movie now long forgotten as the reality of the situation settled in. Jensen had a big decision to make, and no matter what, you knew you’d face it together.

The next few days were a whirlwind for Jensen as he spent most of his time discussing everything with his lawyer—especially the details surrounding the house and the complications with the divorce. He seemed to be juggling everything at once, and you could see the weight of it in his shoulders, the way his brow furrowed when he thought you weren’t looking. It was draining him, and you knew tonight, more than any other night, he would need a break.

By Wednesday evening, you had everything set up to help ease the tension he would no doubt be carrying with him. You had decided to cook—something simple but comforting, knowing how much he loved a good steak. The aroma filled the kitchen, and you glanced over at the bottle of 18-year-old single malt whiskey you’d picked out, sitting on the counter, waiting for the two of you to unwind.

You were dressed casually in leggings and a soft, form-fitting top, but beneath it all, you’d put on something special—a set of lingerie you knew he wouldn’t be able to resist. The thought made you smile to yourself as you set the table, placing two glasses next to the whiskey bottle. You were determined to help him relax, to get him out of his head, and back into the moment with you.

As you finished up in the kitchen, you heard Jensen pulling up outside. A part of you braced for his mood—knowing that every meeting with his lawyer these days seemed to leave him frustrated, if not completely drained. But tonight, you were prepared to lift his spirits, knowing just how to pull him out of that funk.

The door opened, and you turned around, already smiling, as Jensen stepped inside. He looked as you’d expected—his shoulders tense, his eyes a little tired, and a frown pulling at the corners of his lips.

"Hey", he said, his voice low and tired as he kicked off his shoes by the door. "Sorry I'm late. The meeting ran over again".

You walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist as he let out a heavy sigh, leaning into your embrace. "It’s okay", you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his chest. "I figured you might need a bit of a pick-me-up tonight, so I made dinner".

Jensen looked down at you, the tension in his face easing just a bit as he managed a small smile. "You didn’t have to do all that", he mumbled, though you could tell he appreciated the effort.

"I wanted to", you replied, taking his hand and leading him toward the kitchen. "I’ve got steak, and I picked up some of that whiskey you like".

Jensen’s eyebrows lifted at the mention of whiskey, and his smile widened. "You’re spoiling me", he teased lightly, though there was still that tiredness in his eyes.

"You deserve it", you said softly, handing him a glass of whiskey as he sat down at the kitchen table. "And after dinner… well, let’s just say I’ve got a few more surprises in store".

Jensen chuckled, taking a sip of his drink, but his eyes darkened with intrigue as they flickered over to you. "Now you've got me curious", he said, his voice dropping to that deep tone that always sent shivers down your spine.

You smiled coyly, but didn’t say anything more, letting the promise of what was to come linger in the air as you brought the steaks over to the table. As the two of you ate, the conversation was light, but you could still sense the tension in him, the weight of everything he was dealing with. You wanted to help him shake it off, and once dinner was finished, you knew just how to do it.

After the plates were cleared, you stood up, catching his gaze as you slowly peeled off your top, revealing the lace of the lingerie beneath. His eyes darkened instantly, his tiredness replaced by something else—something more primal.

"You’ve been holding out on me", Jensen said with a smirk, his mood already shifting as he leaned back in his chair, watching you.

"I told you I had more surprises", you teased, stepping closer to him, letting your hands drift to your leggings, slowly sliding them down to reveal the matching lace panties beneath. Jensen’s eyes followed your every move, the frustration of the last few days melting away as he reached for you, pulling you into his lap.

"God, I love you", he murmured, his lips pressing against your neck as his hands roamed over the lace, already beginning to tug at it.

The rest of the night, you made sure Jensen forgot about every stress, every frustration. All that mattered was the two of you, tangled in each other, as you reminded him just how much he was loved and supported—no matter how tough things got.

By the end of the week, Jensen and his lawyer had finalized the plan for the house. It wasn’t the simplest route, but it was one that ensured the house would remain out of Danneel’s reach. Now, you found yourself standing inside the very home that had captured both of your imaginations just days ago. The weight of what you were about to do sat heavily on your shoulders, but the warmth of Jensen’s hand on your back gave you strength.

The room was quiet except for the faint sound of papers being shuffled. Jensen’s lawyer, stood at the kitchen island with a stack of documents, while Jensen’s old friend, who had held the house for him, leaned casually against the counter with a small, encouraging smile.

“You sure about this?”, Jensen asked softly as he leaned in closer. There was a flicker of concern in his green eyes, but mostly, there was pride and gratitude. He knew this was a big step, and while it was necessary, he didn’t take your role in it lightly.

You nodded, biting your lip nervously but managing a small smile. “I’m sure. This is for us, right?”.

Jensen exhaled deeply, his lips curving into a soft smile as he kissed your temple. “Yeah. This is for us”.

His lawyer cleared his throat, glancing at you both. “If you’re ready, we just need your signature here”, he said, sliding the contract across the island toward you. “Jensen’s funds are already set up for the transfer, and the house will officially be in your name by the end of the day”.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you picked up the pen, the gravity of the moment making your heart race. The arrangement had been clear: to keep Danneel from having any potential claim to the property during the divorce proceedings, it would be smartest if you were the one to buy the house. Jensen had the money, having quietly set funds aside for years in preparation for the possibility of his marriage ending, but you would be the legal owner. It was a lot to take on, but the trust Jensen placed in you made you feel steadier.

As the pen touched the paper, you glanced up at Jensen one last time. He gave you an encouraging nod. You signed your name, the sound of the pen scratching against the paper marking the start of a new chapter for both of you.

An hour later, the house was finally quiet. Jensen´s Laywer and his friend had left, and the gravity of what had just happened was beginning to settle in. You wandered aimlessly through the house, letting your fingers trail along the smooth walls and polished surfaces. Every step you took felt surreal, as if you were walking through someone else��s life.

When you reached the master bedroom, you stopped at the center of the room, looking around at the large, empty space. The massive windows framed a breathtaking view of the backyard and the Colorado River beyond. The sunlight poured in, casting soft golden light over the hardwood floors. You could already imagine how it would look once it was furnished, once it felt like home, but for now, it was just an empty room holding the weight of a big decision.

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of emotions you couldn’t quite name. Excitement? Yes. Nervousness? Definitely. But also a sense of disbelief that this was really happening. That this house was yours—and Jensen’s. That this life you were building together was no longer just an idea but something real and tangible.

Lost in thought, you didn’t hear Jensen come up behind you until his arms slipped around your waist, pulling you gently against his chest. His chin rested lightly on your shoulder, and the familiar scent of him—woodsy, vanilla, warm—immediately eased your nerves.

“Hey”, he murmured, his voice soft as his lips brushed against your temple. “You okay?”.

You nodded, leaning into him as his hands splayed over your stomach. “Yeah”, you whispered. “Just… taking it all in”.

Jensen’s arms tightened around you slightly, his warmth enveloping you. “It’s a lot, huh?”, he asked, his voice filled with understanding. “I know it’s overwhelming. I’ve been feeling the same way. But this… this is ours now. Our start”.

You turned slightly in his arms to face him, looking up into his familiar green eyes. “Does it feel real to you yet?”, you asked softly, searching his expression.

Jensen smiled, a mixture of relief and affection crossing his face. “Not completely”, he admitted with a chuckle. “But seeing you here… it’s starting to feel real. I didn’t want to do this alone. I wanted to do this with you”.

His words made your chest tighten, and you couldn’t help but smile back. “I just hope I don’t mess this up”, you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jensen’s hands moved to cup your face, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks. “You won’t”, he said firmly, his gaze steady and full of reassurance. “We’ve got this. Together”.

For a moment, you just stood there in the middle of the empty master bedroom, holding onto each other, the enormity of what you were building together slowly sinking in.

Jensen broke the silence with a small, teasing grin. “You know”, he said, his tone lighter now, “we could start making this place feel like home right now”.

You raised an eyebrow, your lips twitching into a playful smile. “Oh? And how do you propose we do that?”.

Jensen leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours as he murmured, “Well, I can think of a few ways…”.

Before you could even respond, Jensen grinned mischievously and scooped you up into his arms, making you squeal in surprise and laugh softly against his shoulder. His arms were strong and steady, holding you effortlessly as he carried you toward the en suite bathroom. The gleaming marble countertops and expansive space felt both luxurious and intimate as he set you down gently on the cool surface.

Jensen’s hands were already on your hips, tugging you closer to the edge of the counter as he leaned in, his lips finding yours in a deep, lingering kiss. There was an urgency to his movements, but it was laced with tenderness, like he wanted to savor every second. His fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, tugging it upward as he kissed you again, his lips moving from your mouth to your jaw, then down your neck.

The cool air of the room brushed against your skin as he pulled the fabric over your head, discarding it to the side. His hands roamed your sides, his thumbs tracing the curves of your waist while his lips continued their exploration, trailing down to the hollow of your collarbone.

“You look so good here”, Jensen murmured against your skin, his voice husky and filled with a mix of desire and admiration. His hands moved to the waistband of your jeans, his fingers working deftly to undo the button and zipper, sliding them down just enough to expose more of you to his touch.

Your breath hitched as you leaned back slightly, your hands tangling in his hair as you tugged him closer. “Jensen…”, you whispered, his name a soft plea that made him smirk against your skin.

He took his time, peeling away the rest of your clothes piece by piece, his hands and lips exploring every newly exposed inch of your body. The contrast of the cool marble against your skin and the heat of his touch sent shivers through you, heightening every sensation.

Jensen finally pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his hands resting on either side of your thighs. His green eyes were dark with intensity, a small grin playing on his lips. “You really do make this place feel like home”, he said softly, his voice a mix of teasing and genuine affection.

Before you could respond, he dipped his head again, his lips finding yours in another passionate kiss as his hands slid up your thighs, pulling you even closer to him. The weight of the moment, the newness of the house, and the depth of your connection made everything feel electric, as if this wasn’t just the start of a home but the beginning of something even more profound between you.

As the evening settled into a cozy quiet, you found yourself perched comfortably on Jensen’s lap at the desk in your apartment. His arms rested around you loosely, one hand navigating the trackpad on your laptop while the other held you steady against him. The glow from the screen illuminated his face as he scrolled through a list of interior designers, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Hmm”, Jensen muttered, clicking on a link to a designer’s portfolio. “This one seems decent. But their schedule’s probably packed”.

You leaned your head back against his shoulder, watching the screen lazily, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Why don’t we just do it ourselves?”, you mumbled, your voice quiet but warm.

Jensen paused, tilting his head slightly to glance down at you. “Do it ourselves?”, he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, like normal people, Ackles”, you chuckled, shifting slightly on his lap to get more comfortable. “Not everyone hires a fancy interior designer to swoop in and make all the decisions. Some of us peasants actually enjoy picking out our own couches and curtains”.

He laughed softly, the sound rumbling through his chest against your back. “Peasants, huh? Pretty sure most of the peasants don’t have to fill an entire house. This place is massive, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly a furniture guy”.

You rolled your eyes playfully, nudging him with your elbow. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m here, then. I’ll keep you from filling it with whiskey barrels and ugly throw pillows”.

“Whiskey barrels?”, he repeated with a grin, pretending to consider it. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. Would make a great bar setup in the corner of the living room…”.

You groaned dramatically, your laughter spilling out as you turned to face him. “This is exactly why we’re doing it together. I am not living in a house that looks like a rustic distillery”.

Jensen’s lips brushed against your temple before trailing softly down to your neck, the warmth of his breath sending a small shiver through you. His arms tightened around your waist as he nuzzled closer, his voice low and teasing. “See, the thing is… hiring someone just makes life so much easier”, he murmured, punctuating his words with a gentle kiss against your skin. “They pick the furniture, make it all pretty, and we just… show up”.

You rolled your eyes, biting back a grin as his lips lingered against your neck. “Oh, so you just want to be lazy”, you teased, trying to ignore the pleasant distraction he was creating.

“Not lazy”, Jensen countered, his tone playful as he pressed another kiss just beneath your ear. “Efficient. Big difference”.

You tilted your head slightly, letting out a soft laugh as you tried to gather your thoughts. “Efficient, huh? And what happens when the designer picks out something ridiculous that you hate? Like a giant abstract sculpture in the middle of the living room? Then what, Mr. Efficient?”.

Jensen pulled back slightly, feigning offense. “You really think I’d hire someone with bad taste?”.

“You’re the guy who thought whiskey barrels were good interior design”, you shot back, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s different”, he said with a smirk, his hands running up your sides as his lips found your neck again. “That’s character. Authenticity”.

You squirmed in his lap, trying not to let his kisses distract you too much. “I’m serious, Jensen. Doing it ourselves means we get exactly what we want. We get to pick things out together, and it’ll actually feel like ours”.

He paused at that, his lips hovering just above your skin. “Ours, huh?”, he repeated softly, the teasing edge in his voice replaced by something warmer.

You turned slightly to face him, your eyes meeting his. “Yeah”, you said with a small smile. “This house is going to be our home. I want it to feel like us, not like someone else’s idea of what it should be”.

Jensen studied you for a moment, his expression softening. Then he sighed dramatically, leaning back in the chair. “Fine”, he said, feigning defeat. “We’ll do it your way. But if it takes longer than a month, I’m calling in reinforcements”.

You laughed, leaning forward to kiss him lightly on the lips. “Deal. But I guarantee you’ll end up loving the process”.

Jensen smirked, his hands resting comfortably on your hips. “As long as you’re there, I’ll survive. Just… promise me no endless debates about curtain colors”.

“No promises”, you teased, grinning as you leaned in to kiss him again.

The next morning, you were buzzing with excitement as you dragged Jensen out of bed, barely letting him finish his coffee before convincing him it was time to start looking at furniture. He grumbled the entire way, but you could see the faint amusement in his expression as he grabbed the car keys and followed you to the driveway.

It wasn’t until you told him the destination that he lost it.

“IKEA? Are you serious?”, Jensen exclaimed, gripping the steering wheel tighter as he pulled out onto the main road. His tone was half incredulous, half exasperated, and it was hard not to laugh at how quickly he was spiraling.

“What’s wrong with IKEA?”, you teased, leaning back in your seat, a smug grin on your face.

“What’s wrong with it?”, he repeated, glancing at you like you’d just suggested putting a bouncy castle in the living room. “I’m not putting a $600 couch into a million-dollar house. I don’t care how many meatballs they bribe people with”.

You snorted, trying and failing to stifle your laughter. “It’s not just about the price, Jensen. It’s about finding pieces we like. IKEA has some great stuff if you actually take the time to look”.

He let out a dramatic groan, shaking his head. “I don’t want to ‘take the time to look’. I want to sit on something that doesn’t feel like it’s going to fall apart in six months”.

“Then we don’t buy the couch”, you reasoned, shrugging as you enjoyed his mini-meltdown. “But we might find other things we need—like kitchen stuff or storage solutions”.

“Storage solutions?”, Jensen muttered under his breath, his knuckles tightening on the wheel. “We’re putting that sentence in the pre-nup”.

“In the what?”, you asked, your voice quiet as you turned to look at Jensen, the teasing tone from earlier replaced by something softer, almost vulnerable. Your stomach fluttered slightly, the word pre-nup bouncing around in your mind. It wasn’t a casual word to just throw out there, and you couldn’t help but feel a rush of curiosity—and something deeper—at the implication.

Jensen froze too, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter as if he could somehow will the moment away. He hadn’t planned to say it; the word had just slipped out in his frustration. His jaw tightened, and he glanced at you, his expression somewhere between guilty and hesitant.

“Uh…”, he started, his voice trailing off as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I mean…”. He cleared his throat, clearly trying to backpedal but failing miserably.

You tilted your head slightly, studying him, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite the unexpected turn in the conversation. “Jensen”, you said softly, your voice coaxing him out of his flustered state. “What did you mean by pre-nup?”.

He let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping slightly as he shook his head. “That… came out wrong”, he admitted, his voice low and a little sheepish. “I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to just—”. He paused, groaning softly as he ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m not proposing or anything right now, okay? It was just… a stupid joke”.

You blinked at him, your smile growing despite his obvious discomfort. “Not proposing right now?”, you repeated, latching onto the phrase. “So… what, later?”.

Jensen groaned again, his head tilting back against the headrest as he muttered, “You’re killing me here”.

You laughed, the tension in your chest easing at his reaction. “I’m not trying to kill you, Ackles. Just trying to understand why pre-nup suddenly entered the conversation”.

He glanced at you, his green eyes softening as he finally relaxed a little. “Because I’m an idiot”, he said, his voice lighter now. “And because I… sometimes think about what the future looks like with you in it. And sometimes, I let my mouth run ahead of my brain”.

Your heart swelled at his words, the butterflies in your stomach now in full flight. “You think about the future with me?”, you asked, your tone soft but teasing, though you couldn’t hide the warmth in your eyes.

“Of course I do”, Jensen said, his voice steady now, though there was a hint of vulnerability in his gaze. “I wouldn’t be doing all of this—buying the house, dragging myself to IKEA—if I didn’t see you as part of that future”.

For a moment, you were speechless, the weight of his words sinking in. The awkwardness of the earlier slip faded away, replaced by a quiet understanding between the two of you.

Finally, you reached over and placed your hand on his thigh, squeezing gently. “Well, good to know”, you said with a small smile. “But for the record, if you ever actually propose, maybe don’t bring up pre-nups in the same sentence”.

Jensen let out a laugh, shaking his head as he reached down to cover your hand with his. “Noted”, he said, his grin returning. “Now let’s get this over with before I say something else stupid”.

The rest of the drive was lighter, the unexpected detour in conversation leaving both of you with a sense of clarity—and a lot of teasing material for later.

Walking into IKEA, you couldn’t help but glance over at Jensen as he tugged his baseball cap lower over his face, keeping his head down like he was sneaking into some kind of covert operation. He looked ridiculous, his six-foot-something frame and broad shoulders not exactly blending into the sea of shoppers browsing flat-packed furniture.

You stifled a laugh as you leaned closer to him, bumping his arm. “You know, the hat’s not really helping, right? Pretty sure you’re still the tallest guy here”.

“Shut up”, he muttered, his voice low as he adjusted the brim of his cap.

Your grin widened as you decided to press him a little further. “Is this about being caught in IKEA, or is it about being caught in IKEA with me?”, you teased, your voice light. “Because, honestly, I can’t tell which one’s freaking you out more”.

Jensen shot you a look, his green eyes narrowing under the brim of his cap. “Both”, he said flatly, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting back a smile. “Now find a plant or something so we can go to Scott + Cooner like adults”.

You stopped in your tracks. “Oh no, we are doing this, Ackles. You’re going to embrace the IKEA experience like a real person. We’ll get a cart, sample the meatballs, and maybe even argue over a Billy bookcase”.

He groaned, his head tilting back dramatically. “I don’t want a Billy bookcase”.

“Well, too bad”, you said cheerfully, dragging him toward the maze of displays. “This is what normal people do, remember? You’re the one who said you wanted to do this together”.

Jensen grumbled something under his breath about “normal people” as he reluctantly followed you through the showroom. His discomfort was written all over his face, and it only made you laugh harder.

At one point, you stopped in front of a display of potted plants, holding up a small, bright green fern. “How about this?”, you asked innocently, holding it up toward him. “It’ll go perfectly in the living room. Very chic”.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Fine. Whatever gets us out of here faster”.

“We’re not even close to done. Let’s find some throw pillows next. Maybe a rug”.

Jensen groaned again, shaking his head as he muttered, “I should’ve just hired the damn designer”.

Back in the car, Jensen let out a relieved sigh as he started the engine, clearly thrilled to be leaving IKEA behind. The trunk was filled with your haul—towels, plants, kitchen gadgets, and a pair of adorable laundry baskets shaped like animals that you insisted his kids would love.

But it wasn’t exactly the productive trip you’d hoped for, considering Jensen’s outright refusal to even consider any furniture.

As you buckled your seatbelt, you couldn’t help the frustration bubbling up inside you. “You know”, you started, your tone quieter than usual but still pointed, “you actually made me feel pretty bad in there”.

Jensen turned his head sharply to look at you, his expression shifting from relaxed to concerned. “What? Why?”, he asked, his brows knitting together.

You sighed, staring out the window as the car began to move. “I don’t know. It’s just… the way you dismissed everything, like it wasn’t good enough. Like I’m not good enough”. Your voice wavered slightly, but you pressed on. “I mean, not everyone can afford custom furniture or designer bedsheets, Jensen. And yeah, maybe I like IKEA stuff because it’s simple and affordable, and it works for people like me. But the way you acted in there—it was like you thought everything, including me, was beneath you”.

The car grew silent for a moment, Jensen’s grip tightening slightly on the steering wheel. “Hey, that’s not fair”, he said after a beat, his voice quieter than usual but still firm. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. I just… I’ve never had to think about it like that”.

Jensen glanced at you, his brows furrowed as he processed what you were saying. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad”, he repeated, his voice softer now but tinged with frustration. “I just don’t see why we should settle for stuff that’s not going to last. It’s not about you or how you do things—it’s about wanting the best for us, for the house”.

You sighed, crossing your arms as you stared out the window, trying to keep your emotions in check. “But that’s the thing, Jensen”, you said, your tone firm but not unkind. “It felt like you were dismissing everything I liked without even considering it. You said no to everything, and yeah, maybe it’s not what you’re used to, but that doesn’t mean it’s not good enough”.

Jensen opened his mouth to respond, but you held up a hand, cutting him off gently. “Look, I get that you want everything to be perfect for the house, but perfection doesn’t always come with a big price tag. Sometimes, it’s about the little things—the things that make a space feel like home, not just a showroom”.

He frowned as he absorbed your words. “I didn’t mean to make it seem like that stuff wasn’t good enough”, he muttered, his voice tinged with guilt. “I just… I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never had to start over like this before, and I guess I’m overthinking everything”.

He glanced over at you hesitantly, his voice quieter than usual. “Do you… want to go back inside? Take another look?”.

You couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh, shaking your head as you looked away, the disappointment still lingering in your chest. “Oh, sure, so I can listen to more complaints about the ‘plastic shit’, like the PAX wardrobe?”, you mumbled, your tone tinged with sarcasm but not anger. “Which, by the way, is way out of my price league, so thanks for that little reality check”.

Jensen winced at your words, the weight of your disappointment hitting him squarely. He started to speak, but you cut him off gently, your voice softer now. “Look, I’m not mad. I get it—you have your standards, and that’s fine. But it’s clear this whole thing is just… worlds apart for us. So let’s just skip the IKEA detours and head straight to your high horse designers”.

Your words stung, not because they were cruel, but because they were laced with the truth. Jensen let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair as he tried to find the right words to fix what he’d unintentionally broken. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like this”, he said, his voice low. “I was just being… I don’t know, picky? Stupid? Definitely not thinking about how it would come across to you”.

You glanced at him, catching the way his shoulders slumped slightly, his usual confidence replaced with a rare vulnerability. It wasn’t often that Jensen found himself out of his depth, but this was clearly one of those times.

“I was an ass… and I hate that I made you feel like that”, He hesitated before glancing at you again. “Let me make it up to you. We’ll figure this out. And I promise, no more dismissing your ideas, okay?”.

You studied him for a moment, seeing the sincerity in his eyes, and you felt your frustration begin to ebb away. “Fine”, you said, letting out a small sigh. “But if we go to one of your fancy designer stores, I’m picking out the most ridiculous thing I can find, just to see your face when I tell you I want it”.

Jensen chuckled softly, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Deal”, he said, reaching over to squeeze your hand. “And hey, for the record? You’re not just ‘good enough’. You’re better than anything I could’ve ever hoped for. Even if we end up with a house full of PAX wardrobes”.

You rolled your eyes at Jensen’s attempt to smooth things over, but the little smile tugging at the corners of your lips gave you away. His ability to own up to his mistakes was one of the reasons you found it so hard to stay mad at him. Even if he could be frustrating, he always tried to make things right.

Three hours later, you found yourself standing in one of Jensen’s high-end designer shops. The store was everything you imagined: gleaming hardwood floors, perfectly curated displays, and a sleek, minimalist aesthetic that screamed luxury. A personal assistant hovered nearby, ready to cater to your every whim, though her overly eager energy made you feel slightly out of place.

Jensen, of course, was in his element. He casually wandered around, hands in his pockets, nodding approvingly at items as the assistant showed them to you both. The introduction Jensen had given—referring to you as "a friend he was helping furnish her new house"—lingered awkwardly in your mind.But you tried not to let it bother you too much.

After a while, you started feeling the weight of the assistant’s constant presence, her endless chatter about fabric samples and custom finishes. Deciding you needed a break, you turned to her with a polite smile. “Would you mind grabbing me a pen and some paper? I’d like to jot down a few things I like and take a look on my own for a bit”.

The assistant blinked in surprise but nodded quickly. “Of course! I’ll be right back”.

Once she was gone, you let out a sigh of relief and turned to Jensen, who was standing by a display of oversized throw pillows. He raised an eyebrow at you, smirking slightly. “Sending her off already? I thought you were enjoying the VIP treatment”.

“Please”, you scoffed, walking over to him. “It’s exhausting. I just want to look around without someone hovering over me, talking about thread counts and imported leather every five seconds”.

Jensen chuckled, leaning casually against the display. “Fair enough. So, what’s the plan, then?”.

You crossed your arms, your lips twitching into a smile. “I’m going to write down the things I like, compare some prices, and figure out what actually makes sense. You know, like normal people do”.

He gave you a playful look. “Normal people? Here? You’re breaking the store rules already”.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress your grin. “Well, someone has to keep things grounded. You’re out here ready to buy a thousand-dollar lamp like it’s a pack of gum”.

Jensen laughed, reaching out to tug you closer by the hand. “That’s why I have you, right? To keep me in check”.

“Exactly”, you teased, though your heart warmed at his words. He might have his preferences and habits, but he genuinely wanted to include you in this, to make this house feel like it belonged to both of you.

The assistant returned a moment later, handing you the pen and paper with a bright smile before stepping away again. You started jotting down a few notes as you moved through the store, Jensen trailing behind you with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

“Alright, let’s see”, he said, peeking over your shoulder. “What’s the verdict so far?”.

You looked up at him with a mock-serious expression. “So far, I’ve decided that we definitely don’t need a $3,000 chair”.

Jensen burst out laughing, shaking his head. “You’re impossible”.

“And yet, here you are”, you shot back with a smirk, feeling the tension of the day finally start to ease. This was how it should feel—light, playful, and full of little moments that reminded you why this whole crazy endeavor was worth it.

By the end of the day, the major furniture pieces were selected, and Jensen had everything arranged for delivery in a few days. That gave you both just enough time to hire painters to refresh a few rooms and finalize the design decisions you’d been debating all day. The relief on Jensen’s face was palpable as you signed off on the orders, glad to have the process underway.

But you weren’t quite finished with your mission.

What you did bring home with you today, tucked into the backseat of your car, was a 3-foot bronze sculpture of a Chinese Crested dog. It was, without a doubt, the ugliest thing you’d ever seen, with its exaggerated, patchy coat and bug-eyed expression staring blankly into the void. It had been wildly overpriced at $2,000, but you’d insisted on it, claiming it was “just the thing” the house needed.

“Seriously?”, Jensen had grumbled as he carried the sculpture toward the car, visibly struggling with its awkward size and weight. The exaggerated, patchy bronze coat of the Chinese Crested dog shimmered mockingly in the sunlight, its bug-eyed expression seemingly mirroring Jensen’s current mood. “You’re actually making me buy this?”.

“Absolutely”, you replied without hesitation, your grin wide and unapologetic as you crossed your arms and leaned against the car. “This thing is iconic. It’s going to be the centerpiece of our home”.

Jensen shot you a dubious look, his brows furrowing. “The centerpiece? This thing looks like it’s been haunting someone’s nightmares for the past decade”.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “Exactly. It’s a great reminder. Every time you walk past this thing, you’ll remember that not everything expensive is automatically better than something simple or cheap”.

Jensen narrowed his eyes at you, adjusting his grip on the awkward, heavy sculpture. “You’re seriously making this about life lessons now?”.

“Of course”, you replied, your grin widening as you leaned against the car. “Look at it this way—every time you see this ugly little dog, you’ll be reminded to stay grounded. Not everything has to be high-end”.

He let out a dramatic groan, his green eyes rolling skyward as he carefully maneuvered the dog into the backseat. “Grounded? This thing looks like it crawled out of a cursed thrift shop”.

You laughed, crossing your arms as you admired his reluctant compliance. “And yet, here you are, hauling it to the car. Deep down, you love it already”.

Jensen slammed the door shut with a bit more force than necessary, turning back to you with an exasperated but amused expression. “Well, then I’m doing this to teach you a lesson about commitment. You’re going to regret spending two grand on this monstrosity the second it’s staring at you in the middle of the night”.

“Not a chance”, you shot back, stepping closer and placing a hand on his chest. “This thing is staying right by the front door. It’ll be our house’s weird little guardian. A symbol of compromise”.

“Compromise”, he repeated, his tone laced with sarcasm as he raised an eyebrow. “Pretty sure you just bullied me into buying it”.

“Semantics”, you said with a shrug. “Now let’s get to the house and find the perfect spot for it”.

Jensen chuckled, shaking his head as he opened the driver’s side door. “You’re lucky I love you”, he muttered as he slid into the seat.

You climbed in beside him, grinning triumphantly. “No, the dog’s lucky you love me. Otherwise, it’d still be sitting in the store”.

Jensen’s laughter filled the car as he started the engine, the absurdity of the situation breaking any lingering tension from earlier in the day. The Chinese Crested sculpture might not have been his first—or hundredth—choice, but it was definitely going to be memorable. And that, you decided, was exactly the point.

Jensen carried the bronze monstrosity into the house, his steps slow and deliberate as he maneuvered it through the doorway. The empty space of the hallway made the sculpture’s presence even more pronounced, its exaggerated features gleaming under the overhead lights. He placed it right by the front door, stepping back to admire—or at least accept—his handiwork.

“There”, he said, dusting off his hands and looking at the dog with a mixture of begrudging pride and resigned amusement. “The first official resident of the house”.

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a triumphant grin plastered across your face. “See? It’s perfect. First thing people see when they walk in—it’s like a welcome mat but way more intimidating”.

Jensen chuckled, shaking his head as he tilted his head to study the dog from another angle. “Intimidating? This thing’s more likely to make people question my sanity than run for the hills”.

“Exactly”, you said, stepping closer and bumping his shoulder with yours. “It’s the perfect conversation starter. And now it has meaning".

Jensen chuckled, his laughter growing louder as he leaned forward, hands on his knees for support. His voice cracked with amusement as he finally straightened, wiping a hand over his face. “It’s so—God, it’s so fucking ugly”, he managed between breaths, his green eyes glinting with actual tears of laughter. “I mean, really. What were they thinking when they made this thing?”.

You laughed along with him, the absurdity of the moment making it impossible not to join in. “Hey, don’t insult our new housemate!”, you teased, nudging him playfully. “This is a masterpiece. Pure art”.

Jensen shook his head, grinning as he wiped at his eyes again. “Art? Babe, it looks like it’s straight out of a bad fever dream. Who in their right mind spends two grand on this?”. He gestured dramatically at the dog, its bug-eyed expression staring back at him like a challenge.

“You did”, you shot back smugly, crossing your arms. “And don’t forget it. Every time you walk through that door, you’ll remember that sometimes compromise is messy—and a little hideous”.

He sighed deeply, still grinning, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “You’re right”, he said, shaking his head as he looked at the sculpture again. “This thing’s gonna haunt me forever. But you know what? I kind of love that it’s the first thing we put in here. It’s… us, in the weirdest, most ridiculous way”.

You smiled, leaning into him as the two of you stared at the absurd bronze dog that now stood proudly in the entryway. “It’s definitely a story we’ll be telling for years”, you said, your voice softening. “And it’s ours”.

Jensen kissed the top of your head, his laughter quieting into a warm chuckle. “Alright, fine. You win. But if anyone asks, you’re explaining it, not me”.

“Deal”, you replied with a grin, squeezing his side as you both turned toward the rest of the house.

"Two thousand dollars”, Jensen mumbled, shaking his head as he gave the dog one last incredulous glance. He turned back to you with an exaggerated look of disbelief. “I still can’t believe you talked me into that”.

You shrugged innocently, trying to stifle a laugh. “It’s a conversation starter, remember? You’ll thank me when people are lining up to hear the tale of the ‘Bronze Nightmare`”.

Jensen shook his head again, this time with a bemused smile, and placed a hand on your back, gently guiding you toward the door. “Out. Let’s go. Before you convince me to buy a bronze cat to match it”.

“Oh, don’t tempt me”, you teased, stepping outside and turning back to him with a playful grin. “I saw a life-sized giraffe sculpture at the same store. It’d look amazing in the backyard”.

Jensen groaned dramatically, leaning against the doorframe for a moment as if your suggestion physically pained him. “This is why I should’ve gone with an interior designer”, he muttered, his voice laced with mock regret as he closed the door behind you both.

“You love me”, you said with a smirk, looping your arm through his as the two of you headed toward the car.

“Yeah”, he replied, his voice softening, though his smirk stayed firmly in place. “I do. Even if you’re a terrible influence on my wallet”.

As you slid into the passenger seat and buckled your seatbelt, you couldn’t resist another jab. “I was fine with IKEA, you know”, you said with a shrug, a sly smile tugging at your lips. “Until you made me teach you a life lesson”.

Jensen glanced at you as he settled into the driver’s seat, shaking his head with a grin that didn’t quite mask the disbelief still lingering on his face. “A two-thousand-dollar life lesson?”, he said, his tone incredulous but amused. “You could’ve just written me a strongly worded letter or something”.

“Where’s the fun in that?”, you shot back, folding your arms as you leaned into the seat. “Besides, I think it’s poetic justice. You wanted high-end, designer-quality pieces? Well, voilà—your very own bronze work of art”.

“Work of art, my ass”, Jensen muttered, running a hand through his hair before starting the car.

“You’ll grow to love it. Just wait”.

Jensen shot you a skeptical glance but didn’t argue further as he pulled out onto the road. “You better hope that thing grows on me fast because it’s going to be the first thing I see every time I walk in the door. I can already hear Jared’s comments when he visits”.

“Oh, Jared’s going to love it”, you teased, leaning toward him. “He’ll probably want one for his own house. We might have started a trend”.

Jensen groaned dramatically, shaking his head as his lips twitched into another smile.

You raised an eyebrow at Jensen, your lips curving into a playful smirk as you tilted your head toward him. “So”, you began, drawing out the word for effect, “Chick-fil-A or Hestia?”.

Jensen’s eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced at you, instantly catching the not-so-subtle callback to your earlier debate. He groaned dramatically, leaning his head back against the headrest for a second before shaking his head. “You’re never going to let this go, are you?”.

“Not a chance”, you teased, grinning. “So, what’s it going to be, Mr. Fancy Designer? Cheap and cheerful, or expensive and exclusive?”.

Jensen sighed, gripping the steering wheel tighter for a moment before rolling his eyes. “Chick-fil-A”, he grumbled, his voice laced with mock defeat. “I’m not about to risk another life lesson today. My wallet’s already recovering from that dog”.

You laughed, genuinely delighted at his response. “See? You’re learning. That’s what life lessons are all about”.

He shook his head again, but the corner of his mouth twitched into a reluctant smile. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up”.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

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Part 33

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Taglist: @cheynovak @chriszgirl92 @jenniferr0323 @angelbabyyy99 @cevansbaby-dove @muhahaha303 @jackles010378 @suckitands33 @n-o-p-e-never @mayafatimakhan @ladysparkles78 @viviandarkbloom06 @jassackles @evasmlp @acklesaddict67 @mostlymarvelgirl @emma1998sblog @mishaesque @headinthemoon87 @hobby27 @winchesterwild78 @impala67rollingthroughtown @manicjk @kr804573 @zaratahir @djs8891 @winchesterwild78 @jamerlynn @whimsyfinny @libby99hb @deansimpalababy @deans-queen @kawaii-arfid-memes @faephoria @stoneyggirl2 @fitxgrld @luvr4miya @yikeschoices @lyssalvus @soab1967 @luvr4miya @didi0666 @impala67rollingthroughtown @cheekygirl2309 @kamisobsessed @deansimpalababy

[iamgonnagetyouback]

𝟷𝚔 || 𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐄'𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘 𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐔𝐄𝐒

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Inspired by this.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: None

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: Barty Crouch Jr. x fem!reader

You leaned back against the worn stone wall of the dungeon corridor, glancing up at Barty with a soft sigh. "Snape was a bit rude to me today," you began, your voice light, almost nonchalant.

Barty didn’t miss a beat, cutting you off before you could elaborate. “Of course he was rude, love,” he said with a wild grin, leaning closer to you. “That man’s entire existence is a tragedy, starting with the fact that his father didn’t love him. He has to live with that reality every single day.”

You blinked. “What?”

Barty paced around you in a circle, throwing his hands up as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. “Think about it! Snape wakes up, looks in the mirror, and all he sees is the cold, empty void left behind by his father’s neglect. It’s no wonder he lashes out at people like you.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to keep up. “I didn’t even tell you what he said—”

“And you don’t need to!” Barty interrupted, his voice rising as if he were performing for an audience. He waved his hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter what he said because whatever it was, I’m sure it’s fueled by decades of emotional starvation. Frankly, I get his father’s point of view. I mean, have you met Snape?”

You gaped at him. “Wait, you’re taking Snape’s father’s side in this?”

Barty stopped pacing, turning to face you with a look of pure exasperation, like you were the one missing the point. “Am I wrong? Just imagine having to deal with Snape every day. His father probably threw his hands up in defeat and decided, ‘You know what? I’m just going to emotionally distance myself from this whole situation.’ And honestly—” he shrugged dramatically, “—I can’t blame him.”

You stared at him, caught between laughter and disbelief. “But Barty, you don’t even know what Snape said to me. It might not have had anything to do with his daddy issues.”

Barty rolled his eyes, crossing his arms in that smug, slightly crazed way of his. “Of course it did. Everything about Snape screams unresolved childhood trauma. So go on, tell me what he said. I bet it’ll prove my point.”

You hesitated, feeling ridiculous now that you were actually about to recount it. “Well… he said my potion-making skills were ‘below average at best.’”

Barty let out a bark of laughter, throwing his head back. “Exactly! That’s classic Snape. He probably saw your potential and it reminded him of how his father probably told him he was worthless! It’s textbook projection.”

You stared at him incredulously. “Are you seriously analyzing Snape’s psyche right now?”

Barty smirked, stepping closer, and you could feel the electricity in his movements. “I’m just saying, love, if I had to grow up with that face and that hair—” he gestured wildly toward his own head, mimicking Snape’s greasy locks, “—I’d probably be rude to everyone too. It’s his only coping mechanism.”

You couldn’t help it. A laugh bubbled out of you, and Barty’s grin widened at the sound. “You’re insane, you know that?”

“Of course I am,” he said, pulling you into his arms with a dramatic twirl. “But I’m your brand of insane. So, should I hex Snape or continue psychoanalyzing him?”

You giggled, leaning into his embrace. “Let’s hold off on the hexing for now. But maybe next time he’s rude, we’ll revisit the idea.”

Barty looked down at you, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Deal.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “You really do have a flair for the dramatic.”

Barty smirked, dipping his head closer to yours. “Only for you, darling. Only for you.”

[itsgrimeytime]

drunk on you (part three) || Rick Grimes (TWD) × gn!reader (no apocalypse!AU)

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker

series taglist: @ryoujoking

Part 1, 2.

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Summary: You'd known Rick forever, as far back as freshman year. He was a guy you (if you were honest) had a crush on; there was just something in his stance and the low drawl of his voice. You'd say that feeling only got worse from there. Before you could blink, he was married and had a kid; and suddenly, despite your best efforts, you felt very out of place. You faded out of his life, and he yours. So when Rick shows up at your door (drunk out of his mind) about 5 years after the last time you spoke to him, you have a lot of questions.

TWs: excessive use of pet names, making out, vague reference to sex, shameless flirting, crying, vague reference to Lori's infidelity, and unresolved feelings.

[[A/N: Rick Grimes in this one is simply whipped. also not me going back on my wordddddd. I might make more, we'll see. Also whoever made this gif has my whole heart. Y'all ever just want to hold a man and tell him everythings okay??? That he's allowed to feel??? No, just me? Okay. Enjoy :))]]

"Rick," you pursed your lips, rubbing at a dish in your sink.

Currently, you are at home -on babysitting duty. About a month after the wedding, their honeymoon kick-started and Carl went to stay with his Dad and Judith (who you'd briefly met at the wedding) staying with Lori's mom.

However, she had an appointment today (or at least that's what she said), so your home was currently filled with two tiny children. Luckily, you weren't doing it alone.

"Rick," you repeated -peering over the counter to look at him.

He was looking at you in that kind of way that you recognized to be just... adoration. The smile on his face perked up, as he watched you do whatever you were doing; he wouldn't even look away for a second. It felt kind of like when he told you he loved you, and you couldn't breathe-

"Stop looking at me that."

"Like what?" Rick countered with a smile -you couldn't decide if you wanted to slap it off or kiss him senseless. Later.

You huffed out a breath, finally rinsing the dish, "You know what you're doing, Grimes."

He suddenly seemed to notice what you're doing, standing up from his seat, "Baby, let me do those, you 'ave done enough."

"That's really sweet, babe, and I would gladly accept it in different circumstances," you hummed, grabbing the next one (as well as debating whether to kill him because of the pet name), "-but you're on kid duty."

His eyes instinctively went to the kids, who to his credit were quietly reading (Carl) and passed out on the couch (Judith). There wasn't much to watch.

These kids were way too well-behaved, it was kind of scary-

"If you won't let me help ya," he was slowly stepping toward you, "-why don't you take a break for a little while? You're stressed out-"

"I am not stressed out," you snapped -directly proving his point.

Rick wasn't moved at all though by your 'intimidation', coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. You sighed, instinctively leaning into him -breaths solid and mind stirring.

"I 'aven't seen ya like this since your last midterm," he commented -laughing lightly, slowly swaying the two of you in motion, "-what's goin' on in 'at pretty little head of yours?"

You let out a long breath, "I've really gotta finish these dishes, Rick."

"Finish 'em," he hummed, leaning down to put a featherlight kiss on your cheek, "-I'll be right 'ere, waitin'."

You did so, conveniently way less stressed. Every time your breath picked up and your moves started to become frantic, Rick would notice and pull you closer or kiss you on the temple. All the stress would promptly vanish out of your body.

He'd always been able to do that, even when you were kids, talk you down from ledges, 'relax, it's all goin' to be okay, I promise'. It was kind of weird the way you got him now, romantic, you'd never even dreamed of this. You wouldn't let yourself.

"Whatcha thinkin' about, darlin'?"

You laughed, finishing the last dish and putting it into the strainer, "How much young Y/N would lose their mind right now. With you."

Rick snickered, something delighted in his voice, "Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah," you affirmed, "-They would be..."

You fell silent, even now, all you'd sacrificed, all you'd shoved down still hurt. You had Rick now, but that didn't erase the years you didn't.

"...happy," you finished, a little desolately.

Rick slowly spun you around in his grip, blue eyes searching for yours, and when they found them, smiling -it shot warmth through your chest.

"I love you."

You smiled, hands awkwardly at your side -before frowning, "My hands are all soapy."

"Why does 'at matter?" He tilted his head, grin giving no signs of disappearing.

"I want to kiss you," you explained, "-but I can't do that with-"

"Well," he laughed, moving forward -pulling one hand off your waist and sliding it up to hold your face, "-I can."

Before you could let out a word, he sealed your lips together. Rick always kissed with a little passion, you'd noticed that -so you were a bit lucky that the sink was just behind your back. Otherwise, he would've blindly pushed you into a wall -which hurt last time.

He was slow as if he was trying to treasure you, show you that he loved you. It was less desperate this time, although you were very sure he'd been wanting to kiss you for at least an hour. It was just calming, grounding; the push of his lips, solid and body sturdy against your body.

You couldn't help it then, your hands went to his shoulders, supporting yourself.

And then, he brought out his tongue.

Now, the tongue was new, a lot of trouble -you were really glad he hadn't brought it out in the closet because that would have gone much differently. A little less romantic. More fun though, probably-

He urged open your mouth without hesitation (you were very simple, what can you say), tongue twirling around your own. Still slow, still languid, as if he was carefully wanting to know every little bit of you.

You pulled yourself away, the familiar heat flushing through your body, eyes blinking open to match his. He had the most mischievous little grin there, eyes staying solid on your lips.

Your heart stuttered in your chest.

"Rick," he pushed forward with a simple press of lips, your will was weak, "-we cannot do this right now."

He pushed forward again, more power this time, slowly pulling back, "Your son is in the next room."

"I'd like 'im to see a display of healthy affection," he hummed, still a breath away.

"Don't you think he gets enough of that from Shane and Lori?"

He smiled then, twinkly, "Who says 'ere's is healthy?"

You burst into laughter, as his lips found solace on all the surfaces of his face -the bags of your eyes, the curve of your nose, the corners of your lips, and your cheeks. His grin only got brighter as you laughed -like it was the only sound he'd ever wanted to hear in the world. Or maybe like it was his favorite.

"Okay, okay," you let out a breath, pushing him backward, "-if this keeps going you're going to-"

Your eyes faltered to your hands, and the wet stains on his shirt, "Shit."

"'S no big deal, baby," he hummed, pressing forward to kiss you -simply, "-'ll just get a new one from my drawer."

Right, another new thing, the drawer. Rick stayed over a lot now, and to be fair, you had an extra room (you were going to get a roommate at one point, but that never happened) where Carl could sleep. So, it just started functioning that way. Plus, Rick had a terrible habit of just showing up at your place otherwise. It was much better than that.

The thing was, every time he came over, he brought more of him. Everywhere you looked you could see a little Rick -the boots by the door, the coat on the rack, the extra blanket on the couch, and he'd even brought over some dishes once. That one you weren't sure why.

And it was fine, good even. It's just that you hadn't talked about it. At all.

He still had his place at home, close to Bonnie and the town where you grew up. And while the town was lovely, you had moved on. You just weren't sure that Rick had moved on too.

He'd told you that after getting shot on the job and put in a coma, the department had essentially retired him -out of concern. So, he got a monthly check. He was at your apartment all the time, and yet it seemed like he couldn't get enough of it. You were a little worried about him going stir-crazy in the city on top of everything else. Would it be a good idea for him to even move here?

Selfishly, you still really wanted him to.

It was another day, Saturday to be specific, you were sitting on the couch and Rick's head lay in your lap -mindlessly, you ran your fingers through his hair. It was getting longer now, curling, and he was growing out his stubble -you'd told him frankly that you like both very much.

He had only smiled (the tips of his ears growing pink) and said promptly, "Guess I'll keep doin' it then."

You were happy that you had such an influence, because he was always handsome, but there was something special about having your very own Rick. Not the one when you were kids, not the one from his marriage with Lori, yours. With a kiss of curly hair and stubble.

"You really like the hair, don't ya?" He mumbled out, half-focused because of the rhythmic motion of your hand. It was cute, he was cute.

You hummed, happily -staring down at him, "I love your curls."

He smiled a little, cheeks dusting pink -you absentmindedly let your other hand brush against them. He kissed your fingertips when he could.

"I don't understand why you never let it grow out when we were kids," you expressed, staring at the baby curls on the top of his head, "-It's so pretty."

"'S hardly pretty," he muttered out.

You frowned, moving your hands to cup his face, ever-so-slightly, "You are very pretty, Grimes. Probably the most beautiful person I've ever seen."

Rick fell quiet, something crossing over his face.

"And if anyone else says otherwise," you moved your hand back to his hair, "-I'll beat the shit out of them."

He choked out a laugh, a big smile radiating up at you -eyes with that look again, you could indulge in it this time, though, "Would ya?"

"Well, yeah," you laughed, "-I smacked Shane, didn't I?"

He suddenly sat up, scooting close to your side and facing you -something in his eyss monstrously delighted, "You smacked Shane?"

"Shit," you gulped -trying to think back, "-did I not tell you that?"

"When?" He urged, and he was nearly jumping in place.

"At his wedding," you clarified, before frowning, "-that really doesn't sound good, does it?"

Rick laughed, roaming closer to you, "You did 'at for lil' old me?"

"He had it coming," you retorted, "-plus, me and Bonnie talked about much worse-"

"God," he said suddenly, using both of his hands to cup your face -leaning forward to connect your foreheads, "-I love you."

"I love you too," you responded, laughing a little, "-Does me slapping Shane really do it for you or?"

He laughed again, a bright twinkle, before settling back, "Just can't remember the last time someone did somethin' for me."

You frowned.

"But, of course, you did," he hummed, looking at you in sheer wonder, "-I didn't even ask ya to do 'at."

"I would hope not," you quipped, and his grin grew brighter, "-and, even from a friend's perspective, the guy deserved it. Deserved his shoes stomped too, but you didn't let me leave your side-"

Rick grinned, pressing a short kiss onto your lips, "I was kinda followin' you around like a lost puppy all night, wasn't I?"

You shook your head, letting out a breath, "It's okay though, I didn't mind."

He smiled at you, all soft and sweet.

"Plus, I asked Bonnie to do it for me-"

He laughed loud, eyes hazy onto your features for a moment. At his staring, all you could do was smile and start to laugh, fluster bubbling up your face. His eyes only shined brighter then, and before you could react, he pushed you down onto the couch -lips coming to find yours as you both burst into laughter.

And maybe it got a little feverish, and maybe it got a little rushed. And maybe he picked you up and carried you off to the bedroom without so much as a stuttered step (all hooded eyes and bright smiles).

But that was between the two of you.

A few months later, it was a weeknight -you had just tumbled through the door off your work shift. You usually got out pretty early, but today had been a rough one. You hadn't been expecting Rick, he was (last you'd known) at his place. Had to go back every month at least once for his check, and he usually stayed for a little bit. The drive wasn't long, but it was long enough to want to be avoided.

So, when you brought yourself through the door, you were expecting an empty apartment. You were exhausted, didn't even want to eat -you just wanted to sleep.

Instead, you walked in with the lights on and some shifting in the kitchen.

"Rick?" You offered, slipping off your shoes and shuffling to the kitchen.

"There ya are," he hummed, spinning around to meet you -before his eyes rested solely on you.

He faltered, dropping whatever he had in his hands gently on the counter (you weren't paying attention) -hands coming to rest on your shoulders. They smoothed there for a second, before he nudged up your chin.

"Bad day?"

"I'm exhausted," you sighed, fully leaning into his hands.

He pursed his lips for a second, moving his hand up to cup your face, "Ya eaten today?"

"This morning," you answered -honestly.

Frowning, his other hand dragged his fingertips over your arm, "'Gotta take better care of yourself, baby. You know 'at."

"Yeah, yeah," you groaned, but not making any motion to move, "-I know."

"I'm serious," he leveled with you, eyes starkly matching yours.

"I know, Rick," you responded, "-I'm just too tired-"

"Ya need to eat," he reinforced, guiding you to the bedroom gently -carefully steps to gently bring you there.

"Then why are you-"

"Sleep," he hummed, hands solidly on your shoulders -pulling aside the blankets, "-I'll bring ya some food in a minute."

"Rick," you looked at him, "-I can-"

"Shush," he pushed you forward but you didn't move, "-baby, lay down."

"Really, I can, it's late, you should sleep-"

"'At's enough," he hummed gruffly, grabbing you by the waist and lugging you over his shoulder.

"Rick!" You nearly squealed.

"Ya weren't workin' with me," he huffed out -trying to hold back a laugh, "-gotta do 'at I 'ave to."

"Okay, okay," you laughed, "-I get your point. You can put me down-"

"Too late," he pulled you forward, gently cradling your head onto the bed, "-already 'ere."

You looked at him for a moment, blue eyes the only thing lit up in the room and something in you softened.

His hand remained under your head, and he was close enough to feel his breath -you mindlessly looked at him. Hands blindly reaching for his face, you pulled him to you -one solid kiss.

As you parted, you still held him there -whispering, softly, "Thank you."

Rick smiled, you could see it in the distant dusting of lighting. Brushing your hands up along his jaw, you found his hair -threading through it for a moment. He leaned forward that time, a simple press of lips.

You smiled.

"Okay," he hummed, gruff and maybe tired, "-I've gotta go make ya some food, darlin'."

You nodded, solidly, "I love you."

"Love ya too," he smiled, leaning forward to kiss your forehead, "-sleep. I'll be 'ere in a minute."

"Okay," you hummed, as he pulled the blanket up over you -slowly sinking into the bed.

Just a few minutes.

You don't know how long you were out with a fuzzy mind and warm dreams. Sleep was always better when you were just tired.

"Hey, baby," his voice echoed out, a little sing-songy. The first thing, other than his voice, you noticed was the gentle smell wafting through the air. You instinctively sniffed, mumbling out.

He hummed, pulling you up, "'S getcha up, okay? Need to eat somethin'."

You groaned but moved with him -pushing the pillows up behind your back. Rick was shifting with you, being the one to primarily move you.

"Pick a show," he hummed, putting the plate on your nightstand and rumbling up to the other side of the bed, "-Let's eat, and then we can sleep again, 'kay?"

You sighed out a breath, rubbing at your eyes, and pulling the plate onto your lap, "You know what I wanna watch, Grimes, you put it on."

"Grumpy, aren't ya?" he huffed with a grin -mindlessly grabbing the remote, and putting on your favorite show.

You hummed, and ate.

There wasn't much said then, the silent hum of the TV and the shuffle of eating filling the air.

Eventually you ended up here, curled into Rick's side with your head on his chest and his arm wrapped tightly around you -fingers massaging your scalp. Your arms wrapped around his chest -as close as you could possibly be. He laughed at you, trying to get as close as you possibly could, but didn't object at all. You would never imagine him to. In fact, he actually pulled you closer -arm wrapped around you solidly.

"I don't know what I would've done if you weren't here," you murmured, low and just under the hum of the TV.

"Not eaten," he replied, teasingly.

You turned to face him, putting your chin on his chest -he simply moved his fingers to the other side, "Rick, I'm serious."

"I know, baby," he hummed, curling his hand behind your ear and trailing down your jaw, "-I know. 'M glad to be 'ere, 'specially wit' you."

You rolled your eyes, "You're cliché, Grimes."

"'At's the way you like it, though," he smiled, brushing his fingertips down your back, "-and I do like keepin' ya happy."

You sighed, trailing a hand up to dance around his jaw, "Ugh, why can't I just keep you here forever?"

There was a silence then, as your fingers fluttered over his skin -ending up at the nape of his neck, digging into curls.

"I could," he said finally, "-be 'ere, there's an openin' on the floor below ya, I asked."

"Rick," you laughed, "-don't be ridiculous."

His face contoured into something a little defensive, "Why is 'at ridiculous-"

"Move in with me," you breathed out.

Rick froze, breath fluttering out of his chest -blue eyes still lazily strolling along your face.

"If you're going to be in the same city for me," you argued, "-why not just be with me?"

He smiled, that dazzling sort of one that just made your heart twist in your chest -always so in love. You still couldn't wrap your head around it.

Fingers still dancing along your back, he countered, "Ya know 'at means Carl too, don't you?"

"Of course, I-" you spoke -a little in disbelief, "-Rick, I know that you and Carl are a package deal. Your kid comes first, I get that."

"Are you sure you wanna-"

"Rick," you reiterated, sitting up fully now and facing him, "-I love you, like crazy. If you think that I don't love him too, you're insane."

"Not everyone's," he paused, and you realized then he had been thinking about this a lot, "-ready for a kid-"

"Rick," you stressed -holding his face to guide to yours, "-I may not be the greatest at... at kids. But I am willing to try, for you and Carl."

His eyes scanned over you, a bit in wonder, like he really couldn't imagine you sat in front of him, asking what you were asking.

"I just-" he started, "-I wanna make sure you're sure. It's a big deal, and... I don't wanna scare ya away."

Again hung through the air for a moment.

"You're stuck with me," you readjusted your hands -cupping his face, "-I got away once but now you are stuck with me, Grimes. And Carl is a part of you. That means I'm stuck with him too, okay?"

Rick pursed his lips, like he hadn't expected this and something in your heart sunk.

"I'm sorry I ever made you feel like I wouldn't accept Carl-"

"No, you never-" he sighed big and long, eyes dropping to his lap for a moment, he sniffled, "-I just..."

You tilted his face back up to meet yours, and your eyes took in the tears settled in his eyes, you waited for him to talk. Mindlessly, your thumbs rubbed them away -patient.

"I never thought I'd get this after Lori," he cried, soft and just for you to hear, "-I always thought with Carl, people would never-"

You shifted onto his lap, straddling, pulling his head forward into your shoulder -fingers threading into his curls. Your other hand wrapped around his back, rubbing small little circles in its stead.

He cried into your skin for a moment, just tears creeping out of somewhere they had long settled. You wondered how long he'd been holding onto this.

You frowned at the thought, turning your head to kiss his jaw quickly.

"I'm sorry," you muttered out.

Rick seemed to want to move up and say something but you kept him there -gently carding through his hair with your fingers. He didn't put up much of a fight.

"I'm sorry for what she did to you," you clarified, before pulling his face back in front of you, "-really, I am."

"I'm not-"

"I know you're past it, Rick," you hummed, hand smoothing down the side of his face, "-doesn't mean you ever got what you deserved, an apology."

He opened his mouth, but you kept going.

"Just because you adapted," you presented, "-doesn't mean it can't still hurt, Rick. I know it doesn't hurt because of Lori anymore-"

He stared at you wordlessly, like he was desperately trying to listen.

"-but it's okay if it hurts for different reasons," you explained, gently rubbing your fingertips along his jaw, "-Your trust was broken by someone you loved, it's okay to be scared that it might happen again."

Rick hummed for a moment, eyes darting all over your face -like he was trying to figure out what to say. You merely waited patiently, in silence.

"I... I'm scared. Not that you'll... I trust ya, I do. It's just-"

"Rick, baby, stop," you interrupted him, meeting his eyes again, "-you don't have to explain yourself to me."

"But you-"

"Rick," you laughed a little, hands coming to rest on his shoulders -his eyes stayed squarely on you, "-you experienced something and reacted to it. I'm not taking that personally, you were hurt and now you don't want to be hurt again."

He seemed a little stunned, unsure of his own words. You took it as a motion to keep talking.

"I can tell you that I won't hurt you again, and maybe you'll believe it," you offered, "-but because someone broke that trust, there is gonna be a part of your brain that doesn't-"

His fingers brushed against your face for a moment, like he was grounding himself -listening to the words you were saying.

"-and that's not your fault or mine," you clarified, effectively shushing him, "-and we're gonna do our best to fix it, okay?"

Rick stared at you, a little in awe.

"Together," you reiterated, before adding on -less confidently, "-if you want to."

He didn't say anything.

"And," you cleared your throat, suddenly a little flustered with his sole attention and the ever-growing silence, "-you don't have to move in if you're not ready, that's a... a given."

You snapped your mouth shut, eyes dancing along his face -trying to read anything on it. All you got was wonder, and disbelief.

"Uh," you laughed, nervously, "-Rick? Are you... okay?"

He seemed to blink then, eyes clear of their haze, "Shit, sorry, I..."

His tone faltered off again, eyes dashing over you like you weren't even real; he just seemed so shaken by everything. You weren't sure exactly what to do.

"Shit, again, I-" He started, swallowing, "-I mean, yes to all of it."

"You want to move in?"

"Yeah," he repeated like it was the most obvious answer in the world, "-yeah, I want... I want it all."

You raised an eyebrow, asking for clarification.

"I want your help," he spoke, hands trailing up to properly cup your cheek, "-I need your help, I wanna be better. I wanna think... better."

You hummed, raising a hand to come up on top of his -turning and pressing a kiss to his palm, "Okay."

There was a silence then, as he looked at you and you looked at him. It was like a shift, somehow your relationship ticked -like suddenly it wasn't just love but a relationship. Intertwined lives, and goals to better each other; it felt different and you wondered if it was still the same-

"I get the baby thin' now," Rick murmured out, fingers playing with the neck of your shirt.

You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to remember, "Did I call you baby?"

"Mhm," he confirmed, "-'s really... special to hear it. Feels nice."

"Wait, so," your fingers danced around his chest, "-what are you saying, baby?"

Rick grinned, something twinkling in his eye, "Really? You gonna do this now?"

"Oh, yeah, baby," you laughed.

He smiled, fingers brushing over your cheekbones -blue eyes languid over your figure, "'Sure ya wanna do 'at tonight?"

You paused, noting the exhaustion deep in your skin and the sleep-slur of his words.

"Okay," you decided, yawning and nuzzling into his chest, "-fine. Tomorrow."

Rick pulled you into his chest -brushing his fingers along your back, something telling in his voice but everything else so casual, "Whatever ya want, baby."

"Rick-"

Yep, you realized, still the exact same.

[danielmolloystits]

a study in collectivist post-dissolutive reconciliation tactics (armand/lestat/daniel/louis, 1/1)

Summary:

The Polycule Break-Up Sex Fic

Rating: M Pairing: M/M/M/M (Armand/Lestat/Daniel/Louis) WC: ~1300

It is harder than one might expect to divide the property of four vampires after a break-up. They’ve been at it for hours and are still only halfway through their wardrobe.

“Lestat, I’m assuming this ‘Baby Slut’ crop top belongs to you?” Louis asks with a raised eyebrow, holding the offending garment up for inspection.

“Mmm, non,” Lestat replies. “Though I would look fantastic in it, I’m sure.”

Daniel snorts. “Well, it isn’t mine.”

They all look to Armand.

“It was on sale,” he sniffs haughtily. “And the shopgirl said it made me look ‘cunty.’”

“I think I’m gonna miss you most of all, Scarecrow,” Daniel says, and he means it. Armand was always his favorite. Too bad their relationship was functionally a crash course in medieval torture techniques. They really could’ve been something, if not for that.

Armand’s eyes are wide and sincere, like fiery dinner plates. “I’m going to miss you too, Daniel.”

“Nope, nope, no,” Louis interrupts, shaking his head. “We’re not doing this again. Remember how it ended last time? You caused a regime change. We’re ending this for a reason.”

“It was only a small one.” The eldest vampire’s pout is deadly, Daniel thinks. Armand Trembling Lip Incident, No Survivors. He can’t help himself; he reaches out and squeezes Armand’s hand. Armand smiles softly at him in return.

Louis groans. “I’m going to kill you two if you don’t cut it out.”

“You mean like you tried to kill me?” Lestat asks, hands on hips. “Tell me, Louis, how did that go for you the last time?”

“When are you going to let that go, it was over a century ago—”

“Maybe I could ‘let it go,’ as you say, if you were not so determined to break my heart at every possible turn, Louis—”

“Oh, I’m breaking your heart, am I?” Louis asks. “At least I’m not breaking your spine!”

“That was one time!” Lestat throws his hands up, exasperated. “And I apologized for it!”

“Guys,” Daniel interrupts, pulling away from where he had been making out with Armand. Armand whines and tries to pull him back in by his jacket. “This might not be productive.”

Louis stares at them, dumbfounded. “Have you looked at yourself lately? You think you’re in any position to tell me what is or isn’t productive?”

Daniel blinks at Louis. “Sorry, what did you say?” Armand is kissing his neck, now. It’s very distracting.

“Oh my God.” Louis rubs an exasperated hand over his face. “I cannot with you people.”

“Wait, no, Louis,” Lestat says, his expression that of a man having an epiphany. “I think they have the right idea.”

Louis looks like he wants to tear his hair out. “Jesus Christ, not you too!”

“No, lover, hear me out,” Lestat protests, an excited glint in his eye. “We have many unresolved feelings, no? That is the source of our amorous woes.”

“What’s your point?”

“What if we,” he gestures obscenely with one hand, “resolved them?”

Armand lifts his head from where he’s been busying himself with trying to give Daniel a hickey. “I agree with Lestat.”

“You agree with Lestat?” Daniel asks, shocked. “You never agree with Lestat.”

“Yes, I’m making an exception in this case.” For what it’s worth, he doesn’t seem all that pleased about it. “Because I would like to have sex with you.” He gazes up at Louis with his big owl eyes, then, and adds, “All of you.”

“Finally, someone here sees sense!” Lestat crows. “Louis, take your top off.”

While Louis sputters indignantly, Daniel shrugs. “Fuck it, I’m game.”

Louis seems very close to screaming. “What is wrong with you idiots ?” Then Lestat leans over to whisper something in his ear; Daniel can make out the words If you participate, I’ll do that thing where I... before he decides to tune it out. Whatever it is, it makes a dark flush rise to Louis’s cheeks. He pauses. Coughs. “Maybe it’s not such a bad idea after all.”

“Excellent,” Armand says, once more making himself comfortable Daniel’s lap. “Beloved, please do me the kindness of removing your clothing.”

“How am I supposed to do that with you on top of me?” Daniel asks, bemused.

“You’re sufficiently enterprising to figure it out.”

Lestat, meanwhile, is already naked and working on removing Louis’s clothing for him. Louis is swatting his hands away. “I can do it myself, Lestat.”

Lestat pouts, and it isn’t quite as devastating as Armand’s, but it’s still potent enough that it could risk causing an international incident. “But that’s so much less romantic.”

“May I remind you,” Louis begins calmly, “that we are breaking up? Am I the only one here who remembers that?” But then Lestat is on his knees, working on undoing Louis’s pants, and Louis is burying his hands in Lestat’s hair, and whatever other protests he may have had die on his tongue.

Armand is, evidently, growing impatient with Daniel’s lack of nudity. “How attached are you to this shirt?” He doesn’t wait for an answer before he’s shredding it off of Daniel with his claws like a cat on a scratching post.

Regrettably, Daniel finds it really hot. Still, he can see the way Armand is eyeing his jeans and reckons he probably needs to put a stop to it before those get destroyed, too. He lifts his ex-boyfriend off of his lap and stands, and Armand makes this noise like he’s been mortally wounded, but then Daniel kisses him and the fucking gremlin just melts into it like he’s forgotten about his aspirations of disrobing Daniel entirely.

While Daniel is busy juggling the tasks of unbuckling his belt and subduing this wet-eyed creature with affection, like he’s hiding an animal’s medication in peanut butter, he can hear the telltale slurping sounds of Lestat going down on Louis with great enthusiasm.

“Mmmanhel, Mahman, mmph mff,” Lestat says.

Louis seems like he’s attempting not to laugh and moan simultaneously. “It’s impolite to talk with your mouth full, Lestat.”

There’s the slick pop of Lestat pulling off of him, and a pointed silence that Daniel assumes is punctuated with a tremendously bitchy look. “I was trying to tell our former paramours to get over here and join us.”

And, well, Daniel isn’t about to argue with that.

“Uh-uh,” Daniel argues, looking at the whiteboard Lestat has gotten to diagram his proposed configuration of bodies. It looks a bit like a Gordian knot of limbs. “I’m too old for that. You’re gonna make me throw my back out.”

“You can fly,” Louis says flatly.

“Yes, beloved.” Armand kisses him on the cheek. “I do believe you lost that excuse when I turned you.”

“Fine, but if my legs get tired, me and Lestat are switching places,” Daniel mutters.

Lestat grins. “Magnifique!” He gestures with his marker. “Now, I think it will be easiest if we start with Louis…”

When they’re lying in the afterglow, looking at one another with the softness that tends to accompany a truly earth-shattering orgasm, Daniel’s gaze drops to Lestat, who is sleeping nestled under the crook of his arm.

“Do you think…” he starts slowly, testing the waters.

Louis finishes the thought for him: “That maybe we shouldn’t break up after all?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d been considering that as well,” Armand says, from where he’s curled at the foot of their bed.

Louis shrugs the shoulder that isn’t wrapped around Daniel. “Might be worth a shot.”

Lestat, eyes still closed, smiles, and Daniel grins in return. Theirs might not be a perfect relationship, but it is theirs.

(And besides, it’ll probably be at least another month before they break up again.

There are worse things, anyway—the make-up sex is always spectacular.)

[twyftwyt]

Chapter 4 (TEASER)

…you have more pieces of me than the desert has sand

and i have less pieces of you than i can hold in my hand…

warnings: SMUT (18+)

authors note: we’ll slowly get into the drama and angst and unresolved traumas but i just wanted to give these two a few last moments of physical intimacy

(also listen to this while reading, I promise it’s good and it’s important for the storyline)

Noah’s POV

“My therapist will hear about this” was not really the first thing I expected to see when I grabbed my phone and opened X, this morning, but here we were. I looked over to the naked body sleeping next to me and felt my stomach twist a little. I wanted to throw up. Something I haven’t felt in a while. Not when it came to women and relationships whatsoever. I knew what I did was wrong and stupid. I knew I could’ve just gone home to think it through but there was something about her. Something I couldn’t figure out yet. And it kept me coming back time and time again. I’ve spoken to my therapist about her a few times but never really gotten that deep into the whole subject. It seems like she will have to hear about this after all, cause I was lost.

I looked at her again and traced my finger through her hair. She shifted a little in her sleep. “Beautiful. Fucking beautiful.” I thought. The sheet wasn’t covering much of her body and my eyes peered over the arch in her back. Her left foot was curled next to mine and her skin was exuding so much warmth. The outline of her breast and the way her arm was curled up under the pillow made my dick twitch and I felt the need to touch her.

“No.” was my immediate thought. Not after last night. Not after what I did. So I decided to do the best thing I could come up with, the most rational thing any man in my position would do. I got up and started looking for my clothes. Yes, I was going to leave before she wakes up. Was that an even bigger dick move? Yes. Was I gonna regret this later? Probably not. Cause I was already regretting it.

“Mmh… No..Noahh..”

My head snapped back so fast I felt my neck crack and was almost certain that I wasn’t going to be able to look straight for a few minutes. She looked like she was still sleeping. I went over to her side to take a double look. The sheet was barely covering anything but her ankles at this point and her naked body was fully exposed to me. And god, was it a sight to see.

“Noah…”

Yes, that’s me. I’m here. And I look fucking stupid with my hard on, my bare ass and my socks in my hands. Her body shifted a little and I realized that she was taking in her sleep. I thought I’d give anything to be in her head right now, in this very moment.

“Y..yes, plea… please, No.. NOAH.”

My eyes were glued to her face and her own snapped open after that last scream. If I’ve never felt like a creep before, now was my time to shine.

“What the…” she was more shocked then me, for sure.

“That was a nice dream you were having, I reckon.”

I smiled at her, sitting down on her side of the bed. I saw the red creep up her cheeks and she covered herself swiftly with the sheet, still trying to wake up from whatever she was dreaming about.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen already, babe. Plus I was enjoying the view. And the acoustics with it.”

I could feel the heat radiating from her and I knew I had to stop, but she was so cute when she was embarrassed.

“I, uhm.. I don’t know..”

“I mean, I take it as a compliment. I’m sleeping right next to you and you’re dreaming about me.”

“Don’t. Stop.”

“Well, it was more of a “yes, please, Noahh”, but “don’t stop” works just fine as well, I guess.” I shrugged and smirked at her.

Her hand flew so fast and the next thing I felt was a slap across my naked chest.

“Shut up. What are you doing up?”

Yeah, go explain now, dumbass. “Oh, nothing, just sneaking out, you know. Something every single respectable man, out there, would do.” I didn’t know what to say, so I just stared at her.

“Noah? Earth to Noah?!”

“Yeah, sorry. I was just about to go retrieve our clothes from.. all over the house, I guess. If your roommate hasn’t already found them.”

“Oh… yeah. You’re right. Fuck. Well, won’t be the first time.” she shrugged and let the sheet fall off her shoulders

I knew I wasn’t in a position to even try and touch her. I felt guilty in my core and all I wanted to do was apologize, but I never knew how. All I knew was running. I always ran when things got too serious, too deep, too complicated. I guess what they say about living in a burning house and thinking everything is on fire all the time, is really true after all.

I was so lost in thought that I didn’t notice her body moving close to mine and jumped when her lips touched my left cheek and traced a wet line to my ear.

“Maybe we don’t have to get our clothes just yet.”

Fuck. Her breath was hot against my neck and all the hairs on my body stood on ends. It was almost pathetic how much my body responded to her every touch. I really was weak for her and she didn’t even know it. Not fully. Not really. She probably didn’t believe me either. I was always manipulating every situation after all.

“Y/N, I’ve to go. I have a meeting with the management in 2 hours.”

Not entirely true. It was in 4 hours. I had plenty of time to give her a couple of orgasms and get a coffee on the way home, but I didn’t want to exploit the situation.

“Mmh..no. Stay. A quickie. You’re halfway there anyway.”

She was looking down at my junk. And she was right. I didn’t need much. I had everything I wanted in front of me. Naked. And fucking divine.

“I know we didn’t talk things through. I know what’s going through your mind. Stop overthinking it. Stop overthinking us. It’s always a dead end. And I don’t wanna talk about it for now. I just want you. I want to feel you inside again.”

Her fingers traced mine and she started dragging my fingers up her thigh. She was warm and smooth and soft. So soft. She was putty in my hands. She was mine. I didn’t need to power play things. She gave in. Always. No one could take her from me. And she didn’t even need to tell me. I knew the power I held over her. She was water. And she was flowing through every single part of my being.

“Feel what you do to me.” she placed my hand right at the center “And feel it again.” and then guided one of my fingers between her folds “And again.” then added a second one “And then feel it again until you can’t feel it anymore.”

No, she wasn’t water in my hands. I was water. And she was the moon. And I shifted according her plan and energy. I moved at her speed. I was under her control and spell. She had me, not the other way around. I was hers entirely. And so I gave her what she wanted. I buried my fingers so deep inside of her, I felt her whole badly shake under my weight.

The world could wait.

“Lay down and spread your legs for me.”

[420thewritersroom]

Got That Cursed Dawg in Him

Whoo-ie, this took slightly longer than intended. I wanted to gift this piece to @averageludwig simply because I LOVE LOVE LOVE their art and their pieces of the Demoman & Soldier makes my heart do backflips AND front flips. This is also highly inspired by @waterwindow art on Twitter that I think about daily, on top of that I love their art and their pieces on Demo & Soldier too.

This is also my first time writing anything involving the TF2 peeps, and I feel like it shows a lot when writing dialogue for the Soldier and Demoman (I didn't bother with doing written accents because...no, not skilled or patient enough to bother with that lol).

Before we continue, just wanted to do a bit of housekeeping, BLU Soldier is named John Doe (full name Johnathan Dodger) and is essentially a BLU Team OC. Same with the BLU Demoman, their name is Harvey (full name Harvey MacLennan). So for those who are confused on why the Soldier is named John instead of Jane, that's why. I also like to interpret the BLU Soldier to be a tad bit smarter (still a massive himbo). Anyway, I hope you enjoy the read!

Characters: RED Demoman (Tavish Finnegan DeGroot), BLU Soldier (John Doe), BLU Demoman (Harvey Maclennan)

Word Count: 2,058

Ships: RED Demoman/BLU Soldier (Boots n Bombs) if you squint

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence (it's not too gratuitous, but it's there), Unresolved Tension, mentions of murder, BLU Soldier is too dumb to not escalate situations to worse heights

John strains to keep himself upright, wobbly staying on his feet as he looks at the RED Demoman across from him under his helmet. Pained breaths escape him as he readjusts the grip on his shovel, having lost his rocket launcher in the fight long ago.

"Tavish," it hurts to talk as John forces himself to try to reach his former friend again, "Tavish, you need to snap out of it!"

He has tried, time and time again, since this fight reignited, to get Tavish to stop this bloodshed he was subjecting both teams to. John said he could talk him out of this blood-frenzied stupor that the RED Demoman was under, that there was no need to trap Tavish in the Respawn system. Or worse, cut him off from it completely. He can be reasoned with. He's one of the most reasonable men with both teams combined.

"You have to let go of that sword, Tavish. You can't let whatever commie trickery that thing is plaguing you with take over. For your sake, listen to me!"

The RED Demoman was slumped forward, arms dangling in front of him while holding on tightly to the Eyelander that dripped fresh blood from its blade. Tavish's remaining eye shone with a cursed green, the outcome of constantly feeding the sword the heads of not only the BLU team but RED as well. The usual rogueish charm that the Demolition Man possessed was gone. In its place, a blood-hungry beast that saw neither friend nor foe, but lambs fit for the slaughter. Despite being wholly empowered by the claymore, the body is still flesh and bone. Tavish, or whomever was possessing him, struggled to keep themselves aloft. They have lost too much blood, and Tavish's body protested any further exertion unless treated.

John, however, looked worse for wear. His uniform was ripped and in tatters, revealing the white tanktop below, which was also showing signs of damage. He lost FAR more blood than Tavish ever did, with multiple cuts that ran deep and oozed his essence all over his attire and on the dirt below. Breathing was haggard and painful for the BLU Soldier to do. Hell, existing was riding him up a wall as hours of fighting and dodging were catching up with him. The only reason he was still kicking was thanks to the few health kits and bottles that were littered about, the dispenser that his team Engineer set up for him (that was now destroyed at this point), and their resident nurse giving him a buff before the confrontation. But his resources were running thin. He practically ran this entire battlefield dry of its health kits and ammo, his rocket launcher and shotgun now only having a single shell and maybe two rockets for him to utilize.

"Heads," a ghostly snarl escapes not from the claymore but from Tavish's mouth, dripping like poison in John's weary ears. "Heads…Heads," the body continued to utter as it tried to inch closer to John. Tavish's body, exhausted from the fight, struggled to place one foot after the other, stumbling here and there as every nerve was demanding that this being stop and let it rest.

John can barely think. He tried talking to Tavish, but nothing was getting through to him. Every plea, insult, and statement was greeted with unbridled violence and horrific screams. Any strategy the war veteran could think of was leaking from his ears (or maybe that's just blood now that he's thinking about it). As Tavish's body lumbered closer, John scrambled mentally on what to do. Shooting Tavish will send him to respawn and will provoke the RED team to damn Tavish to whatever fate they opted to do. But he can't fight him either. Should whatever's controlling the Scotsman gain a second wind, John will be sent through the ringer instead, failing in his mission and pushing both teams to definitely kill Tavish.

Tavish was now within arm's length of the Soldier, scrapping the Eyelander beside him on the dirt ground and ready to swing the weapon at John's head. John isn't sure what compelled him to do this. Perhaps he was hinging on the possibility that their past friendship still lingered somewhere in Tavish's mind. Maybe it was a final distraction tactic he opted to pull out from under the possessed Demoman's feet. Regardless of what the reasons were, John pushed himself to get dangerously close to the deranged Demoman.

And he kissed him.

The kiss might as well be two kids on the playground pressing lips together, thinking this is "how adults kiss" or woeful virgins awkwardly "kissing" each other. The sensuality was lost between the two of them; their lips connected, but the desire that usually comes with it was in the other room.

Yet, John couldn't help but feel his heart flutter a bit. He tells himself that it's just the adrenaline and fatigue that caused his heart to skip a beat, kicking away the dawning fear that he might still harbor the same feelings that he felt all those years ago; before their fallout, before the Demoman betrayed his trust. But despite these affirmations he tried to hammer into his head, his lips still lingered far too long than they should have. But it must be doing something; Tavish has yet to raise his Eyelander at him.

John mentally had to rip himself away from the Demoman, quickly stepping back should the RED fiend decide to take a swipe at him. What he saw before him took him aback as the RED Demoman stared at the BLU Soldier with a wide eye. The color of Tavish's remaining eye no longer glowed a misty green, but it wasn't back to the usual brown that it was before. Instead, his eye was a startingly alluring emerald green.

"…Tavish?" John says carefully.

There's a brief moment of silence between the two, and John decides to take further initiative in this temporary standstill. "Tavish, you have to give me the sword. You're out of control, out of line, even for someone of your expertise."

The Demoman remained still, his face filled with foggy confusion as he seemingly was slowly coming to his senses. John took this moment of uncertainty to his advantage as he leisurely reached for the sword.

"If you don't let go of this communist contraption you found, they'll kill you. You hear me? They. Will. Kill. You, Maggot," despite the insult, it held none of the searing bite that it usually conveys. John silently thanks his helmet for shadowing his eyes as he used the concealment to prevent the RED Demoman from seeing him eyeing his sword.

"You may not be a red, white, and blue-blooded American, but I know you can fight whatever has plagued your English-muddled brain." John was so close to the sword that he could taste it. Just a millimeter longer, and he'll end this nightmare once and for all-

Tavish's eye suddenly flares in anger, shoving John away from him and placing extra distance from the BLU Soldier. "Then let them kill me. Maybe Heaven or Hell will have more use for me than this wasteland of a state!"

John stares at Tavish dumbfounded, his helmet slightly ajar to glimpse his blue eyes. "Tavish, you don't know what you're saying-"

"I know EXACTLY what I'm saying. Haven't had a drop of scrumpy since I've started this rampage."

So he was aware? All this time?

"What? You think I'm that ill-willed to just LET a dead son of a bitch take me over without an inch of a fight, eh? I fought the goddamn loche, read a cursed book, and lost me eye for it."

Not a single word was slurred or interrupted by an untimely burp. John was lost for words, unsure of how to respond.

"But, why? You're terrorizing both teams consorting with that weapon, letting it whisper Russian nonsense into your ears!"

"Firstly, this sword isn't from fucking Russia; let's put that through your tin-canned skull first. Secondly, I let it take over because I allowed it."

"But WHY?" Soldier couldn't restrain his growing impatience, his tone resorting back to his usual drill sergeant demeanor.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Don't back sass me, you one-eyed Scot son of a bitch. Your whiskey-drinking life is on the goddamn line."

"See, that right there," the Demoman points at the Soldier accusingly, "Maybe if you'd stop with those demeaning jokes, we wouldn't be in this mess!"

"Jokes? It's what you are, Tavish! You have one eye, and you drink! What else am I supposed to call-" John stops himself, his mind finally clicking back into gear and understanding where Tavish was coming from. "Ah, so drinking wasn't enough, was it? Gotta bully everyone else, all because of your own damn insecurities, is that it?"

"You shut your bucket-wearing trap," Tavish growled, his remaining eye threatening John with a ghostly mist.

"Maybe if you actually faced your own demons instead of trying to drown them out with whiskey and blood, you'd be half the man you wished you were."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Tavish's eye becomes fully enveloped in the same cursed green color as his fury rises to new heights. "YOU HAVE LITTLE ROOM TO TALK FOR SOMEONE WHO WAS PLACED IN A MENTAL HOSPITAL FOR DECIMATING THEIR WHORE OF A GIRLFRIEND!"

Though this should've struck a cord in John, it instead made his spine and skin run cold as a shiver coursed through him. Nevermind that Tavish screamed to the heavens a secret he wished was left buried in its grave, but John completely lost the plot of what he was supposed to be doing. If anything, he reignited and made worse the Demoman's conviction to fucking kill him.

"T-Tavish, wait," John tried to backpedal, kicking himself mentally for letting his emotions run his mouth. But it was too late. The familiar sounds of Tavish's ungodly screams came rushing at him, and he had little time to run. Hell, he even tripped on himself attempting to run away from the bull that was the RED Demoman.

Thank his stars and garters that the Eyelander clanged against steel instead of his flesh and bone.

John is unsure when the BLU Demoman appeared or where they came from, but he was slightly grateful that the demolitionist stood between him and the willfully possessed Tavish.

"We gave you ten minutes, you took an hour, and we waited, John," Harvey's soft voice pierced through John like a hot knife to butter.

John panics as the possibility of Tavish meeting a fate worse than death becomes a painful inevitability in his mind. He scrambles through his words, thoughts not connecting to his lips, "Harv, please, just give me more time-"

"I gave you all the time in the world, Soldier. But something has to be done," Harvey grunts, and his words felt cold to the touch, but he does not raise his voice. Keeping a steady tone that, to an untrained ear, he might as well be as serene as a monk.

The BLU Demoman ends the standstill between him and his RED counterpart, building distance by kicking Tavish away with amazing strength. A prowess even the BLU Soldier didn't know his BLU companion possessed.

The RED Demoman's back slams against the outer walls of one of the buildings. With that previous stalemate, Tavish's body felt a renewed vigor as it slumped forward, and from his mouth, a familiar, venomous hiss escaped his lips, "Heads."

"If there's anything good that came out of your distraction, most of BLU have convened with RED, and they're plotting what to do with this beast once it's down." Harvey tilts his head to look at John, "Either you join them, or you help me keep this monster down."

John, from under his helmet, lingers between the two Demomen, searching through his mind how he can still salvage this situation. Ultimately, he settles on helping Harvey in the moment, and hopes to contain Tavish should they weaken him again. The BLU Soldier gets back on his feet, shovel in hand and stands with his BLU companion.

"I know you both have history, but that can not hold you back from doing what must be done, Johnathan," the BLU Demoman softly says.

"I know," John answers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey, you made it to the end of the story, congrats :D

My main inspiration for making this piece, aside from Waterwindow's art piece, was because I have yet to see anyone put Demoman in the "unwillingly or willingly becomes possessed by an entity that takes over their body completely and they're so deep in the possession sauce that they require the power of friendship to save them or have to be put down like a dog for the sake of the world" trope, and I decided to clumsily make this a reality.

I can just imagine, especially when he gains the Eyelander and his friendship with the BLU Soldier is broken, that Tavish goes through a spiral of emotions as he questions his self-worth and feels guilty for betraying his friend all for a cursed sword. And his guilt and self-hatred eats up at him and he becomes vulnerable to the influence of the Eyelander and lets the sword put him on auto pilot, allowing the spirit within to go on a mindless rampage against both RED and BLU team.

[wiredaughter]

day one = depression;

Corrupting

b.p.r.d. // abe sapien×ofc // unresolved angst // first person pov // amoral oc // ao3

Grief. What an alien word. So often associated with loss, and loss I know, but whatever this is I don’t. I’m more prone to anger and avoidance, but there’s nothing left in me at this, at Sapien’s…  Abraham’s motionless body suspended in a test tube of sorts. It's like those directories have been overwritten, leaving me to crash. And crash I do. Anger would be easy, at Devon and Manning and Corrigan and the whole bureau, since I’ve never cared about precision in my wrath. At Hellboy for leaving and Sherman for disappearing, even at the homunculus for dying off. 

Only Johann Kraus joins me in my watch, when he's not away on a mission. You'd think they'd given that up, world going to shit and all. You’d think he’d say more encouraging things, as a ghost psychic, but I don’t have it in me to resent him his uselessness. I think he thinks I appreciate the company, but I’m beyond caring. I join him as he leaves now, figure I could use a shower, only to run into Andrew Devon in the hallway. He was there when Abraham got shot, like as not he did it himself. I’m reminded I’m alive by the loathing that bubbles up my throat. 

‘You’re dead, Devon!’ Not my brightest, but I’m bereaved if you’ll allow it.

He mutters some smart reply or other, but I only barely hear it. I’m sliding off Kraus’ preventative hold on my shoulder, even if he doesn't know my suspicions he knows there's no love lost between us with the way he bought into the Black Flame's assertions, and shoving my way past Devon and, were his mates here all along? And the gutter psychic? Unimportant. Everyone’s so irrelevant. I just notice her because she was there too when it happened, they could all be here or in hell like I care.

It’s all the same when I go back in, alone now. I don’t know what I’m doing, but there’s no other place for me here. And next to him, much to Manning’s chagrin, I spend my days. I lay my hands on the glass, step away, reach out with my thoughts trying to make any contact. Trying to find anything to make contact with. I stare. At some points I even trick myself to think I’ve seen his fingers twitch, his eyelids flutter. No use.

Just like I'm no use now. I don't forget the entire planet is under attack, it's more like a secondary thought for me. To hell with the bureau and the country and the entire earth. There's outbreaks, giant bat beasts or whatever it is this week, my father writes from safety. It's only that last one I spare a thought to, but can't bring myself to reply. I've ran into an unhandled exception and I'm, for once in my life, unable to debug.

It’s over, eventually. His vitals crash, and the whitecoats suspect extensive brain damage. Even Kraus says his soul is fighting to leave. Well and good, so should I. I don’t make an attempt to hold my tears back, I let them out freely for I won’t need them where I’m going. And I'm going; I feel the code of my life corrupting, line by line. I wasn’t able to save Abraham from his own bleeding heart, but I’ll still make sure those who pushed him to this pay. 

I’m in every computer here, should have thought of that before they made me head of R&D, I know of the correspondence between the higher ups and the Zinco frauds. As fate would have it, I’m also in their system, thanks to a polymorphic I piggybacked through Manning’s emails. They’re, as only I understand it, the enemy. Now I’ll be the enemy too. Sapien thought honesty would win this, get the bureau to actually work with the special agents instead of working them. He’d be horrified if he knew I’m to defect for the frog terrorists, but that’s just a distant consideration to me. He was wrong and now he’s as good as dead. He’s as good as dead, and now I’m going to make them sorry.

[helaelaemond]

my problem with Ewan is … i usually fall for older guys (unresolved daddy issues, no surprise there), but then i see him and i find out he’s exactly my age and there is this klick “oh… i can feel attracted to guys my age” and my brain has been a mush since and even i know, i know i have less than 0 chance… i can’t seem to shut him and his cuteness out if my brain 😭🫠

I say this with genuine love in my heart but it sounds like you’ve stepped across that line into a parasocial relationship which might not be the healthiest for you.

From my own perspective, I think a lot of people feel so drawn to him because there’s very little known about him, so fantasies can be projected onto him. All fans really know is that he seems kind, reserved, and well-liked by colleagues, and he’s a talented and skilled actor. Beyond that, it’s so easy to mould him in the mind into the perfect man, or whatever.

I’m glad he’s been an awakening for you! But please continue to remind yourself that you genuinely have no chance with him, you’re not going to meet him and he’s not going to fall in love with you.

You WILL meet someone in your real life, though, who you’ll be attracted to and who’s attracted to you in return! And it’s so important to not hold the people around you to the standard of Ewan that you’ve created in your head.

I hope this doesn’t come across as patronising or mean, and I’m happy to joke abt “if Ewan met you he’d want to fuck you for sure” but I also don’t want to feed into fantasises that are perhaps getting a little out of hand. Mwah sending you love!

[yee-fxcking-haw]

•Don't Say His Name•

Summary: This is a part two to Forget That Extra! There will at the very least be a third part, since this one ends unresolved and I have SO MUCH of the story left in my brain.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader (both Bakugo and Reader are aged up to 18+)

Warnings: Rough sex, degredation, impact play, ddlg terms, unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, a sprinkling of knife play, fingering, ruined orgasm, Dom Bakugo, Brat/masochist reader, tiny bit of angst.

Word Count: 6,115

Part One • Part Three

A/N: As far as tagging goes, I tagged those that commented on part one, and those that liked the post about this part. If you would like added/removed just let me know!

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

You walk down the hallway with all the confidence in the world. "You're my woman now." He had said. Katsuki Bakugo's woman. That's you. Walking through his agency covered in bruises he had left, and only he could see. It makes your insides twist and spark with excitement, the idea of belonging to that explosive hero.

You're on your way to his office now, coffee in hand as you try to make an effort at being an actual partner instead of just his play thing. You made sure to get the right kind of milk and sugar, and extra caramel of course. The past few weeks have been all about learning things like that, the little details about each other that exists outside the bedroom or a stuffy closet.

Just as you make the final turn to Katsuki's office, you see a wild flash of green hair and hear an excited voice say your name. A bright smile spreads across Deku's boyish face, cheeks all pink and freckled. He's all dressed up in his hero costume as he bounces towards you before speaking again.

"Hey! On a coffee run for the boss man?" He jokes, nodding at the hot drinks in your hands.

The boss man, right, he's your boss. He should definitely not have been in your guts less than twelve hours ago, and you definitely shouldn't have his teeth marks on your body.

"Oh yeah, either gotta keep him caffeinated or pick up pieces of exploded furniture, and I much prefer the coffee runs to clean up duty." You laugh with him, both of you knowing Bakugo's temperament far too well.

As you laugh your shoulders move a little too much and the strap of your bag falls off, catching on your elbow and nearly jostling the coffee to the point of falling out of the drink carrier.

Deku's reflexes are like lightning as always, before you can object he's taken the coffee as you slip the strap back onto your shoulder. Your cheeks flush as you mumble a bashful thanks then reach for the coffees.

"No I got it, let me walk with you." He says, "Can't risk dropping the precious cargo."

You both share another chuckle as you anxiously adjust your top, trying to tuck it more securely into your plaid skirt.

"Thanks, Deku, I would've been in for it if I had lost that drink."

You both take off down the hall at a rather lazy pace, sharing some pleasant small talk about your days. You find out that he actually just left Katsuki's office, they were going over some boring publicity stuff for their agencies. As you walk you find yourself laughing a lot, especially at Deku's impression of a very grumpy Katsuki.

You've only met Izuku Midoriya a handful of times, mostly in passing like this. Without fail, he's always kind and charming. He's the kind of person that leaves anyone he meets with warm, vanilla tasting feelings.

"Can I ask you something?" He says with a small voice.

"Of course you can." You say as you come up to the door of Katsuki's office.

"This might be a little out of line, and I completely understand if you wouldn't want to, I just- I was uh- I guess I was w-wondering if you maybe would consider grabbing coffee with me?" He trips and stutters his way through his invitation, and goodness it's so fucking cute.

You're floored honestly, of course you'd love to get coffee with him, it's harmless right? It could be, if you make it clear that you're with Bakugo. That's the problem though, being employed by him means you two can't be public about being together. That shit gets messy fast, so you've been sworn to secrecy.

"You're busy though, so I totally understand if you just can't find the time or if you just don't want to or whatever. I just figure you might like actually having coffee with somebody instead of being sent to get it for them, if that makes any sense… s- sorry… this sounded a lot better in my head." As he talks he fidgets with his hands and shifts his feet a little, emerald eyes searching your face for some form of an answer.

"Deku, I'd love to." You say sweetly before he can open his mouth and fumble through more words.

His shoulders drop and his face relaxes.

"Is six tonight ok? We can just meet here so you don't have to give me your address or go to my place, I know that can be uncomfortable sometimes so I figure meeting at a public place would probably make you feel safer- I guess if we-"

"How about you just text me the address of the coffee place you had in mind?" You say gently, interrupting as politely as you can.

You try to keep your voice down, a creeping feeling snaking up your spine. It feels wrong to be making plans like this right in front of your boyfriend's office, if you can call him that. There hasn't really been a lot of discussion about the exclusivity of the relationship, just that he hated the idea of you belonging to anyone else, and that he hadn't been with anyone else… maybe that talk needs to happen soon.

"Huh? Oh, yeah that's a good idea, I would just need to uh- if I wanted to text you I would need-"

"My number?" You giggle as you pull a sticky note and a pen from your bag.

"Uh, yeah, that would be it." He laughs nervously.

You quickly scribble down your number, your heart climbs to your throat as you offer him the paper.

"I'll trade you." You say, nodding to the coffees before sticking the note on his chest.

An adorable blush spreads across his already rosey cheeks.

"Oh yeah, boss man needs his caffeine." He says as you take them.

Just as you accept the drinks back, the office door opens slowly. The twist of the knob makes your chest tighten.

"Oh, there you are. You were taking so long I thought you'd gotten lost." He says gruffly before taking the drink you hold out for him.

His words bite you a little, but you have to just take it for the sake of appearing uninvolved.

"I thought you were leaving?" He asks Deku with a pointed gaze.

"Oh, Kacchan I was, I just uh-"

"He was helping me, I almost dropped the coffee and he was kind enough to carry them for me." You jump in, trying to defuse the tension building between the men in front of you.

You know bits and pieces of their old rivalry, only those that Bakugo let slip. For the most part they've out grown the school yard beef, but Katsuki is competitive, territorial, possessive. You know that it's grinding his gears knowing Deku was there to help you, which might be a fact you can have some fun with.

"So, six works for you?" You ask Izuku, voice laced with honey.

"Oh! Yeah, yeah six is great, I'll see you then." He says, folding the note with your number before sticking it in his pocket.

"I'll see you then, and thank you for the help." You smile, earning a sweet grin from him as he awkwardly shuffles away.

"Oh of course, it's never a problem! Bye Kacchan, thanks again for the meeting!" He damn near hops off down the hallway before disappearing around the corner.

Slowly, you turn to face your lover, apprehension written all over your face. He just sneers down at you before turning sharply into his office. You stand and watch him stalk to his desk, slightly scared to move.

"Get your ass in here, lock the damn door behind you." He says flatly before taking a sip of coffee.

You do as he says, letting the door close quietly before flipping the lock.

"So, I'm assuming you won't be joining me for dinner?" He says as he relaxes into his large desk chair.

"What? No, we can get dinner, I'm just grabbing coffee with Izuku." You explain, trying to sound nonchalant.

You take a nervous glance around his office, and a fond feeling blooms in your chest. It's organized chaos, as he calls it. The desk is covered in little travel tools and makeshift gadgets. He loves to tinker when he can't focus, he says it gets his mind back to a place where he can. He's talented too, could honestly run a whole side business on his creations alone.

The one time you proposed it he shut it down fast, he said he had enough jobs to do, that he wanted to keep his tinkering from becoming work. It brings the smallest smile to your face, but you're ripped away from your dreamy thoughts by the sound of his rough voice.

"First name basis, I see." He mumbles before taking another sip.

You can't help but roll your eyes. It's difficult to discern if he's genuinely irritated by you meeting Izuku, or if he's just trying to egg you on. Either way, you're going to have some fun with it.

"Well people don't usually call their friends by their hero names, do they?" You question as you walk around his desk so you can lean your backside against the edge.

Katsuki turns his chair to face you, glancing over your body once before finding your eyes. His gaze lingers on the undone buttons at the collar of your black top, revealing what you think is a tasteful amount of decolletage.

You sip your own coffee as he analyzes you, seemingly taking the bait.

"Friends?" He asks quietly, quirking an eyebrow.

"Ya know, someone who gets coffee with you instead of sending you on an errand to get some for them?" That was a bold move that will inevitably come back to bite you, but that's exactly what you want.

All of his fine muscles shift and tighten under his well tailored dress shirt as he leans forward in his chair. He places his elbows on his knees, and folds his hands under his chin as he glances up at you through his eyelashes.

A tense moment is spent between you, your chest lights up with nerves just a little bit. You hate it when he's quiet, he's much easier to read when he's mouthy.

"Sounds fun!" He says with far too much enthusiasm as he shoots up from his chair. Before you can reply, he's put his whole body in front of yours. He sets his hands on the desk behind you, efficiently caging you in.

Just like that, the air is hot and thick between you. He looks down his nose at you, waiting for you to answer. His eyes scream "try me" and it makes you dizzy. When you feel his hands slide over your knees, your head spins even more.

Willingly, you let him spread your legs open so he can settle his hips between them. As he moves in your skirt bunches up, revealing where your socks end to expose the thickest part of your thighs. Like a moth drawn to a flame, his hands are on the skin instantly. For some reason, that part of your leg, specifically when they're spilling over some snug thigh highs, makes Bakugo absolutely feral.

"So you don't care if I get coffee with him?" You ask, bringing your hand to tilt his chin up.

Reluctantly, he rips his eyes away from your legs so he can glare at you.

"I don't give a fuck who you get coffee with." He shrugs before sliding his hands up so he can grab your hips with greed.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't disappointed by how little he cares. Where's the guy that fucked your brains out because you simply talked to another dude? You're practically going on a date and he's just… fine with it?

"-But if you're going to get coffee with that damn nerd-" He ducks down and brazenly licks a hot strip up the side of your neck.

The sudden contact makes your eyes flutter as your chest deflates, a shock of heat already thrumming through your core.

"You're gonna do it covered in marks…" He abruptly scrapes his teeth against your throat, easily biting hard enough to create a bruise, as if you don't already have enough.

"... And filled with my cum." The statement makes you gasp, there he is.

His fingertips dig into your hips as he pulls you forward on the best, bringing your crotch flush against his while he looks down at you with a patient expression. The feeling of his hard-on pressing against your core will never get old, it never fails you send shocks up your spine and make your cheeks hot.

You're feeling spunky today, dangerously bold. A terrible idea creeps into your mind, wrapping it's fingers around your common sense.

You slide your hands up his abs, allowing yourself a moment to admire how sturdy he feels. Your hands secure themselves on the folds of his collar so you can bring his face back towards yours.

To mock him, you bring your mouth to his throat and let your tongue drag up his hot skin.

"That's funny." You say with a low voice before you plant a kiss right under his jaw.

"He said the same thing." You punctuate your lie with a nip to his skin.

"Oh you stupid woman." He huffs before he snatches you by the waist and hauls you off the desk. Your legs don't get the chance to hold you up, he spins you around and kicks the back of your knees with his shin, causing you to fall forward immediately.

Once you're kneeling he grabs the hair on top of your head and drags you along beside him. You yelp and grab at his wrist as you try to shuffle after him on your knees. He plants himself in his desk chair, not releasing his hold on your roots for a second.

He pulls your head back slightly, glaring down at you with furious ruby eyes. He looks so delicious like this, dressed in all black, hair and eyes wild as he plans how he'll break you.

His other hand comes up to grab your jaw a little too gently, eyes flashing down to where your skirt is still riding up.

"Are you trying to get hurt?" He asks calmly, thumb running over your chin.

"I'm trying to get fucked." You state simply, dropping your jaw open so you can take his thumb into your mouth.

He watches you carefully, breathing a little heavier when you swirl your tongue around the pad of his thumb before releasing it.

"-But if all you're gonna do is fuck around like this, I think I know somebody who might be up for the job."

All you can register is his face twisting as he realizes which way you're going, before the hand on your jaw pulls back. You brace for the slap, ready to feel the hot pain shoot across your face. Your thighs even clench a little in anticipation, but it doesn't come.

He just chuckles, laughs right in your face as he reaches for the drawer behind him, the hand in your hair releases too.

"Oh, I'm sure he would be." He pulls out a small black bag from the drawer, then slowly unzips it to reveal a wooden paddle.

You can't help but squirm where you sit as you watch him flip it in his hands before turning back to you.

"But there's no way in hell that prick can get you shaking like I can." He sets the paddle on his desk so he can start to roll his sleeves up.

You watch him carefully, nearly drooling over the way his strong forearms flex as he rolls the material of his shirt up. Your hands pull at the bottom of your skirt anxiously, needing to fidget with something desperately.

"I don't know about that, Suki, the shy, quiet ones are usually the nastiest, isn't that right?" You say coyly, trying to regain some control.

You're referring to yourself and he knows it. Hinting at how depraved you can be in the bedroom. You know he's right, he's the only one that can fuck you up the way you need it. It's fun to watch him twitch a little when you hint at Deku being able to compete with him, though.

"Get up here, bend over." He says shortly, neck and shoulders tense.

You're getting to him.

"I think I like it down here, I don't think I want to bend over just yet." You say with a deceptive sweetness.

Feeling bold, you slide your hands up the insides of his thighs, feeling the taught muscle under his dress pants.

Before you can reach his erection, his hands are latched onto you again. One in the back of your hair, the other crushing your throat.

"I fucking dare you, disobey me one more time. You will end up with a busted ass and a ruined orgasm, that's a fucking promise." He snarls at you, bending down so he can glare right into your soul.

His threats don't do a damn thing to calm your rebellious streak, if anything, it lights a fire under your desire to be the biggest fucking brat.

"The busted ass part doesn't sound too bad." You struggle to get the words out, working against the harsh grip on your throat.

He rolls his eyes before almost throwing you out of his hands. He sends one to the collar on the back of your shirt, and the other slides around the back of your thigh. With the new hold he roughly hoists you into his lap. You can't help but squeak when your stomach hits the tops of his thighs. Your knees barely touch the ground and your hands grab at the desk in front of you, trying to steady yourself.

He flips your skirt up and smooths a hand over the curve of your ass.

"Oh trust me, you'll fucking get it." He sends his hand cracking across your cheek, earning an involuntary moan from you.

Your body responds to the sharp pain immediately, cunt clenching and inevitably soaking your panties even more than they already are. You glance back at him as he rubs over the welt he's just created.

"These are cute." He says with a bored voice as he pulls at the string of your thong with one finger.

They're nothing special, a simple pink fabric thong. You didn't put on anything special since you were definitely not anticipating a situation like this to arise. A little foolish now that you think about it, given how many times he's grabbed you by the wrist and hauled in into some forgotten room for a quickie. Never in his office though, especially not during business hours.

Before you can quip back, he's pulling out his pocket knife. He grabs your skirt and hikes it up to your waist before he runs the point of the knife down your lower back. He uses the dull side of the knife, careful not to cut you, but the point of the blade still offers icy friction against your heated skin. Teasing you with the possibility that he could make you bleed.

You squirm in his lap as goosebumps raise all over your skin, pulling a deep breath in when he dips the blade under the waistband so he can flick it up, expertly slicing through the fabric. He makes quick work of it, cutting the pesky fabric out of the way so you're completely exposed to him.

"Does pissing me off always get you this wet?" He asks before flipping the knife away so he can run a finger slowly down your folds.

"That's from thinking about my date later."

That comment earns you a very sudden, very hard strike with the paddle. You bite your fist to muffle the cry that tears out of your throat, desperate to remain unheard by anyone outside of the office.

"Oh hell fucking no." Katsuki growls before quickly snatching up both of your wrists so he can pin them behind your back with the hand not wielding the paddle.

"You want to be a mouthy slut, so be it."

Another skin splitting hit to the other cheek. The pain is blinding, causing your body to jolt and twitch in his lap. You know your ass is going to be purple and welted for days, but there's not a chance you'll complain, because you absolutely love it.

"Is that all you got, sparky?" All you want is more, more bites, bruises, paddles. Anything Katsuki will give you, you'll take it with greedy, desperate hands.

"You're such a masochistic little bitch." His voice makes your pussy contract around nothing, then you feel the shameful sensation of your slick dripping down your thighs.

His hand comes up to grab at the reddened flesh of your ass, digging his fingertips in with a sneer. You feel his dick twitch against your stomach as you writhe from the sharp new pain he inflicts.

"You want me to touch you here?" He ghosts his fingers over your dripping core.

The tease is almost enough to make you break… almost.

"I'd rather save it for Deku."

There is no composed chuckle, no warning swat, not even a breath before you're shoved off of his lap so you can fall to the floor in a pathetic pile of bunched up clothes and desire.

You try to scramble to your knees, but the bottom of Katsuki's expensive dress shoe meets your sternum and forces you on to your back with a harsh push. He moves like a wolf, planting a knee on either side of your chest, caging your arms under his strong thighs. He leans over and seizes you by your shirt collar.

"You're a fucking idiot, you know that right?" He barks down at you, eyes ablaze with disdain for your bratty antics.

"You're gonna choke on my cock for that one, smart ass."

You shouldn't get a thrill from such a nasty threat, but your mind spins and your body sparks.

He makes quick work of his belt and pants, shoving them down quickly to expose his straining cock. It never ceases to make your mouth water, every inch is perfect. He's thick and heavy looking with a beautiful curve that feels devine inside you.

"Open up, and don't try anything cute." He huffs before grabbing the hair on top of your head to bring you towards his dick.

He slides into your mouth with ease, sliding the underside of his head along your tongue. You have to drop your jaw pretty much all the way in order to fit him, but you always love that part.

"Look at me, watch me the whole time." He orders, fist grabbing a little more firmly at your hair.

He presses himself into the back of your throat, the taste of the precum he's smeared along your tongue finally hits your taste buds. You savor the taste, eyelids fluttering ever so slightly but never closing.

Your eyes meet his just as you remember to relax your throat and let him all the way in. He somehow slides down your throat even further, balls pressing into your chin. You can't stop the drool that spills from the side of your gaped mouth or the tears that prick at your eyes.

He grins down at you, predatory and ravaging. Your legs twitch as your hands slide up to hold his sides, clinging to the fabric of his shirt as he starts to set a slow pace with his hips.

It's not the merciless throat fucking you anticipated, but he did only just get started. Something deep in your chest resents the slow pace, something depraved inside you wants him to use your throat until you're heaving and sobbing.

You moan around his cock and try to convey desperation in your eyes as you watch him move above you.

"Oh you poor slut, I know you want more, but you haven't fucking earned it." He says as he presses all the way in again, but this time he holds it there.

You dig your nails into his sides and close your jaw around him a little more, teeth teasing the skin of his hard on. His lip twitches into a snarl like a dog about to snap. He snatches your nose with his fingers, closing off your airway. You don't panic, not even close. You just glare up at him, having played this game many times.

"Little miss composed, huh? How about now?" He presses impossibly far into the back of your throat.

For the most part, your gag reflex has been trained out of you, but somehow he hits it right away. You open your airway and attempt to gasp, a fruitless attempt since all you can do is choke on his shaft. He doesn't release the hold on your nostrils, just glares down while you struggle under him.

Suddenly, but not soon enough, he releases your nose and rips himself from your throat. You let him pull you along like a ragdoll as he settles back into his chair, pulling you to your knees as you sputter and gasp and cry. He grabs you by the hair at the back of your head with one hand, and by the jaw with the other, a hold he's always been fond of.

"Now, unless you want to keep choking on my cock, I suggest you remind me who's about to fuck the breath out of your lungs." He says, low and vengeful.

You're nowhere near ready to give in, all kinds of lust oozes through your body. It's spreading like molten lava, destroying every ounce of self control you've ever had.

You feel drool start to pool on your chest, becoming suddenly aware of how much you're salivating.

Oh what a terrible idea.

You spit right in his face, body moving before your mind has a chance to tell it to stop. For the first time since this all started, you feel a little bit afraid. You welcome it though, scarf it down and wish there was more. You're like an adrenaline junkie, and your addiction is the menacing way Katsuki is looking at you right now.

He slowly wipes the offense off his cheek bone, giving a small, astounded laugh before he brings the palm of his hand to crack across your face.

You cry out as your thighs clench beneath you, your body giving away just how much you adore being treated like this.

"Do it again, please fucking do it again, make my day, bitch." Katsuki barks in your face, hands starting to shake a little. He's losing his calm facade, which is exactly what you want. He just needs one final push.

You open your mouth, ready to retort, ready to mouth off like the miserable little brat you are. You don't get the chance though, the words are smacked right out of your mouth as he hits you again. The sharp pain sends another shock of desire straight to your weeping cunt. You cry out as your head snaps to the side.

You take account of the drool leaking out of your mouth, the tears dripping out of your eyes, the slick sliding down your thighs. You're burning up and your vision is becoming unreliable. It might be about time to give in a little, indulge poor, pissed off Suki. You've gotten enough of a beating, now it's time to stroke his ego and get what you want.

"P-please, Daddy, I'm s-sorry." You sniffle, glancing up at him with big, pitiful eyes.

You don't expect the third slap, it's white hot and full of venom. You know without a doubt you'll be sporting a shiner from the assault.

"You're a little liar. You're not sorry, you just want me to put my dick in that stupid little cunt." He's almost yelling, trembling a little more as he sneers down at you.

If he wasn't pissed before, he sure as hell is now.

Perfect.

"How else are you going to send me to Deku full of your cum? Or am I going to have to ask him to fill me up?" Do you ever know when to stop?

"On my desk, now." He doesn't give you a chance to move on your own, he hoists you up by your waist and sets you on his desk. The abused skin of your ass stings against the cool wood. He pulls you by the hips so your ass is sat right on the edge.

He presses his face into your neck as your arms fly around his shoulders. His hot, open mouth against your neck makes you feel so incredibly dizzy. The soft feeling of his tongue contrasting so intensely with how harsh he's been.

"You make me want to blast this whole building to pieces." He huffs against your neck, your hands find his hair and you feel just how sweaty he is.

He braces one arm on the desk as the other reaches up to move your skirt out of the way.

"God, you're filthy. I can fucking smell how soaked you are."

His teeth sink into your neck as he unceremoniously slips two fingers into you. No, he doesn't slip them in, he shoves them in.

"Suki- fuck-" You say before a moan sneaks out of you, falling on his greedy ears.

"Huh uh- you can't keep that prick's name out of your mouth, say his name. I don't want to hear your whore mouth say mine." He crooks his fingers perfectly as you gaze at him with disbelief. The pads of his fingers hit that sweet spot inside you, and all you want to do is cry out for him, cry out his name.

"N-no, please, let me say yours- shit- please!" You shiver when he brings the heel of his hand to press into your clit as he continues to play with your insides.

"Then are you sorry? Really fucking sorry?" He asks as he adds a third finger.

You clench down on him, hips rolling forward as you let out a sad little sobbing sound.

You nod up at him, struggling to find the right thing to say. Obviously, that's not enough for him. He rips his hand out of your hole and slaps your cunt with incredible force.

You cry out and try to bring your legs together, but Katsuki anticipates this. Grabbing the insides of your thighs, he forces your legs open, causing you to lose balance and fall so your back is flat on his desk.

"I'm sorry, I didn't fucking hear you." He says as he grabs his cock and starts to pump himself just inches from your burning center.

"I'm sorry, I am, I'm so sorry, Suki." You say urgently, pushing yourself up on your elbows so you can truly meet his eyes.

Your core just aches as you glance down at his hand stroking his erection.

His free hand comes down against your pussy again, making you jump and whimper. The sting is exquisite, but the throbbing in your walls overrides it.

"I don't believe you, give me one good reason I shouldn't blow my load all over your thighs and send you on your way." His hand picks up speed and you start to panic a little, he might go through with it. You've pissed him off enough, it can't end like this though, no way in hell.

As quickly as you can, you rid yourself of your shirt and your bra. You leave your skirt and your socks on, knowing that combination is a favorite of his. He watches you like a hawk as you lean back down onto your elbows, eyeing the fading bruises all over your chest and down your stomach.

"Because baby," You coo as you bring your fingers to your mouth, "you need me as bad as I need you." After wetting your fingertips, you bring them down to slide over your hardened nipple.

His hand falters slightly as he watches you play with yourself. He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth when you tweak the sensitive bud.

"God- fuck- you little tease." He whines before shifting towards you.

In some ways, Katsuki is a simple man. All it takes it some teasing and some tits and he's a goner.

In the blink of an eye, his hands have a hold on the backs of your thighs as he folds you up. You feel the tip of his dick rest against your entrance and you almost scream.

"I'm going to ask you one more time, are you fucking sorry?" He's on his last leg of restraint, the grip on your thighs is absolutely bruising and you can see beads of sweat rolling down his temples.

"I am! I swear I am, I don't give a shit about him- I don't- fucking hell, Suki!" Before you can finish, his thumb is rubbing at your clit as he slides in.

Every nerve in your body responds as he does, you throw your head back and let yourself feel it completely. The drag along your walls is maddening. The second his head presses into your cervix you moan and twitch, and more tears pour from your eyes

"I'm going to make sure you are." He growls.

After he slowly pulls back, he fucks into you like it's the last time he'll ever get to. Every thrust in makes you see stars. You let a sob wrack your body as you claw at the desk.

"How would you feel if I couldn't stop saying some other bitche's name?" He says as he delivers a particularly harsh thrust.

Your stomach twists at the thought, jealousy claws at your insides.

"Makes your skin crawl doesn't it?"

"I didn't m-mean it, I'm s-sorry, sir." Your body rocks on the desk as his hips meet yours, so much rage behind his movements. You feel your body start to tighten, the nerves in your core start to get that wonderful warm feeling.

"Why do you keep doin' that shit then? Huh?" You feel a small twinge of guilt because of how genuine the question sounds, how there's just a hint of genuine confusion in his voice.

"Baby- I- fuck- I didn't mean it, I swear- shit, I'm so close." Your walls start to pulse around his cock, the rest of you starts to squirm.

"You want me to hurt you? Is that it?" He smacks the underside of your thigh after his question, earning a deep moan from you.

"Fuck! Yes, I love it when you hurt me." You admit, voice warbling as your orgasm approaches rapidly.

"Then just fucking ask me for it." Then he stops, stilling completely inside you. It's enough to drive you up a wall, your orgasm runs away from you. All of the building pleasure slips through your fingers.

"No no no! Suki please, I said I was sorry, I meant it, please I was so fucking close!" You beg as your fists hit the desk, almost throwing a tantrum.

"Maybe Deku can help you finish." He says shortly as he pulls out and starts to fuck his fist, with a groan and his head back, he finishes on your thighs as promised. You watch in horror as his release paints your skin white, his soft moans and sighs fall on your ears and it makes your heart sink.

He wastes no time in tucking himself back into his pants, making himself look composed in record time.

"I have a lot I need to get done this afternoon, clean this shit up and be home by eight." He says with a flat tone.

You just lay there dumbfounded as you watch him stalk out of the room without a glance your way.

You did it. You pushed too damn far. Katsuki never leaves you hanging like this. There's always a few gentle kisses, a few mumbled reassurances, it's never like this. Even when it was just quick fucks in a closet, Katsuki would offer you a few moments of comfort afterwards. You hit a nerve, you must have. Something far past you're usually bratty teasing.

The sound of the office door closing makes you flinch. You glare down at the mess he's left on you, eyeing the shredded remains of your panties on the floor. No way in hell you're going to coffee with Deku, not with the horrible feeling settling in your gut. You don't know if Katsuki will even want to talk to you, but you have to try, you have to make this right.

Taglist:

@iloveitblackbhna @midnightartist @oblxvion @imonlymildlyinsane @kasumireads @nobody-says-hello @kibayoukai @michigood9618 @evierena @kimchi123n

[pvrpleblccd]

Promise.

pairing : shuntaro chishiya x f reader

tw : angst, unresolved grief, death, mentions of death, blood, violence (beating up someone), chishiya being violent

a/n : this is my first post- cndovn- but i am currently having a massive crush on this man right here <3 ALSO CHISHIYA GIVES ME MASSIVE KENMA VIBES (im sorry for the typos, i wrote this at 4 am-)

-

There he was again, sitting at the edge of the rooftop of the Beach, hoods on and hands in his white Nike zip up sweater, well, it was given to him. He looked down to see all of the horny animals dancing and living their life as if it was their last day. Chishiya sighed, ‘Everyone looks like their all about to die, as always.’

It was a beautiful day in this cruel country. But it’s just like any other day, people will die tonight, either because their visa will expire or die during a game. Dying in a game, probably the worst death here. Chishiya sighed again and took a deep breath, trying to erase all negativity going through his head. Though, there’s one thing that he can’t get out of his head.

“Hey, Chishiya.”

Chihsiya whipped his head to where he heard the voice. He was about to call her name, but he only saw Kuina at the door of the rooftop entrance, looking at Chishiya with a confused look. ‘Ah... I’m still hearing her voice, I must be crazy.’

“An told me you guys had a meeting, I’m just here to rely the message to you.”

The blonde male nodded and stood up, making his way to where Kuina was. No words were exchanged between the both of them, though Kuina noticed the slight mood change the male had every now and then. There are times where he’s cocky, would always slide comment when he had the chance, had his guard up, and times where he just became more reserved than ever and was cold and gloomy.

Kuina noticed, but never dared prying on it, not wanting to get on the intelligent man bad side.

Chishiya on the other side, he zipped up the white hoodie he loved very much. He entered the meeting room and sat at his place, like always, though he kept a pokerface while hugging the hoodie he was wearing. He felt several pair of eyes on him, not on him, but the zip up he was wearing. No one dared to say anything, though Niragi wasn’t having it.

“Chishiya. Were you really obligated to wear that zip up when we’re in a meeting?!”

Niragi shouted from his place, gripping hard the rifle he had in his hand. No one budge or said anything, even Hatter looked at Chishiya, both with envy and anger in his eyes.

“It was given to me. Why whouldn’t I wear it? If you’re thinking that we should share it, you, out of everyone in this room, that I don’t share what I own. And plus, if we shared it, you’d only get blood on it and dirty it, y/n managed to keep it white and as clean as possible. I won’t let your stupidity ruin it.”

“You wouldn’t know what y/n would have wanted!” Niragi stood up and pointed his rifle at the blonde male.

“I knew y/n longer than you.”

“We were still close!”

“To someone like you? I don’t think so, you’re a complete psycho, Niragi.”

“Give it a break! We’re all mourning Chishiya, espicially An! So what the hell do you mean, y/n-”

“Y/n is dead.” Last Boss said while looking at the arguing males.

The room was even more quiet than it ever was, not only with the statement, but for the bald tattooed male to speak up and empathized the dead made them slightly uncomfortable. With no one saying a thing for a minute or two, Mira stood up and talked about the card they were able to collect and that they haven’t gotten news ones for a while. An talked about the medical supplies and that she was running out from it, Hatter asked Aguni and his Militants to accompany An for a short run to grab all supplies they can gather.

She was the first one to leave, the meeting room which was understandable. When no one said anything, Hatter talked about adding a new rule. Rule number three, death to traitors.

Soon after, the meeting was done.

The blonde male made his way to his room, opening the door he saw a familiar figure sitting on his bed, when he blinked the figure was gone. Chishiya closed his room door and laid on his bed, looking at the ceiling. He never felt so confused and empty in his entire life. He never wanted to deal with anyone’s emotions or feelings, let alone his. But upon on thinking and thinking, he came to a conclusion he now only realized.

How much he loved y/n.

“Damn it. This hurts... This sucks.”

Too tired and exhausted to think, Chishiya closed his eyes and embraced the darkness that surrounded him.

“Chishiya?” A voice called out.

The blonde male turned his head, seeing a petite figure looking at him as if he was a ghost. He looked at her from head to toe and his eyes grew wide, he instantly got up and hugged the petite figure.

“Y/n?” He said in a weak voice.

The petite figure sighed in relief and hugged the male back, while letting out a small sob. They were currently in an abandonned mall, gathering food and necessities to get through the night. Y/n came back with a ton of canned food and water, while Chishiya came back with the others things they needed, such as flashlights and batteries and other things.

The both of them were catching up upon missed times and Chishiya kept eyeing on how she was dressed, grey sweatpants with a nike zip up and what looked like a swimsuit top, and the pink locker bracelet around y/n wrist. The numbers 009 was on the bracelet and the girl knew he was looking at it.

“What’s the most recent game you completed?” The petite girl asked.

“Six of diamonds, how about you?” Chishiya said, eating the canned peach. He didn’t noticed the slight spark in y/n’s eyes, but she smiled.

“Nine of hearts.” Y/n said and took a bite of her food.

A comfortable and peaceful silence was set between the two until the girl broke it.

“I want to take you somewhere.”

~

“Hatter, I want him to be part of the executives.”

Y/n said right after they all welcomed her back. All of them looked at her with confused and looked at Chishiya then back at y/n. The girl only smiled and put all of cards she collected on the table. Chishiya couldn’t believe the amount of cards she had in her possession, there was 14 cards in total.

“Chishiya cleared a diamonds game and is the lone survivor, I highly believe that his skills can be very useful to us. Also, I have known him before entering the Borderland. He is like a precious gem, full of hidden talents!”

She said while putting her hands in her grey sweatpants.

The blonde male was taken aback by the sudden praise, but dind’t show it. The others turned their attention to Chishiya, hearing the praise from y/n made them have a base opinion on Chishiya, he was smart and must not be harmed. Hatter started to explain the two rules to Chishiya and handed him a blue locker bracelet with the number 011 on it.

“Enjoy the Beach!”

~

After Chishiya settled in the Beach for a couple of weeks, he and y/n grew closer than they ever were before. The two of them became inseparable.

During one night, Chishiya and y/n were hanging out in the lobby, they were part of the first teams that finished early. Chishiya lost his other hoodie, blood was splattered on it, due to a player clung onto him begging him to help him and his collar went off.

In short words, he was currently shirtless. Y/n trying her best not to look, couldn’t help, but take a peek, thought the blonde male caught her.

“Like what you see?”

He said with a grin plastered on his face. Out of embarrassment, she took off her white Nike zip up and handed it to Chishiya, who watched her with an amused expression.

“H-here...! It’s yours now..!” She said and sprinted to elsewhere.

Chishiya sat there smiling at himself and decied to put the zip up on. He got up from his place and went off to find y/n. A part of him starting to worry, since it’s been an hour and he hasn’t found the petite girl yet. He passed the lobby at least three or four times, that’s when he started asking around.

With no one knowing where the girl was, he even asked Niragi, he too was worried so they both went on their sides to find her. Chishiya went outside and started to walk around the perimeter until he heard an oh so familiar voice coming form the sketchy alleyway.

“Were you hiding the cards from Hatter?”

“So what if I was?! I had to watch my friends die in front of me to be able to get this card! I’m not giving it to some cult leader or whatever he is!”

Chishiya rushed to the voices and saw one of the new militants holding three cards in his left hands and a gun in this right. Y/n tried to reason with the boy, but it only seemed to boil his blood even more, to the point he raised his gun. Chishiya ran to y/n side and hid her behind him, y/n on the other side was surprised.

“Put the gun down... You’re pointing it at the most important person apart from Hatter.” Chishiya tried calm the boy down, but didn’t work.

“Y/n... You remember Kirika? She was close to you right? Did you know that she gave her life up so that I can survive the game? Her last words were, ‘Tell y/n, thank you... I love you Aki-kun.’ She gave her life for me because she loved me!”

Aki broke down crying, falling on his knees and letting out pained screams. Y/n came forward tears falling down her cheek and approached Aki and gave him a hug. She careful put the gun down and caressed the top of Aki’s head.

“Kirika was a wonderful person, Aki, she was-“

Y/n sentence was cut abruptly and Chishiya took a step wondering why y/n suddenly stopped talking, he took another stop forward, his eyes widening seeing Aki’s hands was covered in blood and held a knife. He dropped the knife and moved his hand to grab the gun next to him.

“You’re all Hatter’s soldier. We have to end this, I have to end it.”

Aki grabbed the gun and slowly got up, hair covering his eyes. While Chishiya looked at how y/n’s body fell to the side and seeing a dark substance staining her grey sweatpants. A small pool of her own blood was starting to form underneath her.

Chishiya looked at Aki who was still mumbling things, but he saw red. The blonde grabbed the closest thing to him, which was a metal pipe, and ran towards Aki, hitting him with it, unable to stop himself.

Chishiya’s blood was boiling, he never felt so angered in his entire life. He kept on swining the pipe, hitting a part of Aki’s body every time. His vision was red, he couldn’t even hear the screams of his victim. What brought him back was Aguni taking off the metal pipe off of his hands. Chishiya’s face was unrecognizable, it was full of hatred, sadness, anger and disgust. Aguni never saw such expression on the male’s face before, he always looked so calm and preserved.

Something caught Chishiya off guard when he looked at Aguni. His eyes were red, as if he was holding himself back not to cry, that’s when he remembered y/n. He turned around to see An trying to stop the bleeding from y/n’s wound, but the blood was coming out and went through all of the amount of cloth that was put on it.

The blonde male rushed towards y/n’s side caressed her face while shaking his head. Tears fell on the girl’s cheek while Chishiya was telling y/n to stay with him. He soon looked at An and she was trying everything she could, all of the sudden, a small and tired voice caught his attention.

“S...shuntaro...? Ri-chan..?”

The blonde male whipped his head to look at y/n. She was smiling. Why was she smiling? She was dying, but she was still smiling. Chishiya tried to understand her, but couldn’t.

“S-spending my... last moments.. with the ones I love.. Shun... taro... I’m sorry... but pro..mise me... you’ll live, okay?”

“W..why are you saying sorry.. No. We both survive okay? Look... An... An will take care of you okay?”

Y/n turned weakly looked over the forsenic, who was doing her best to keep the petite girl alive. They made an eye contact, y/n let out a pained sigh while An shook her head. Y/n was trying to stay strong until the very end.

“Ri..chan... Thank you for everything... Take care... Big sis...”

At this point, An was crying too and shouted for other people to come help them. Y/n placed her bloodied hand on Chishiya’s cheek, wiping his tears away, he held her hand as she caressed him. She was so warm, he never knew she was this warm before. He didn’t wanted her to leave.

Just not yet.

“No.. No, you can’t leave.. Hang on okay y/n..? Help is... help is on the way.”

Y/n shook her head and let all of her tears fall, managing to give Chishiya one final smile.

“Shuntaro... I love you.”

At her words, y/n’s eyes closed and her hand went limp, landing on her body. When the other arrived, all of the executives looked at the scene before them. They were too late. An was crying, still holding on her little sister dead body, telling her to wake up and not to leave her. Chishiya sat there unable to move or say anything.

A pang of guilt hit two executives in particular and they slightly looked at each other and sighed, tears slowly coming in their vision. Aguni was behind them and his fist turned white, knowing y/n was the most important person in the Beach. She was the only one who kept Hatter in the sane side.

Niragi pushed the people aside and dropped his rifle, analyzing the dead girl’s feature. Y/n died with a smile on her face.

“She looks so peaceful.”

Chishiya woke up at the sound of the bell, indicating to gather in the lobby and group up, since the games were about to start. He felt something wet on his side and he looked at his pillow, it was wet. He touched his face and he shook his head, laying on his bed once again.

He cried. He was crying.

He looked at the ceiling and smiled sadly, clutching on his chest at the amount of pain he felt. The memory of her smiling to him was engraved in his mind and he wasn’t going to let it go.

“I never had the chance to tell you that I loved you too... I’m sorry.. I only now realized it..”

He stood up, wiping the tears off of his face, putting his shoes on and went to the lobby. He put his hood on and tucked his hands in the pockets, he analyzed everyone and he nodded to himself.

‘I will keep my promise.’

[formidxble]

summary: you and chan follow a routine every night. tonight’s different. 

pairing: bang chan x female reader 

word count: 3.1k

genre: angst, like Extreme Angst™️, college!au, established relationship

warnings: a lot of swearing, toxic relationship, mentions of sex ( oh and btw, this is not beta read. we die like men)

note: omg? finally? i got to write something and now i’m posting it on here? confidently??? who is she, we don’t know her! enough jokes though, this is my first fic ever that’s going to be posted on this platform, so i’m excited! constructive criticism and feedback are welcome 👉🏻👈🏻. 

tagged ❤️: @popisdead @hanflix

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

it’s become routine at this point. 

when chan sees your room’s light turn off, it’s a signal that your roommates are now headed to bed and that you’re ready to come out and meet him. it’s been a busy few months for the both of you and the nights were the only time you two could meet. he’s a business major working on his business proposals for the semester and you’re a performing arts student, preparing for this semester’s art production. saying it was hard to make time to see each other was an understatement. nevertheless, you two made sure you still met, may it be only for a few minutes. some nights you were lucky, being able to meet for an hour or so. nights were reserved for chan and for chan only. 

after putting on your coat, you reached out for the door knob as you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. “are you coming or not? i’m freezing” you sigh softly.

the first few nights were fun, you have to admit. impromptu grocery shopping for the both of your food supplies for rest of the week, a few make out sessions here and there, and sometimes, leading to even more if you both were lucky enough. it gave you a high you never thought you would ever come down from. whenever he kissed you after a long day, you felt as if the weight on your shoulders fell off, even for just a moment. whenever chan held you in his arms and told you it was going to be okay, your chest loosened, even for just a moment. chan was the calm in the chaos and when you were in his car, holding his hand and feeling his lips lingering on yours, he provided the needed break you longed for during the day.

but, as the days and weeks passed by, the nights became shorter and quieter. rides became quicker and the good conversations slowly turned into mere small talk. no longer would he give you soft touches, no longer would he ask how your day went, and no longer would chan look at you the way he did before. no more i love you’s, no more second glances when he dropped you off at your dorm during the early hours of the morning. you excused the change of behavior as the result of your fatigue in school. the change was expected, you always told yourself.

it’s become a mantra now, something you repeated to yourself as you lied in bed at night, a routine. a routine. 

you close your eyes for a moment as you twist the doorknob to open the door. you focus on your phone again as soon as you got out of your dorm. “coming."

you spotted chan’s car a mile away. before, he would put the window down to greet you, a soft smile spreading across his face. now, you were faced with the car’s tinted windows, your reflection staring back at you as you wrapped your fingers around the handle of the car door. you heard the lock click. 

“hey,” you mumbled. you heard a soft hum in response. you quietly put the seatbelt on, relaxing your back on the seat as you stared ahead. chan was on his phone, seatbelt off. light from his phone illuminated his features. the bags under his eyes were a little bit more prominent than the last time you noticed. you wonder if he’s been eating, getting enough sleep, but you weren’t in the position to ask now. not when frustration is starting to boil in your chest.  

you didn’t know if you should call him out. it was his way to unwind as well, but then again, he was there to pick you up for a short date. this was the only time you both had for yourselves, yet here he was, texting away on his phone. this shouldn’t annoy you as much as it does now because chan does this whenever he was waiting. 

“hey,” you repeat louder. chan looks up from his phone, an eyebrow raised. 

“yes?” he asks, turning his phone off. the two of you are surrounded in darkness, with only the light from the lamp posts outside lighting the interior of the car. 

“what do you mean, ‘yes?’ are you serious?” chan furrows his eyebrows at your words as he straps himself in. he turns to you, blinking. you suck in a breath. 

“this is the only time we get to spend together and you’re on your phone? are you ser—“

“i’m sorry. there,” he breathes,  “can we move past this? i’m not in the mood to fight.” he interrupts. you open your mouth to say something back, but you’re cut off by the movement of the car. 

the air inside the car was heavy, heavier than usual. sure, you and chan had a couple of unresolved fights the other nights and sure, you spent you early mornings crying over him, but it should have been resolved with the few kisses he gives you, right? then why are you so upset now? chan makes amends, tells you he’s sorry for raising his voice, for ignoring you the whole day. he was busy, right? of course he’ll end up not texting you. he kisses the pain away, even though he’s the reason for said pain. he talks his way out and if he avoids the topic of the fight, you wouldn’t mind. that was the routine. but not tonight, apparently. 

“you’re always not in the mood.” you whisper, crossing your arms in front of your chest. you watch the trees outside of the car starting to blur as chan’s driving sped up. this night will end as quick as it started, you thought. you hear a sigh beside you. 

“i just—“ chan starts, “i can’t fight anymore, y/n. i’m tired.”

“and you think i’m not?” you answer back, looking at the man beside you, “god, we never talk anymore, chan. all we ever do is fuck the pain away and—“

you’re cut off by the sight of chan’s knuckles slowly turning white on the steering wheel. you almost don’t see the way he clenches his jaw. he pulls the car over at the side of the road and for a second, you think you two will be able to finally talk about your issues, the problems that were never muttered, but still plagued your relationship. god knows you wanted to hear from him, anything— fuck, just anything to finally resolve it, fix it. to finally end the routine you both had. but that hope shatters as soon as his mouth opens. 

“what do you want me to say? we’ve been okay, we’ve been fin—“

you let out an exasperated sigh, eyes meeting his, “we aren’t fine, chan, we haven’t bee—“

“what do you mean?” chan questions. he removes his seatbelt to turn to you. a gentleman he still was, even though you knew he was avoiding the topic. again. “fuck, what do you want me to say? i was on the phone. how does that merit a full blown argu—“

“it’s not about the damn phone!” you exclaim, finally feeling the frustration in your chest blow over. 

were you going crazy? why didn’t he see the changes? doesn’t he feel the frustration? were you the only one feeling this way, then? does he feel that everything was okay or were you that good at acting that everything was okay, that nothing was wrong? you run a hand down your face as you try to collect yourself.  the car became quiet, as always. chan was never really vocal about things like this and let you do the talking. maybe this is why issues were never resolved. 

“then, what is it about?” chan mumbles, eyes never leaving your form. you let out a soft scoff.

"what is it abou—are you kidding me? are you fucking with me?”chan raises an eyebrow in response, furrowing it afterwards. he lets out a sarcastic laugh after a few beats of silence. he shook his head as he turned to face the road again. 

“is this fight going to last all night? if so, i’d rather just drop you off,” he starts to put his seatbelt on, "we can continue our date when you’re not this moody."

and at that moment, your world nearly stops. the silence in the car was loud and the tension, if you could see it, could be cut with a knife. his words echo in your mind as the car starts moving again, chan preparing to make a u-turn to go back in the direction of your dorm. 

“not...this...moody?” you repeat to yourself. chan nonchalantly hums in response. 

you couldn’t even look at this man anymore. it was as if you didn’t know him anymore. he carried the name of your boyfriend, but was he really the chan you knew? the chan you knew won’t be able to say these things to you, let alone treat you like this. you feel like a deer in headlights, shocked at how everything led up to this moment. and to think that the turning point of your relationship was something as simple as chan being on his phone. you closed your eyes as you tried to fight the lump forming in your throat. 

“so, what am i supposed to do?” you ask. "just go home and think about what i did? what i said?”

chan shrugs. he shrugs. you couldn’t believe how he didn’t take this conversation seriously. was it because you’ve been in this exact same situation before? sure, fights have been frequent, but were they frequent to the point that chan just straight up ignored them? to the point that he never brought the topics up again? no effort to try and fix it?

was he that tired that he was willing to let everything pass? let you suffer in silence? 

“stop the car,” you whisper shakily. chan doesn’t listen, though. he never does, he rarely does. he never listens anymore. 

“chan, please stop the car,” you feel stupid begging, but that does it. he stops the car again, your dorm building in sight. his knuckles start to turn white again, but he closes his eyes this time. you hear him take a sharp inhale through his nose. 

“i can’t fight anymore, y/n, please, just...we can fix it tomorrow, whatever it is.”

you let out a soft sob at his words. “chan, you always say that, god, you always say that.”

chan grips his steering wheel tighter. “yes, i do, but we always fix it. we always end up fixing it.”

“no, we fucking don’t!” you scream now, releasing the frustration that has been clawing to come out, “no, we don’t fix things, we fuck it away and we pray that things magically turn okay in the morning, but it never does! it never fucking does!”

chan stays quiet, eyes drifting to the car floor. you wish you could know what he was thinking. you wish he would talk to you, tell you what he really felt instead of just sitting there. god, were you tired. you were tired of pretending things were okay when they aren’t. you were tired of telling yourself it would be fixed, that the relationship would go back to normal, but it never does. and you just somehow have to live with it because that’s how it is with you and him. that’s the routine, right? and even though you hated it, you tolerated it because you loved him. but people will reach an end point, one way or the other. you can’t help but feel that this was yours. 

“loving you is so exhausting, chan, i—“ your voice cracks, “i’m supposed to be content with this treatment? you and i not talking the whole day and then meeting at night just to make up for lost time, have sex, and pretend that everything’s okay, that the fights have not gotten out of hand, that we’re going to be ok—“

“we are going to be okay, fuck, it’s not that easy,” chan mumbles, “i’m trying, y/n, but i can’t give you everything you need, not anymore.”

silence fills the car and it engulfs the two of you. 

"what changed?" you sob softly, tears now slowly flowing down your cheeks. it was okay, a few weeks ago. days became busier, tasks became heavier, but did that mean that your relationship had to deteriorate the way it has been? 

“nothing changed, please, y/n,”chan breathes, not turning to look at you, “we just got busier and—"

“we weren’t like this, chan, we used to talk about things. w-we used to...talk. we can’t even do that now? am i asking for too much? i shouldn’t be begging for your time, chan, please—“you cry out softly. “why am i always second to you, chan? i try to be the best for you, chan, please.”

chan lets out a shaky breath as he tries to find the words to respond with. “y/n, it’s not y—“

“spare me the bullshit. spare me the "it’s not you, it’s me”. at least, be honest with me.” you say firmly, wiping away the tears on your cheeks harshly. 

“i...i just don’t feel like i’m ready for this yet, okay? i want to fo—"

your feel something in your chest. a pain you’ve never felt before. chan’s words become a blur as you feel your back hit the seat. 

you’re taken back to a time in your childhood when you were trying out the jump rope your friends had. being the idiot you were, you jumped in time with the rope and it tangled on your feet. you ended up falling on your chin, scraping it in the process. the pain rang through your skull and for a while, you couldn’t move, tears merely streaming down your cheeks. and to that that one time during one of the art productions in university, you ended up falling off of the stage. of course, it wasn’t anyone’s fault, but maybe if they turned on the lights before lowering the stage, you wouldn’t have broken your ankle. you remember how worried chan was, but most importantly, you remember how much it hurt. you couldn’t walk and if you tried, it would shoot pain up your leg. 

adding all the pain you’ve felt in all those moments, it wouldn’t amount to the pain you feel now. 

not ready? not ready after 3 years? how could he say that? this was the man you saw your future with, someone who was supposed to be your soulmate. that was him, that was chan. the nights you shared, the words you uttered, were all those fake? were all those just to make everything feel okay? 

not ready? 

not ready.

the words echo in your mind like a broken record. were you supposed to beg him to stay? beg him to be ready when he just admitted that he wasn’t? as you turned to look at him, you didn’t see the chan who loved you. instead, it was the shell of the man who used to love you, care for you. fuck, was love supposed to hurt this bad? you feel your heart starting to crack even more.

if this was love, you didn’t want it. not anymore.

“drop me off,”you mumble after a deafening silence, voice shaking as a sob threatens to come out of your mouth. chan turns to look at you, finally. you don’t meet his eyes anymore. you, instead, just look straight ahead. if he wasn’t ready for a commitment, even after 3 long years, then you were not about to beg him to stay. chan opens his mouth to say something, but you notice that he just swallows his words. he turns to look in front of him as he pushes on the gas again to drive back to your dorm. if he wasn’t ready, then he wasn’t ready. there’s no point in trying to convince him he is. the next best thing is to leave and let him figure out what he needed to figure out. if he needed space, he could have told you. what bothered you the most is the fact that chan’s always been about communication, but somehow and somewhere along the journey, he changed. maybe that’s just how it goes. 

when he pulls up in front of your dorm building, chan turns to look at you again, eyes scanning your features. “i’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

you shake your head, eyes closing as you tried to fight the urge to cry again. the question he asked has always confused you. it was always like this, that even after a fight, he expects to see you again, the same time, the same place. you were tired and it didn’t help that you now knew why he wasn’t acting the same— he wasn’t ready to commit to you, even after all this time. 

“i’m ending it here, chan."

“ending what?”

ending the routine, ending the cycle, ending us. these words rang through your head and you didn’t know which to answer. was he acting aloof so that he could get off easily? that maybe you’ll let him off again because he somehow can’t understand what was happening? you swallowed. 

“us, chan, i—i can’t go on like this anymore,” you pause. was this what you really wanted or were you doing this to prove a point? you weren’t sure, but one thing’s clear, you had to do this, not only for him, but for you. you can’t subject yourself to this cycle anymore. you had to break it sooner or later. “when i get out of this car, we’re over."

chan’s car became a place of love and security in a world full of uncertainty and chaos. it was where you both spent time together when you needed a break, when you needed to be together. now, it was a place of loneliness and despair. it became a place full of resentment and unresolved issues and you can’t help but wonder how chan will be able to sit in his car again without thinking of this moment. before he could respond, you were out of the car. 

in the back of your mind, you hoped that he would call you, run after you. beg you to stay, tell you that everything will be fixed if you just gave him time. you prayed in your head desperately. if he did so, you know you’ll come crawling back to him. if he showed some sort of care, some sort of longing, some sort of initiative that he wanted things to work out, that he wanted this as much as you do, then maybe you’ll come back to him again. that’s how it always was, right?

right?

behind you, you hear the car drive away.

[emiewritesthings]

the story of our life (2) - jay halstead

jay halstead x fem!reader

part one

masterlist

series summary: in which jay finds an old video camera and him and y/n decide to document their life as it progresses

a/n: this is about a year too late, but i finally got around to writing a part two to this, i was overwhelmed by the support last time. hope you enjoy :)

31st december 2013

if there was one thing that y/n hated, it was making small talk with a bunch of her neighbours. she knew how mean that sounded, but it was the truth. it was the way they worded their questions to serve both as jabs for informations with a hint of an insult, whilst covering it up with the largest fake smile that they could muster up. it was something mrs franklin, the 45 year old, mother of 4 had gotten well practised at, as y/n had the displeasure of finding out.

"so, how's the job hunt going? i know after you dropped out of university it must have been quite a struggle to keep afloat? isn't that why you are still living here with your mom?" she sneered, as she sipped innocently on the cheap bottle of wine y/n's mom had personally assigned just for her consumption. y/n had to restrain herself from slapping the glass clean out of her hand as she remembered what her mother had instilled in her for the last week in preparation for this exact moment.

"oops, i think i hear my mom calling. enjoy your night, yeah?" she stay posed, as she flashed one more faux smile before striding away from the living room and into the kitchen where she grabbed whatever was closest and downed it as quick as she could, frowning at the permanent numbness that hollowed out her entire body.

her head was ringing from the chatter that filled the house, and that would most likely continue until the new year had been welcomed in. the laughter and smiles that were being thrown around didn't sit right with y/n, for what was another year if it was just going to be like the last two. her life had imploded in her hands leaving nothing but a body behind that had no choice but to survive.

"y/n!" someone called out from the other room, however before they had a chance to find her, y/n grabbed two beers from the fridge and shimmied out the back door. the sudden fan of cold december air on her face made her entire chest burn, but y/n liked it, at least it broke the monotony. even if it was just for a couple minutes.

avoiding eye contacts with everyone she passed, y/n found herself rounding her own house until she was stood in the driveway of the neighbouring one. a small smile etching itself on her face as her eyes were met with the old, rotten porch swing that was missing the woman that would be doing her crossword or simply sipping on a cup of coffee no matter the hour. a shiver ran down the woman's back, realising there would not be another moment that she got to see that again.

the house had stayed the same even after all these years, the same paint was chipping away and the wood door was still damaged from where a football had hit it repeatedly during the early years of their sons' lives. however unlike the busy chaos that had once been habituated in the abode, no lights could be seen, no life. just a dull darkness that highlighted how the house she once had known, the family, couldn't be any more different.

pushing past the knot in her stomach, y/n approached the gate to the back garden that was slightly ajar. as she investigated further, a small smile etched itself upon her lips as she was met with two white plastic garden chairs, in one sat pat halstead, whilst the other remained empty.

"well, well, i thought your mother would have chained you to your seat to stop you from pulling a fast one." pat teased, as his eyes strayed away from the dark sky to inspect the woman. patting the seat besides him, the twenty something year old collapsed down into it, before handing one of the cans over to the man, receiving a whispered 'thank you'.

"she got distracted by the mini quiches like an hour ago and i haven't seen her since. couldn't stay there much longer, celia and claire were debating whose husband was the biggest deadbeat." she sighed, as the pair clinked their cans together before they took a longing sip of the liquid, and slipped further down the slightly cracked plastic. her eyes were drawn upwards into the pre-midnight bleakness. however where the winter clouds usually suffocated it, there was a small breaking where two stars shone proudly above them.

"beautiful aren't they?" pat pointed out, clearly confirming y/n's thoughts that the two stars had been the same thing that had caught his interest when she first arrived. running a hand over the wiry beard he had grown over the last two years, his eyes began to water. "uh, sometimes i like to think it's liz and your old man up there, sure she would be chatting his ear off about you and your brother. as well as watching over our jay wherever he may be."

y/n was taken off guard by the older man's comments, but she tried to contain it. in the years she had known pat halstead, it was extremely rare that he voiced his honest opinion about anything. or at least one that wasn't followed by a sarcastic grumble or insult. but to talk about his wife and his son, as well as his best friend, with such emotion brought tears to y/n's eyes.

"you haven't heard from him have you?" she asked in a whisper, not knowing if she truly wanted the answer. the last communication she had with the youngest halstead had been throughout the last period of his mother's life until a little after the funeral, however after not receiving a reply once again and her life on a down spiral she surrendered.

"no, no i haven't," however y/n couldn't help notice that something didn't seem right. maybe it was the way that he shuffled in his chair, refusing to pull his eyes away from the sky to meet her own sad ones. however before she got the chance to confront him, he brought himself to his feet. "wait one moment, i have something for you." watching as he disappeared back into the house, y/n tried to figure out what was going on with him? maybe he wasn't sleeping again? it had been the same for months after the funeral, but she thought he was healing just slightly. she really hoped he had been.

a couple moments later, pat reemerged this time the thing he held in his hands had stolen every inch of y/n's focus. the metal lump that held a thousand memories was being cradled, similar to the way she had been holding it when he had handed it to pat. the sound of his wife's voice in the last clip was something that pat had severed for the last year and a half. it was the thing he would fall asleep to and the thing he would play when he woke up. his liz was still alive in the camera, she was still his liz.

"i thought- i thought you-." y/n couldn't muster up a single thought to vocalise as she was passed the camera. her eyes ran over each dint, scratch, stain that had been acquired over the years. every memory she severed had the image of the red flashing light in it, and yet the person in those videos was someone she no longer recognised.

"this is your life, and i know it feels like it's over, but you have so much to live for and if these videos don't show you that then i don't know what else will." in a rush of uncontrollable emotion, pat wrapped his arms around the daughter he never had and held her as she let out a quiet sob, unsure how to feel.

returning to their seats, pat held y/n's hand as they sat for what felt like days watching the sky deepen. as pat seemed to pray to the heavens that his liz was alright, y/n let her mind run ablaze with unresolved thoughts and emotions as she watched video after video.

it was moments before 2014 came along when her phone let out a painful shrill in search of attention. letting out a small groan, she pulled it from her back pocket, pausing the prom video to answer.

"hello?" she answered.

"y/n where are you? come on, the countdowns about to begin!" her mother yelled clearly unable to hear herself. sighing, looking over to pat who seemed to be hiding something in his eyes, she agreed before hanging up the phone.

"it's not too late for you to come with me you know..." she fluttered her eyes in a humorous attempt at convincing him. the deep chuckle that arose from pat's chest spoke enough for her to work out what was coming next.

"as much as i would love to chit chat with celia and clare over a mini quiche, i'm gonna have to decline." pushing herself off the chair, she leaned over to kiss his cheek softly, pulling away to see the small smile.

"happy new year, pat."

"happy new year, y/n."

--

the moment she reappeared in her house, she was pretty much been jostled around. somehow the camera that she had walked in with had disappeared from her gasp, and she had made her way to her mother's sight closest to the tv as the countdown clock appeared on the screen. the way her mother smiled at her was slightly unnerving, she knew the woman better than anyone in this world, and just like pat, she was hiding something.

"ten!" they began to chant.

"nine!"

"eight!"

"seven!" a drink was pushed into her hands, which she concerningly took without hesitation. she wasn't even sure who gave it her, but a drink was exactly what she needed right now.

"six!"

"five!"

"four!"

"three!"

"two!"

"one!" suddenly the tv screen was a picturesque screen of fireworks exploding around the country before the whole room erupted in a cheer.

"happy new year!" suddenly everyone was locking lips with their loved ones, friends and whoever was closest to them. however y/n tried to step back, and disappear into the crowd offering a couple of smiles until suddenly she hit something, or someone.

"shit, i'm sorry." she immediately gasped as the drink she was holding splashed against the dress she was wearing, however when she turned to look at her victim her mouth dried out.

there, stood in her living room was jay halstead, in the same uniform that she had last seen him stood in on her doorstep the day he left. what felt like the whole world silencing was actually just everyone in the room turning to look at the pair of them, smiling as they watched the reunion of the couple that never was. however they neither jay or y/n could pull there eyes away from their counterpart.

for a moment they were 17 again, teenagers that didn't know a thing about the world whilst experiencing it together. but this was different, for they were older now. jay's face was more mature, with stumble around his jaw that made him look more in his twenties. y/n's hair was much longer and ever so slightly darker, but jay remembered how the winter did that to her.

"hi." jay smiled, reaching forward to move stands of her hair behind her ears to avoid it from covering up those eyes that were far more fragmented than they had been before. but then again y/n saw the exact same distortion in his own, like half a heart that was on the edge of collapsing.

but at the sound of his voice, y/n fell face first into reality. she remembered every unanswered letter, the loss of hope when she laid in bed completely alone wondering if he was even still alive. she recalled the nights she would sleep on the hospital chair besides his dying mother praying to every god out there that he would be brought back in time to to say goodbye. but it didn't happen, she was left in a void and she didn't know if she would ever be able to get out.

"i-i need to go." she suddenly mumbled, quickly brushing past the army ranger and through the crowd. the awkward, confrontational silence that remained in the room was already enough to tip her over the edge, which only worsened when she saw the red flashing light. stood on the stairs filming the whole debacle was her little brother, who wasn't so little anymore. noticing the shift in mood, he awkwardly lowered it and offered her a sad smile, before she escaped out the door.

what are you doing, she thought, you finally get him back and you are trying to create distance between you two? that was just one of the many nags that bounced off each memory relaying in her mind. so this was what was wrong with pat, he must of known. he knew what was planned, and he said nothing. y/n couldn't blame him, there was no one in this city that would have predicted that she would just walk out like that, well maybe one but he had only just rejoined her life so she couldn't be sure.

her feet lead her to where her heart wanted to be, she cursed herself out for being so stupid as to wear a dress and not grab a jacket during her whole walk out. but the bite of the wind wore off the more blocks that passed until she reached the old creaky gate.

pushing against the metal, even in the pitch black she knew her way. the amount of times she had ended up late at night in this very place gave her that advantage. as she approached the engraved slab that she had helped pat pay for, a sob raked through her body.

"god i wish you could be here right now," crouching down, she leaned forward to run her cold fingertips over the 'ELIZABETH HALSTEAD' scripture. mrs halstead always knew what to say, in any situation. jay and y/n used to blame it on the abundance of dr phil episodes she had watched over the years. yet there was a depth to her words that made your problem feel shared rather than suffocating. "although i'm sure you would be cursing me out right about now for being such an idiot." she thought out loud, remembering what the woman had said when she had told her about the kiss she had shared with the older's son.

she had joked about how it took long enough and what she was going to wear to their wedding, neither of them considering the possibility that she wouldn't get chance for her theory to prosper.

"if that's true, then she must despise me right now." the sudden introduction to the deep voice nearly produced a scream from the woman that turned to see jay staring longingly at the gravestone. just as he brought his eyes to her's, she quickly turned back around, running her hands over her face wondering if he would disappear and all of this would have just been a dream. only it wasn't it was something much more chaotic, filled with resentment, love and the unknown.

"your mom loved you and will more than anything, i don't think she could despise you if she tired," she hummed through a sigh, as jay took a seat besides her. similar to how she had, he leaned forward to run his fingertips over the softened stone, muttering something that he hoped only his mother would hear.

"i really fucked up, y/n/n," hearing the crack rip through his voice, had y/n's head snapping over to him as his shoulders shook slightly as he wrestled with his sadness. "i wasn't here when she needed me most, i wasn't here when you needed me most. she was dying and i wasn't even there to tell her i loved her, what kind of son am i?" the torment that was present in jay's eyes as he turned to look at the only woman that was on the earth to love him ate at y/n's soul, as she found herself wrapping her arms around him, comforting him like he did after the death of her father.

"you a son that made his mother unconditionally proud. she never stopped telling one everyone at hospital about her boys." swiping tears away from under his eyes, ignorant to her own that burnt a trail down her skin.

"i'm not the same guy that left 5 years ago, what i've seen, what i've done-," jay let out a deep breath trying not to fall into the a box of memories he wish he could set alight and never have to face ever again. thankfully the feeling of y/n's fingers tracing nothing in particular against his back grounded him, reminding him that he had been reunited with his home, with his family, with his first and only love. "i got out of there, but that doesn't mean that the war in my mind isn't still on going."

y/n wished she had the answer, a solution, something to help him but she just didn't know what to say. instead she pulled him in tighter, feeling every tip in the think material of the uniform. a uniform that wasn't the jay she knew, but the jay that the army had created, but she knew underneath the camo was still the boy that held her when she feared the lightening outside, or the teenager that broke bryson ellis' nose after he spread rumours about their brief romantic encounter. he was her saviour, he always had been.

"your letters, i did get them. got each one of them in my bag, used to read them before i went to bed. i tried writing back, but i couldn't think of anything to say. i couldn't make anything better and i didn't want you to worry, but i realise that i only made everything worse. i'm just so sorry." pulling away, now it was jay's turn to hold her. in fact he pulled her so close that she was practically in his lap, embracing his body heat with open arms.

"everything's changed, jay," she mumbled, her forehead resting on his chest as she spoke softly. "your mom's gone, your dad's lost, and- and then you and me. last time we saw each other we kissed, we kissed. i- just, i don't know what's happening but i can't stop it." for a moment they both sat there, taking in just how much had changed since they had last been y/n and jay not y/n and jay.

with much care, jay placed his hands around her jay prompting her to look at him. the intense look in his eyes didn't falter for a minute, as he admired the swirls of colour in her's.

"i have been in love with you my entire life, and that is one thing that will never change." declaring his love for y/n y/l/n had always been something jay fantasised about, even as he was stood in a war zone, however never had he imagined it would be in a grave yard nearly an hour into the new year as they fought against the frost. but then again, he didn't care where he was in the world as long as he was by the side of his girl, his love, his y/n.

in a rash moment of euphoria, y/n grabbed his face and pushed his lips against his as if making her own statement to the universe. every ounce of her own soul fuelled itself into something so powerful that was out of the pair's hands. as jay moved his lips against her own, the meaning burnt their insides until they had no choice but to pull away to catch their breath.

with their foreheads touching, for the first time in what felt like 5 years a genuine grin was mirrored on the pairs lips.

"i'm in love with you too." y/n breathed out ruggedly, clearly catching jay by suprised as his eyes widened before the smile on his face got wider.

"wait really?" those had been the words he had wished to hear for every birthday since he was 11, now hearing them made everything a little more brighter. his heart was bumping so quickly, y/n could feel it against her own, yet she said nothing, too caught up in the moment.

"i think it was ignorant of me to think i wasn't years ago. you are it for me, jay halstead." she smiled leaning forward to press another kiss on his lips, this time though it felt as though she was putting the final period on the end of a chapter that neither of them wanted to experience again. for this was a new beginning, the beginning of the story of their lives, together.

[ppersonna]

tempestuous - kth | m

tem·pes·tu·ous - adjective - characterized by strong and turbulent or conflicting emotion

↳ summary- There’s no one who riles you up more than Kim Taehyung, your best friend’s brother.  He knows exactly how to make you fly off the handle.

↳ rating- explicit / 18+

↳ word count- 6.8k

↳ pairing- taehyung x reader

↳ genre- smut, minor angst i guess in the form of fighting, this is one big pile of smut, there’s some fluff too

↳ warnings- yikes where to begin.  angry sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don’t be like dis), slapping, spanking, pain kink, dom/sub elements, facefucking, really rough sex, finger sucking, derogatory names, uhhh name calling, hate sex, tae is fuckin nasty yall im thriving

↳ a/n- I HAD TO REUPLOAD bc tumblr sucks lol well folks. here we are.  i was given a prompt by @ladyartemesia​ so i blame her.  as for tae, he really came for me this week and completely wrecked me, love that for me. i really popped off here and it’s only edited by me so i’m SORRY if there’s a lot of mistakes.  fun fact i actually wrote almost 10k of another version of this but it frustrated me so badly i scrapped it lmao  🤡 HERE WE GO! Enjoy!  feel free to send in your requests and i promise to try and get it done for you! 

Kim Taehyung could only be described in a few words.

Infuriating, bothersome, vexing.

Gorgeous, breathtaking, suave.

Absolutely, inherently maddening.

And you hate how much you absolutely melt underneath his gaze, the way your heart leaps into your throat with a single word.  Your body, the ultimate betrayer, opens up to him as your brain screams to abort, reverse, go back to start and do not pass go.

Kim Taehyung is not just the bane of your existence, no.  He’s the little brother of your best friend, Kim Namjoon.   Joonie had been in your life since you were in first grade and he in second.  Taehyung was your age, but you hit it off with the older boy and haven’t separated since.  Your mothers joked that you would get married one day and continue on the Kim line.  Until they found out that Namjoon was 1) bisexual and 2) hopelessly in love with, ironically, a man named Kim Seokjin.   He reasoned to his parents that they would at least carry on the Kim name.  

Where Namjoon was sweet, caring, and deeply compassionate towards you, Taehyung was his alter.  Taehyung was brash, cocky and relished in watching you squirm, whether it be out of fury or the god forsaken sexual tension.  All growing up, he was the one to pull your pigtails, trip you into puddles of mud, and tease you in front of your friends. Namjoon, ever the faithful companion, was always there to pick up the pieces of what Taehyung broke.

It’s been that way with Taehyung ever since. A constant tug of war with each other, both unwilling to give a single inch to the opponent.  

Your relationship with Namjoon remained steadfast as ever.  Namjoon eventually moved in with his now-husband, Seokjin, who easily settled into your life as an additional partner in crime.  You spent most of your days and nights settled into the couch, snuggled somehow in between or next to one of the two men you cherished most.  You had the two best friends you could ask for and a happy life, blissfully Taehyung-free.

Until it wasn’t.

A loud knock wakes you from an unexpected nap on Namjoon’s couch.  Your eyes crack open against the glare of the sunlight streaming through the windows.  It takes a moment to gather your surroundings.  You recognize that you’re in Namjoon and Seokjin’s apartment, and judging by the silence, you’re definitely alone there.  As you reach for your phone, the screen lights up the time.  5:34 pm.  Well, shit. You remember eating brunch and drinking mimosas at noon with your best friends and then lying on the couch to watch Netflix.  How had you fallen asleep for five hours?  How did you not wake? What the fuck did Jin put in his mimosas?

The knock is insistent again, louder this time.

“Joon! Jin! it’s me! Open up!”

The voice sounds familiar in your sleep-addled mind, but not quite enough to pinpoint it.   You push your limp body off the couch and wince at the feeling of sore muscles.  Couch sleeping isn’t all it’s cracked up to be once you’re past the age of 25.

“Sorry, Namjoon isn’t here-,” You open the door to explain to the guest and you’re cut off.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You rub at your sleepy eyes and allow your vision to focus, only to feel your blood stand still in your veins.

Kim Taehyung.  Of fucking course.

“What do you mean, why am I here? I’m always here,” you tut as you fold your arms to your chest.  “What are you doing here?”

He rolls his eyes and holds up his hands, two suitcases clutched in each.  Who the fuck carries 4 suitcases up three flights of stairs? Kim annoying ass Taehyung does, apparently.

“I’m moving in.”  He pushes past you and into the living room.  

Your mouth gapes open.  Namjoon certainly didn’t tell you this.  Taehyung looks back at chuckles at your reaction.

“I’m guessing your best friend didn’t tell you the happy news?”

You shut your mouth, quickly jumping back into composure.  “No, he failed to mention that,” you sniff.  “I thought you lived with your girlfriend in Gangnam?  What was her name? Rose or whatever?”

Tae stiffens, just slightly for a moment, before he plasters back on the bravado.  “Obviously not anymore.  We broke up, she kept the apartment.  Got tired of moping at my mom’s house and I told Namjoon I wanted to come back to the city.”

You feel a slight tug at your stomach, guilt, perhaps?  You clear your throat.  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

He laughs as he sits on the couch, instantly throwing his feet onto the coffee table, like a heathen.  “No, you’re not.”  

“What do you mean, no I’m not? God, sorry for being polite!”

This, you reason, is why you can’t sustain longer than 5 minutes of civilized conversation with your best friend’s younger brother.  He’s impossible.

He just smirks, and you know he loves the rise he gets out of you.

“Because I know you, and I know you don’t give a fuck about my love life.”

Au contraire. If only he knew just how much you gave a fuck.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t be nice to you!” you nearly stamp your foot in frustration but hold yourself back. That would be too good of ammo for him to use against you.

“Okay, fine,” he acquiesces. “Whatever helps you feel you’re a good person.”

You’re seeing red and you know you want to continue screaming at him but you will not stoop to his level.

“Christ, I haven’t seen you in months and you’re still an asshole,” you say as you grab your keys and shoes. “And also, Jin will kill you if he sees your feet on his coffee table.”

You whip yourself around and open the door to leave and hear him call over your shoulder.

“Good to see you too, doll! Love the hairstyle, by the way.”

You close the door with a growl leaving your throat.  The absolute audacity of that man.

You stomp towards the elevator to take yourself to the ground level, when you catch your reflection in the shiny metal. Your hair is in what you can only lovingly call a complete hornet’s nest. It’s ratted and sticking out in places and you feel your cheeks burn.  Your first reintroduction with Taehyung is with a fight AND with you looking like a fool.

This would not do. No, sir.

“Kim Namjoon!” you shriek into your cell phone.  You’re awkwardly pressing it against your ear with your shoulder as you walk out of the convenience store under your apartment building with 3 bottles of soju and a six-pack of beer. You needed to drown your shame and sorrow, and fast.

“Hello, love of my life and moon of my stars,” your best friend replies and you can hear Seokjin chuckle in the background.

“No!” You chide, already cracking a beer open as you storm into your apartment building. “Don’t you Khal Drogo me, mister! Why the fuck didn’t you tell me your fucking asshole brother was moving in with you?!”

Namjoon is silent and you can tell he’s wincing on the other end of the phone. “Oops?” He offers.

“Yeah, big oops! A heads up would have been nice! Like, ‘hey best friend, your worst enemy of all time is moving in today. Maybe you shouldn’t fall asleep on my couch and wake up looking like Frankenstein’s ugly wife. Oh, and also my handsome boyfriend and I will just happen to not be there when he arrives’.”

By this time, you can tell Namjoon has put you on speakerphone because you can hear their rich laughter loud and clear. Rude bitches.

You stab your key code into your door and lock yourself in, chugging as much of the beer as you could handle.

“At least, even in her rants she thinks I’m handsome,” Jin gloats.

“I’m sorry babe,” Namjoon sighs as he finally calms down. “I didn’t know he would be there today. I just found out about it last night.”

You nibbled at your bottom lip, the annoying pit in your stomach feeling simultaneously guilty that he went through a breakup, unbridled joy that something brought him down a peg, and just a dash of excitement that he’s single now.

You let out a breath. “It’s okay, Joon.  It just surprised me to see him.”

Jin butts in, “And because you have a big, fat, unresolved crush on him.”

“Jin!” You admonish. The couple laughs again and you roll your eyes, asking yourself why you put up with the two. “I do not!”

They both hum a non-committal answer, implying they don’t believe you in the slightest.

“Whatever.  What are you guys doing, anyway?”

“We just got home from shopping.  God, Jin looked so good in these jeans he tried on.  I was actually just about to suck his coc-,”

“Kim Namjoon, do not finish that sentence! I do not wish to hear it!” You try to remain firm, but dissolve into giggles with the pair.

You could never stay mad at Namjoon long, even if his brother was the devil incarnate.

“Darling,” Jin calls through the phone.  “I still expect to see you at our place tonight for our sleepover.”

Christ, you had forgotten all about your scheduled sleepover night.  It was tradition and one of your favorite parts of your friendship with the couple.  Jin, a literal chef, prepared a five star meal along with dessert for you while you binge watched Netflix and talked incessantly.

But you also usually slept in their spare bedroom.  The exact one that Taehyung would be occupying.

“Fuck, while he’s there?”

“Oh suck it up,” Jin chides, like he’s your mother. “He’s probably not even going to leave his room.  You’re not getting out of this.  I’m making strawberry cheesecake.”

Your mouth waters at the idea of Jin’s famous cheesecake.  

“Fine, but I get to lick the bowl and not Namjoon.  Those are my terms.”

Namjoon squawked in defiance as Jin laughed.  “I agree to your terms.  Be at our place by 8.”

As you hung up the phone, you checked the time.  6:40.  God, he hadn’t left you with much time to get ready, did he?

And you definitely needed to get ready.  There was no way you were entering a room where Kim Taehyung exists looking like booboo the fool, not again.

Your fingers press the 6 digit passcode to Namjoon and Seokjin’s apartment, arms heavy laden with your bag of toiletries and pajamas, and a bag full of wine.

“Honey, I’m home!” You announce as you toe off your shoes and slide into the combined kitchen and living room.

You receive no reply, but greeted with the amused face of none other than the object of your filthiest dreams, Taehyung.

“Pet names already?  We’re moving pretty fast, wouldn’t you say?” He asks you as he lounges at the kitchen table.  He watches you open the fridge to set the wine, as comfortable in their home as you are in yours.

“Fuck off,” you grumble. “Where’s your brother?”

Tae seemed absolutely tickled by your disgruntlement.  “I think they mentioned something about taking a shower.  That was 20 minutes ago, though.”

“Great,” you sigh. “Those fucking horn dogs act as if they’re still newlyweds.  We’ll be waiting awhile.”  

You tug off your sweater, leaving you to remain in a fitted tank top and yoga pants.  You tried to maintain a comfortable look as you dressed for the evening, while keeping in mind which leggings hugged your ass and showed off your toned thighs, and a tank top that dipped low to your cleavage.  Okay, so maybe you had ulterior motives. You wanted to make up for your dreadful appearance earlier and make him squirm, payback for the years of him doing it to you.

You watch him as he lets his eyes roam your body, eying you like he wants to ravage you completely. You feel victorious… and also turned on. Fuck, you played yourself.

You flop onto the couch in a huff and Tae snorts before joining you.

“What’s so funny?” You eye him suspiciously.

“Nothing,” his smile feigns innocence. “I’m not allowed to laugh?”

You sniff in annoyance, not eager to fall for his tricks. “You’re allowed to do whatever you want, your highness.”  Sarcasm drips from your voice and Tae finds it even more humorous.

“I see you’re still a sassy bitch.”

You gasp, audibly startled by his language and rise from the couch, fists clenched.

“I see you’re still a conceited dick!”

He rises to meet you where you stand, eyes boring into your own with his stupid sexy grin on his face.  “I see you’re still not one to back down from a fight.”

You step closer, close enough to feel his breath on your face.  Idly, you note it smells like peppermint and you move closer on reflex.

“Yeah? I see you’re still not one to avoid starting a fight in the first place!” you huff.

“Oh, I started it?”  

“Yeah, you started it! You called me a bitch!”

You can’t believe this is happening.  You feel as if you’re 6 again and fighting with him over a toy.

“A sassy bitch, actually,” he corrects, taking another step forward, bodies touching.

“Fuck you!”

“Only if you say please,” he quips before he closes the distance and presses his lips to yours in a scorching hot kiss.

There’s not even a moment of hesitation on your end, immediately pulling him even closer and wrapping your arms around his neck and allowing his tongue entrance to your mouth.  Your body reacts to his instantly, as if it’s wired to respond to him and him only. Your mind was blank of anything except Tae, only Tae please, and you acted purely on instinct alone.  And instinct was pulling him closer and begging, more, anything he could give.

The sound of laughter coming from the hallway pulls you apart, neither of you wanting to get caught by Namjoon or Jin.  You stare at him, his lips are cherry red and slightly swollen and the image burns into your retinas.  He has such pretty lips after you’ve kissed him.

“Oh hey! What’s going on here?” Namjoon asks as he notices the intense eye-battle you’re engaged in with his younger brother.

It shakes you out of the spell, eye contact broken and hypnosis halted.  

“Just, errrr,” you falter to find the right words to explain the situation.

“Just getting reacquainted.”  Tae sounds completely unaffected, as if the passionate kiss you shared with him seconds ago was but a distant memory.  Asshole.

“I’m surprised you two haven’t thrown anything at each other yet,” Jin laughs. “Or thrown yourselves at each other.”

Both you and Taehyung whip to look directly at Jin.

“Her!?” Tae is incredulous. “Gross.”

You’ll never admit out loud that his words wound you.

“You’re an asshole, Taehyung,” you punctuate your words by turning away from him and towards Namjoon, who appears amused as ever.

“Ah, I love when my best friend and my little brother are screaming at each other.  Feels like old times.  Can one of you cry now to complete the moment?”

Taehyung grumbles under his breath, something you can’t catch, and stalks off to his room.  The slam of his door reverberates in the apartment and Jin jumps and turns to yell down the hall at his brother-in-law.

“Yah! Don’t break my apartment! I still owe money on this!”

Despite Taehyung’s appearance every so often in the kitchen or living room, the rest of the night goes on with no annoying disturbances.

Jin spoils you and his husband with expensive food, and the best cheesecake you’ve ever eaten in your life.  Plus, you’re given the bowl to lick clean despite a desperately adorable pout from Namjoon you were sure would persuade Jin.

You’re settled on the couch, snuggling in the middle of the couple as an action movie flickers across the big screen tv.  Truthfully, you haven’t paid attention to a single thing happening, your thoughts entirely too absorbed in Taehyung and that deliciously infuriating kiss.  

Why did he do it?  You couldn’t comprehend his reasoning.  Perhaps he was doing it to piss you off.  He’s never angered you with that level of intimacy before, but you didn’t put it past him.

You’re surprised when the credits of the movie start rolling and Jin and Namjoon fake loud yawns.

“Oh man, I’m beat,” Namjoon lies.

Jin is quick to join. “Me too, I think I’ll pass out the moment I hit the pillow.”

You roll your eyes at the men. “Will you two please go fuck already, I know that’s what you’re going to do.”

Namjoon blanches, but Jin laughs and kisses your cheek. “Ah, my smart, beautiful and chaotic child,” he coos. He leans in to your ear, voice low to keep his husband from listening. “I don’t think I’m the only one in this house who’s going to get pounded into a mattress.”  

He pulls back and winks at you, deftly ignores Namjoon’s confusion and sadness of being left out, and drags him to their bedroom with a loud ‘goodnight’.

You’re left to stew in your own emotions, which is never a good thing.  Was the tension that obvious? You always assumed it had been one-sided, but the kiss befuddled you more than you’d like to admit.

It finally snapped in your mind, all the dots connecting. That’s why he did it.  

He kissed you so you’d stew and simmer and eventually erupt, like you’re doing now.  Taehyung knows you too well for your comfort.

You grab your bag of clothes and storm towards the bathroom to change, promising yourself to forget about the kiss and not give Taehyung what he wants.

Except you’re not very good at promises, especially to yourself.

You can’t say you’re excited to sleep on the couch again.  While it’s a nice couch, it’s definitely not a bed and your back will pay the price tomorrow.  You supposed it was better than the floor, but not by much.

After dressing in your pajamas, a purposefully picked out combination of tiny shorts and a sports bra in case Taehyung happens upon you, you return to your bed for the night in the living room.

Namjoon graciously left blankets and a pillow out for you, and you’re complaining internally about Taehyung the whole time you make yourself a spot to sleep.  If it wasn’t for stupid Taehyung and his stupid existence, you’d be sleeping like a baby on the guest bed that you loved.  But no, they relegated you to the couch like an animal.

Sleep was not in the cards tonight, it seems.  You toss and turn and try to press at the cushions to move a lump around and get comfortable, but it’s all for naught.  You’re wide awake and very, very uncomfortable.  You didn’t understand how you fell asleep on this very couch earlier in the day.  Maybe the mimosas you had at brunch with the couple had been helpful.

A thought crosses your mind. Alcohol.  Maybe a nice glass of wine would help tuck you into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.  A nightcap. Of course.  You were angry at yourself for not thinking of it hours ago.  

You slipped out of your disagreeable bed and into the kitchen, trying not to make a sound.  Jin’s beloved kitchen was also an echo chamber of noise, even the slightest sound bouncing off its walls and amplifying it through the whole house.  You still remember the way you jumped five feet in the air when Jin accidentally broke a plate.  It sounded like a bomb explosion.

You bite your lip as you carefully pry the cabinet of wine glasses open, careful to not even allow a squeak of a hinge.  You silently beg to stay silent and not wake anyone in the house.  You didn’t want to be caught drinking wine at 2 am in the dark, that’s difficult to explain without looking like an alcoholic.

With glass in hand, you tiptoe the fridge to pull out the bottle of merlot, thinking the heavy red wine would be the best to get you sleepy and quick.  

You tug the cork from the bottle and pour a healthy amount into the stemware with a smile.  Liquid sleep.  And you had done it without making a single sound. Perfection. The smell of the alcohol permeates through your nose as you lift the glass, placing it to your lips to take a sip.

“Wine at this hour?” the unexpected voice of Taehyung echos through the kitchen, making you yelp and jolting you hard enough that you drop the hard-earned glass of wine to the tile floor, red wine splashing as the sound of glass shattering is reverberating off the walls.

“Fuck!” You screech at the intruder.  Taehyung doubles over, laughing as if he’s seen nothing funnier than what just transpired.  “You asshole!”

You listen past Taehyung’s incessant laughter to ensure the owners of the apartment hadn’t awoken during the ruckus. You definitely did not want to face a tired and agitated Jin to tell him you shattered one of his Tiffany crystal goblets.

Beyond Tae, the house is silent and you’re thanking whatever god is listening for keeping your best friends asleep.

The wine is everywhere, spilling into the cracks of the tile and splattered on the walls.  The crystal stemware is too; it shattered with such force that you see flecks of the shrapnel in all four corners of the room.

Tae wipes a tear from his face and you square a tempestuous look at him.  

“Fucking help me!  You made me drop it!”

Through snorts, he replies. “I didn’t make you do anything.  You did that on your own.”  Although he is arguing with you, he’s gingerly stepping into the kitchen and kneeling to pick up shards of glass.

“I wouldn’t have dropped it if you had come into the room like a fucking normal person,” you grit.

He collects the glass, the delighted grin on his face now permanent.  He’s relishing in your annoyance, you know he is, and it burns you from the inside out.

“It’s not my fault you didn’t hear me.”

“You could have turned on the light! Why were you in the dark like a freak?”  You’re grasping at straws, anything to pin this all on him.  It would quell the fire in your belly to push it all onto him, make you feel as if you’ve won.

Taehyung levels a look at you.  “And you weren’t also in the dark? Pouring a gallon of wine for yourself?”

Your cheeks flare red. Fuck, he definitely caught you there.  You’re playing verbal poker with him and the hand you’re dealt falls flat compared to his royal flush.  He grins, knowing he has you.

“Fuck you,” you snark, you go to insult when you’re backed into a corner.

“Ah, doll,” he winks.  “We talked about that.  Be careful what you wish for.”

The fire inside you is roaring to an inferno now, flames licking to your core. It’s a complicated mixture of anger and sexual energy. It’s infuriating that he’s able to make you feel every single emotion to the extreme. You hate that arguing with him turns you on, like it’s some perverse foreplay.  

You moisten your lips with your tongue as you process his words, and Tae’s eyes hungrily track the appendage as it glides over your lips.

“Fuck. You.” You emphasize perfunctorily.

All thoughts of wiping up the mess are forgotten as Tae drags both you and himself off the floor and steers you to the living room, lips feverish against your own.  He pushes you into the couch and tugs his shirt off, before replacing his lips to yours.  

“Fuck, you’re so fucking hot when you’re a bitch,” he groans as he snaps the strap of your sports bra. “Seeing you get all worked up makes me so hard.”

He’s not wrong. You can see through his mesh basketball shorts that he’s sporting an impressive package, rock hard in its clothed prison.

“Yeah?” You bite at his lip.

“Hell yeah.”  His hands work to the elastic band under your bust and tugs the offending material off, tits springing free as he throws it to the floor.  

“Holy shit,” Taehyung breathes as he gets a good look at your chest.

You shake them gently, grinning as he watches them jiggle.  “You like what you see?”

He smirks and pinches a nipple, wiping the coy smile off your face and turning it into a moan.  “I like when you’re mouthy, but don’t push it.”  

He lowers his head to the nipple he’s still pinching in his fingers, licking at it and replacing his fingers with his mouth.  He’s moaning around the nipple, and you’re gasping for more.  His hot mouth sucks at you, teeth nibbling and pulling it until you’re whimpering in delicious pain.

“Fuck!” He cries as he pops away from your nipple.  “You’re so fucking hot.”

Your body warms at his words, arousal pooling between your legs.  You’re sure that your thighs are drenched in your essence.

He slurps your neglected breast into his mouth, ensuring your nipples are equally abused.  His tongue is skilled but his mouth is messy, saliva dripping all around your tit and it’s the hottest fucking sight you’ve ever seen.

He’s pulling away again and pinching both nipples with his hands simultaneously. “And you’re so fucking annoying.”

You’re pleading for more or to stop, you’re not sure.  He continues.

“Mm, I’m gonna fuck you until you’re a good little bitch for me. Listening to every fucking thing I say.”

He releases your nipples, and you finally find the ability to focus again, staring directly at him.

“Oh, you think you’re that good?” you sass as you attempt to catch your breath.  “Put your money where your mouth is.”

Tae grips your chin roughly, face inches away from yours with a sadistic grin. “You’re going to regret those words, baby.”

Instantly, he’s standing up and tugging his shorts down to let his cock spring free.  Your brain misfires as you visually measure his cock and your mouth goes dry. He’s thick and long. The bulbous head is dripping pre-cum, begging you to slurp it up.

“How about I put my money where your mouth is,” he suggests as he grabs a fistful of your hair.  

He teasingly rubs his cock on your lips and cheeks, makes you whimper with need. Your tongue is sticking out, desperate for him to lay it on you.

“Already so fucking greedy,” he grunts and in one motion, directs his dick into your open mouth. “I’ll fuck your throat, yeah? Greedy bitches love getting face fucked.”  He is still for a beat more, eyes searching yours for consent and you nod with his cock still in your mouth. He winks, then begins a rapid pace, his cock fucking into your mouth and throat.

You’re sure you look like a goddamn mess with saliva dripping from your mouth as Taehyung punishes your throat with his thrusts.  You gag and moan around him, and he tightens his grip in your hair as you see stars.

It’s indescribable. Never have you felt such pleasure from sucking cock, but Tae commands your entire body, willing you to drip with anticipation.

“My little fuck toy, god you feel so fucking good,” he hisses. “You’re gonna swallow my cum, baby.”  

His hips are stuttering, he’s close, and you’re sucking him harder, cheeks pulling in harder to vacuum him in. The pressure makes him groan out loud.

“So good, so fucking good. Get ready for your prize, baby,” his voice cuts off in a gasp, as his cock twitches violently. His legs shake and he doesn’t hold back the moans of his orgasm, gasping as he feels rope after rope spill down your hot throat.

Your big doll eyes are twinkling up at him, lips still wrapped around his cock. Taehyung is sure it’s the hottest thing he’ll ever see in his lifetime.  You on your knees, subservient to him and thriving for it.

“Mmm, I like it when your mouth is full like this,” he slowly pulls out of your mouth, albeit reluctantly. “Can’t talk back to me when you’re sucking my cock like a whore.”

You smile and stick out your tongue, pleased to show him you happily accepted his cum.

“Good fucking girl,” he coos as he grips your chin again. “Did you like my cum?”

You nod, brain fried from the heat of the room.

“Use your words,” he grits and grips your jaw harder. It’s enough to shock you into compliance.

“Y-yes! Fuck, I love your cum, Tae.”  Your words are breathy and raspy, throat raw from his barrage.

“I knew you would, filthy slut.  Sit on the couch.” He orders and you’re quick to scurry and sit on the makeshift bed you made.

His hands are tugging down your shorts quickly. No teasing or seduction here, not now. You lift your hips, and he throws them aside. Your legs close on reflex, making him growl.

“Do not hide yourself from me.” His tone is dark and you can’t help but shiver as you open yourself up to him. You want to talk back, want to fight and bite at him, but you’re quickly losing the ability to even speak, and you’re aching for him.

“Where’s my mouthy little bitch? You’re awfully quiet. Did I finally break you?” He teases, pressing your legs upward, knees to your ears. It’s pornographic how on display you are for him, soaking wet cunt front and center.

“The great Taehyung thinks he can break me with his cock,” you mewl, mustering all the false confidence you can. You’re lying through your fucking teeth and you both know it, but you continue. “You’ll have to do more than that.”

Your pussy is quaking with need now, desperate for a single touch. His hands maintain purchase on the backs of your thighs, holding them up.

“There she is,” he bites at the flesh of your leg closest to him which makes you jerk in his hold. “Gonna fuck the brat right out of you.”

He removes a hand from your thigh and you’re quick to pick up the slack, holding the thigh in place to maintain his open show of your pussy.

“Try me,” you murmur, and you’re instantly regretting your words as a harsh slap descends and lands square on your cunt.

You nearly scream, pain flooding your wanton pussy, before turning into delicious pleasure that stings and tingles right at your clit. It sizzles, and warmth blooms where his hand was.

“That’s for not believing me.”  His eyes are feral and you want to bottle this memory forever.  

Another slap has your legs trembling, eyes rolling back as the burn turns to a low heat.  You’re dripping your wetness down onto the couch and Jin will kill you, but you don’t care.

“That was for calling me a dick,” he smirks.

Smack.

Tears spring in your eyes as the slap brings more pleasure than pain, desperately close to your edge.

“Look at you, you could cum just from this, couldn’t you?”

“F-fuck! Yes, please, I need more, please!” Your cunt is clenching around nothing, desperate for friction and leaking out of you like a faucet. Taehyung marvels at you, legs spread so far, with a cunt weeping with arousal for more. He can’t wait to dive in there, but he’s not finished with you yet.

“More? I don’t know if you deserve more, baby, you’ve been awfully mean to me,” he tsks, breathing hot air on your clit, making you whine.

“P-please! I’m sorry!” You’re sure you will black out with how desperately you need him. You need him more than you need oxygen.

“Beg.”

You’re quick to submit. Thoughts of fighting back are long gone, you’re his wanton little slut now.

“Please, please! Pleaseeeee, make me cum! I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” He asks with an arch of his eyebrow.

You’re nodding wildly, gazing at him with desperate, watery eyes.

“Anything, I need you so f-fucking bad it hurts!”

By the time the words leave your lips, he’s thrusting two fingers into your cunt viciously, fingering you ferociously. He arches them, rubbing against your spongy g-spot and making you scream. He knows you’re close, knows you only need one little push off the edge. He plays your body like a skilled practitioner.

“Cum on my fingers, baby. Let me see my greedy little bitch milk my fingers.”

Your body and mind react accordingly, deep down you know your body is owned completely by him, all his.  Your orgasm explodes and you think you actually scream, your vision is black and your hearing goes silent for a moment as you cum harder than you have in your life.  You’re squeezing his fingers with your pussy so tight and Taehyung is gently licking all the juices from his hand with his fingers still inside you.

It takes time to descend from the separate plane of existence Taehyung sent you too, but you come back and watch as he laps at the liquid of your cunt and on his hand like it’s a vital necessity. His fingers remain in your walls, and he refuses to break eye contact with you. You’re positive you could cum again from the sight.

“My little cockslut tastes so good, just how I like,” he tells you tenderly. “Like cherries, so sweet.  My little cherry.”

Your cunt is aching and warming back to life as he pulls his fingers out of you. The loss is immense and you’re whimpering for more.

“Ah, ah,” he hushes you. “No whining. You’ll take what I give you.  Suck my fingers clean. Taste yourself.”

He presses his fingers into your mouth, earning him a sigh, the taste of you filling your mouth. You swirl your tongue around his fingers and suckle each one to ensure your tongue laves the entire surface.

“Fuck,” he whispers and it’s his first crack in his steel reserve. “Needy.”

He pulls his fingers from your mouth and presses against you to kiss. It’s gentle, sweet, and nothing compared to the man assailing your pussy with slaps moments ago. It thrills you just the same and you return in kind, threading your hands in his wavy hair.

He pulls away and presses his forehead against yours, a moment of gentleness you actively welcome.

“This little cunt ready for me?” He whispers and you’re whimpering your reply.

“Please, fuck me. I need you to fuck me until I can’t walk.”

He grins and presses a kiss to your lips again, sweet and chaste, before he pulls away and slides down to attach those same sinful lips to your pussy.

It’s so unexpected you flinch and manage a cry as his tongue slurps up more of your delicious essence and his mouth moves to suckle on your clit. You’re not sure where the fuck he learned these tricks, but you know now you will never let him go.

“Taehyung!” You cry at the sensation. “Fuck!”

After receiving the reaction he was desperate for, he slips his tongue into your walls deep and gathers as much of you as he can, before he’s pulling back and swallowing you down.

“I couldn’t resist. Your cunt was made for me to devour.”

He doesn’t allow for a response as he throws your legs over his shoulders and lines himself up at your core.

“Condom?” He asks you, and you level a quick look at him.

“I don’t live here! I don’t have any!”  You’re savage, terrified he’ll pull his cock away when all you want and can think about is the way he’ll feel pounding into you.

“Don’t be rude, baby,” he reminds you with a swat to your ass. “I’m clean, promise. You?”

You nod quickly, reveling in the spank’s tingle. “Same. I have an IUD too,” you sigh. Thank god for medical birth control implants.

“Good. You’re the only pussy I’m gonna fuck from now on,” he promises. You know you must talk about this later, when you’re thinking rationally and not with your aching pussy.  

Your heart stutters and leaps into your throat but all is forgotten as he plunges into your tight heat.

“Ohhhhh shit, ahhh,” he gasps. “Baby, you’re so fucking tight and wet.”  He’s on the verge of whining, becoming just as needy and greedy as you.  He wastes no time in setting a pace.

His cock fills you completely, his angle allowing him to go as deep as he can, pressing the beginning of your cervix.  This is surely what heaven feels like.  It feels like the completeness you feel with Taehyung fully sheathed inside you.

It comes alive with flames and explosions as he fucks you, hips pistoning to plunge in and out of you with tenacity.  He fucks you like he laces every single thrust with more, more than just sex. He fucks you with purpose.

You’re moaning like a pornstar now, high pitch wails and gasps and breathy moans are all you can manage. “Taehyung, yes! Feel so g-g-good!”

“That’s right baby, scream my fucking name. Make sure all the neighbors know who fucking ruined you,” he nearly spits, cock thrusting into your core at an impossible speed. “I want you to tell all of Korea who owns you. Who owns this tiny little cunt?”

The wind leaves you, and you’re gasping for air, gaping mouth open as you try to reply. It takes him fucking into you harder a few times before you feel it rush back into you.

“You, Taehyung!  You!  Fuck, I love your cock!”

His thumb rubs at your engorged clit, allowing it the friction it seeks.  He bends forward and wraps his other hand around your throat, squeezing.  

Losing air combined with the friction on your clit has you keening, so close to the edge. You try to babble his name but nothing comes out.

“Look at my pretty little slut taking my cock so well,” he praises.  “You have the greediest pussy, don’t you? You need my cock daily, baby. Need to put my mouthy bitch in her place, remind her who’s in charge.”

He slows his pace but his thrusts are punishing, fucking into you as hard as he can. Your orgasm is climbing so impossibly high.

“F-fuck!” You gasp as he releases his grip on your neck. “Gonna cum! Please let me cum!”  

“Yeah baby, cum for me.  Cream your greedy pussy all over my cock.”

The world stops spinning as you hit the height of your climax and plunge down.  Your vision goes black and your body is quivering and convulsing nearly as hard as your cunt is. Taehyung hisses at your walls sucking him in, as if you’re begging for his cum, begging for more.

“Fuck, good girl, baby, holy shit,” he’s breathless and so close.

You’re overstimulated, boneless, but he wrought two of the best orgasms you’ve ever felt in your life and you’ll be damned if you leave him high and dry.  You bite your lip as you move with him, hips pounding against each other. His face is scrunched up and you know he’s close when he’s stuttering on his words.  You take over for him.

“Please cum in me baby, please.  Fill me up. I’m yours, baby, mark my little cunt as yours.”  You don’t know where it’s coming from, but you keep it going. It feels as natural as fucking him does. “Please, Taehyung!”

At the sound of his name leaving you in a whine, he spirals down his own completion. He feels his cock pulse as he empties his load into you, your walls still reverently beckoning for him. He’s calling out your name, grasping at your tits as he finishes and you’re smiling from ear to ear. Your pussy is warm with his seed and you’re positive it’s the way you want to feel every single night.

“Holy fuck,” Taehyung rasps as he pulls his cock out of you. He thrills as he watches his cum follow, slipping out your folds and down your thigh. “I definitely marked you.”

You hum in reply, finally allowing yourself to soak in the haze of orgasmic bliss. Tae presses his head to yours again, kissing you sweetly.

“Come sleep in my bed?” He asks. He means more behind it. He wants to ask you to sleep in his bed every night, stay with him every day, be the one he grows old with. He knows there’s still more to talk about, wounds of the past to heal, but now you’re with him, and he knows he’ll work through anything.

You nod, and kiss him again, understanding his hidden meaning laced in his words.

A sly smile spreads across his face. “Last one to bed has to take the blame for the wineglass,” he teases. Your head spins as if you’ve got whiplash.  He can switch from dominating to sensitive to the little shit he is so quick.

“Hey! No fucking fair! You fucked my ability to run out of me!”

“Shouldn’t have been such a sassy bitch,” he winks before he tears away towards his room.

“Taehyung, you’re an asshole!” You call as you limp your way behind him.

From behind Joon and Jin’s door, a critical voice bellows, “YAH! I’ll kill you if you got your jizz on my couch! And what is this I heard about my glass!!? HEY!  Those are TIFFANY. CRYSTAL. THE DISRESPECT!”

You slip into Taehyung’s bed and wrap yourself around him, the two of you gasping with mischievous giggles.

Kim Taehyung will always be the one who knows how to drive you wild. He’ll always aggravate and infuriate you, send you reeling.

But now you didn’t think you minded it at all.

© ppersonna - 2020 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

[wanderingwomanwondering]

Buddie 508 - Fireside Chat Scene

Continuing what I started here.

This post is a long one. Please forgive me.

After their first attempt to save parker and his baby sister, buck and eddie are back at the truck resupplying and eddie is clearly on the edge of panic attack as he struggles to make sense of losing two kids in the fire.

I’ve seen some people say that buck is resigned in these scenes. Resigned to business as usual with eddie. Resigned to all that’s unspoken between them. I can grok that but I think there may be another layer actually??? There’s the unspoken trauma and their evolving relationships/feelings for sure, but there’s also the emergency nature of the situation at hand and their existing if rocky friendship dynamics. I’m gonna try to explain what I mean so bear with me because I don’t know if it’s even clear in my head yet.

Buck and eddie have their usual relationship dynamics. They have each other’s backs, inside and outside of the firefam. They care about each other and protect each other as much as they can, emotionally and physically. We’ve seen buck especially risk his life to save eddie’s and we’ve seen eddie especially hold buck’s emotional health in his hands and offer whatever he can to soothe him, heal him, and help him gain new perspective where necessary. 

We get these typical dynamics because of who each man is as a person. Buck is the daredevil protector family-man risking life and limb for his loved ones. Eddie is the controlled, emotionally-reserved fighter family-man doing anything he can to protect the hearts of the people he loves. We see it regularly with how he interacts with both buck and chris, infinite grace that he never affords himself. Especially this season we see how important heart is to eddie in particular because of his long-standing issues with his own heart/emotional health and his overwhelming concern for chris’s heart especially (and buck’s but we haven’t quite gotten there yet in the narrative). 

Obviously both eddie and buck are not strictly or only these things but it’s their baseline.

Well the baselines are changing due to the unresolved trauma they shared, the will eddie revised, and the evolving romantic feelings between them. The rules of engagement are changing and neither has the new manual! They aren’t talking to each other because they don’t have the new manual and they don’t have the new manual because they aren’t talking to each other. It’s driving me crazy but that’s a side note. 

They still see each other in the old light, the light before everything changed between them. This matters because all they have to work with is the old rule book to work with right now. The old rules are inadequate beyond measure at this point! 

Cue eddie’s near panic attack after thinking they lost the parker and his baby sister. This scene beautifully highlights that the old rules are trash. Buck wants to help, needs to help. He has empathy on his face while he’s telling eddie that they need to put it away and save the next one. It’s clear that he’s empathizing by his “we” language and his facial expression. It’s also clear that he’s trying to be the rock. Trying not to introduce more heavy emotions to a man that traditionally does not handle his own emotions well. Thanks Ramon. Buck is going back to the existing rule book because now is not the time or place or situation to try to write new ones or have a huge cathartic emotional moment.

Everything unspoken between them guarantees that if buck pulls on one thread, others will fray and unravel for both of them. It’ also true that eddie can’t and won’t ask for anything else right now, though he desperately needs something else right now, but he doesn’t know what that is and neither does buck. So we put it away and we save the next one. And it works for both of them for now. Not at all emotionally but they do the job and that is what they are there for. The rest has to come later.

The scene helps us and buddie see that later has to come and it has to come correct because eddie is obviously not okay and buck who needs to talk looks like he’s biting his tongue the whole time even while he’s empathizing and handing eddie an oxygen tank. Breathe enough for now to run back into the burning building. Breathe enough for now to carry on.

But eddie’s reflection is in pieces, fragmented and broken. Buck’s reflection is washed in the red of the firetruck, barely visible the way they filmed it but still there. Both men need a new mirror, a new reflection and that has to come from one another. They are at work but alone together in this scene. No other firefam folks are present. The show is reinforcing that when buck and eddie break, it will be between them. They have to deal with the changing relationship dynamics between them, write a new rule book. They’re struggling to get through their day because they won’t deal with things.

When they learn that parker and his baby sister are still alive, buck and eddie’s reactions are interesting. Buck is shocked. He’d given up but really he never gives up. Like I said, I see how we came to the conclusion that he’s resigned but I don’t think so when you get down to it. He’s waiting for a sign. He’s waiting for insight. He’s waiting for some sort of in/access point. Even if he worries that it will never come. Eddie is the one who catches the issue that initially made them think that parker and sis were dead. The reflection/perspective/point of view/self-image was off, backwards. The kid didn’t know where he was and neither do eddie and buck.

That fact underscores again that buck and eddie have to see themselves and each other. They have to turn the image around so that they can move forward. They have to find the rooms they are each actually holed up in instead the rooms where they think they are. It’s all about being disoriented and having to reorient. I think that’s going to involve some perspective taking and some changes in how they see themselves.

Buck can be the one taking care of eddie. Eddie can be the one being taken care of. A call back to the balcony scene. 

Buck can invite emotional conversations without focusing on his own emotional needs and instead focus on eddie. Buck is used to people swooping in the take care of him emotionally (literally every conversation he’s had with maddie, most of his conversations with bobby, most of his conversations with eddie, imma just say it: even the tsunami arc where chris literally reassured him and gave him his personal playbook on how to deal with adversity). I want to be clear - it’s great that buck has support and when he starts to feel worthless people help him through it. But it’s time for a new rule book. It’s time for buck to be the one taking care of eddie. It’s time for eddie to learn how to create space for that to happen and to allow it!

Eddie can open up about his emotions. It’s okay if they are raw and unfiltered, buck can handle it. Eddie can ask for what he’s needs and figure out what that is with buck as a support/sounding board. Eddie can let go of his reserved repressed MO but he has to actually do that and all the work that entails. He’d usually rather run into a flaming building under cover of night than talk about his own feelings. If he doesn’t honestly talk to buck then buck is under no obligation to drag it out of him. He will but he shouldn’t have to. We’ve seen eddie trust buck in so many ways but real talk: his own emotions still are not a thing eddie talks about openly with buck and when he does it isn’t in detail. Basically we have the sh*nnon conversation in the s2 christmas ep where he honestly shared, unprompted his shame and guilt over everything that went down in the early years of his marriage and fatherhood. That’s kinda it. Everything else has been by chris-proxy. Buck and the audience have to infer. That gets messy and we are seeing that play out in s5! Eddie has to quit doing that and be vulnerable on purpose and also minimize the post-share retreat! That’s eddie’s work. Buck can’t do it for him. He can be with him through it but he can’t make anything happen with eddie’s emotional life that eddie himself doesn’t make happen or at least allow.

They both have so much work to do for themselves and with each other. They can and should do that work together and lift each other out of the dark in the process. I have so much faith in them even though I’m in real talk mode about who has what responsibility for their individual and mutual healing.

In the talk at the firetruck after eddie figured out the reversed numbers, buck seemed to have a revelation. The “he’s alive” line is ringing in my ears. The “i’m stlll alive down here” line from eddie begins is still ringing in my ears. Buck is watching and waiting for signs and I think he’s getting closer to realizing that eddie’s in there, suffocating under the weight of everything he refuses to say. And here’s buck who loves to talk, who hates to be avoided, who loves to keep his family together. He just needs an in, an opportunity. A real one. Not a moment of vulnerability during a raging fire while there are still people left to save. Still eddie’s moment obviously wasn’t for nothing. It mattered. It showed buddie and the audience what is and is not working with the current rules of engagement.

Between that and the situation with parker & sis, i think buck is starting to see his in. He sees that all is not lost. He can save eddie and eddie can save him. They are both trapped in a raging fire in the dead of night. Together. They have to work together to get out if it, but that will require new perspectives on self and each other, openness, and trust. They’ll get there but they’re not there yet.

This ep is called Defend In Place and that’s what buck and eddie are doing. Barricading themselves in and defending against the rising flames, but that’s not a long term strategy. It’s a stop gap measure to give enough time to accomplish something else, to save others’ lives and eventually/hopefully escape with your own before everything burns to the ground. The buddie fireside chat scene felt like that to me. Buck and eddie holding in place long enough and at an angle to see that something has to change, and seeing what that is consciously (buck, realizing eddie/both of them are struggling loudly) or unconsciously (eddie, giving a few words to his struggle probably without intending to), and then (eventually down the line) wrapping an arm around loved ones and getting the hell out bound for new not-on-fire territory.

[brattyfics]

family day | writer wednesday

Pairing: Ezekiel Reyes x Black!OFC [Lena] Summary: Lena comes to the clubhouse to meet the guys. Tags: Angsty Fluff, Unresolved Feelings. Word Count: 1.5k

“Come by the clubhouse this weekend. We’re having a cookout. A family day.”

Lena tutted her skepticism while Ezekiel spoke. She had only caught glimpses of the Mayans’ gatherings, parties, whatever, but nothing about them screamed family-friendly. “Pops and Angel will be there.” She wanted to giggle at him using his father and brother as bargaining chips, but his voice had gotten more desperate with each word until he was almost pleading. She pouted on the other end of the line. He wasn’t playing fair.

“And most importantly...you?” Lena teased. He smiled. She could hear it in his tone. “Yeah. I’ll be there too. You?” She let out a dramatic sigh as if he were pulling her leg, but she had already made up her mind.

Since she and Ezekiel reconnected, Lena found herself in Santo Padre every other weekend. Usually, she arrived early on Saturday mornings, and Ezekiel held her close on his pull-out bed (which was surprisingly comfy considering). When they finally awoke for the day, he took her on little adventures. It was always something sweet and exciting-- an intimate ride on the back of his bike to somewhere beautiful. They revisited the beach, this time during the day. He chased her around in the sand, tickled her from behind in the salty water. Lena was able to stop and relax, see things she would never have been able to otherwise. It was so easy to get lost in the hustle and bustle of city living. She missed the simplistic beauty of nature.

Other times, he took her places to remind her of the past. The Carnival they frequented as teenagers, to the old ice cream parlor down the street from his dad’s shop. They spent all the time they could together, and when Ezekiel was busy with club business, she spent the time with her parents, helping them out around the house with whatever she could. There wasn’t much to do, there had never been, but something about it was enjoyable. Being in Santo Padre felt like stepping into a time machine. Nothing had changed. It was psychological warfare on Ezekiel’s part, but Lena never called him out on it. So, she relented, the way she always did when it came to him. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”

True to her word, Lena arrived at the Mayans clubhouse around noon, several homemade cakes in tow. Ezekiel met her outside as she was getting out of the car. “I didn’t know you still baked.” It had been a hobby of hers in high school, something inexpensive and fun to do while stuck in the house. Many things about her had changed, but some hadn’t. The thought made him smile. Maybe there was more hope for them than she thought after all.

“I told you, you didn’t have to bring anything.”

“I know, but I don’t like to show up places empty-handed. Can you take this, please? I need to get the other boxes out of the car still.” Ezekiel scooped the cardboard cake box from her. She kissed his cheek in thanks. It was out of instinct, an old habit, but he froze.

“What, I can’t kiss you now?” Yes, they had been sleeping together. Quite often, actually. And they had been going out on what most people would call dates, but they hadn’t been kissing. Not really. It would make what they were doing real. Lena avoided it as much as possible to protect herself. But the lines had started to blur, and she couldn’t distinguish the nostalgia from her real feelings. She would have to make a decision soon.

Ezekiel took advantage of her being distracted, pushing forward until her back rested against the closed car door. He sat the cake box on top of the car. “You can kiss me as much as you want. I just prefer you do it...” His lips brushed against hers. “...here.” She couldn’t think about anything when he kissed her like that. Nothing but him, the way he tasted on her tongue, what he felt like up against her. She closed her eyes tight and tried to memorize it all, kissing him with just as much desperation.

“Damn, Prospect, I know you’ve been out of the game awhile, but you should at least get the lady inside the trailer first!”

And then Angel fucking Reyes had to go and ruin it.

Ezekiel broke the kiss with a groan, giving his older brother a scalding look over his shoulder. But Angel didn’t care about things like not interrupting people or being polite, so he made his way over to them anyway, clapping his baby brother on the back. “Give her some room, bro.” He tested his luck, elbowing Ezekiel to the side. He filled the space, pulling Lena into a tight hug before his brother could retaliate.

“Are you really using me as a shield right now?” She complained, arms loosely hanging at her sides.

“Yes. Now, hug me back.” Angel would hold onto her until she did what he wanted. She knew that for a fact, so she brought her arms up to wrap around his midsection. “It’s good to see you.” He mumbled into her hair. “You too.” And she meant it, squeezing him back before letting go.

“Ooh. What’s this?” He cajoled when his eyes caught sight of the box.

“Cake.” Ezekiel answered for him dryly.

Angel snorted, rolling his eyes. “Obviously, Boy Scout. What kind is it, Lena?” She glanced over her shoulder at it, to be sure. “It’s vanilla cake with buttercream icing.”

“Vanilla? Aww, man. Where’s the chocolate? You know that’s my favorite.” EZ cut his brother’s complaining short. “You don’t like it, don’t eat it.”

“Shut up.” Two words from Angel was all it took for the two of them to start bickering. Angel grabbed for his brother’s thick neck, trying and failing to pull him into a chokehold. Ezekiel got the upper hand, and then the two of them were grappling, kicking up red dust in the process while they talked shit to each other. Lena sighed and stepped out of their way. “I see nothing’s changed.”

The sound of their scuffle gathered the attention of the other Mayans. Coco, who Lena thought she recognized as Angel’s friend, was among them. The shortest man of the group headed the bunch, kissing his teeth when he saw the fuss was just Angel and Ezekiel. Again.

“Break it up!”

Lena flinched, and she wasn’t even doing anything wrong! The brothers broke apart immediately, then sat down in the dirt, out of breath and wearing sheepish expressions. They were children. Lena refrained from the “If Marisol were here...” speech she so desperately wanted to give, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Hi, querida. You must be Lena.” The man introduced himself as Bishop, taking her hand to kiss.

“Oh, yes. Hi.” She squeaked out, suddenly shy. Ezekiel stood, grabbing hold of her waist, and took over the introductions. “Guys, Lena. Lena, this is...” He went down the line one by one, and she smiled politely and nodded along. She was flattered that they already seemed to be familiar with her. Ezekiel had to run around talking about her all day. The thought made her heart ache.

Bishop directed the guys to help her with the rest of the stuff. Tranq balanced a cake in each hand, Coco taking the bag with the cake cutters and plastic forks. Angel was pleased to learn that one of them had chocolate-flavored icing with yellow cake on the inside, just the way he liked it.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Bishop told her with a smile, patting her hand one final time. “Nice to meet you too.” She called after him while Ezekiel muttered something under his breath in a grumpy tone.

Lena got to know their guys and their families. She learned she had met Coco before, and she got to meet his teenage daughter, Letty. She was sweet in an adorable, hissing cat sort of way. Lena teased Ezekiel about Letty having a little crush on him, but he denied it. Swore Letty just appreciated him for helping her out with something. He wouldn’t elaborate on what the something was.

“I get it now.” Lena told him when they found themselves alone by the abandoned fire pit. She sat on the wooden bench next to him, halfway into his lap, a warm flannel blanket on top of them. He watched her closely. “You do?”

“Yeah. You have a place here. Community. Family. It’s nice.” They had played a card game earlier. The guys traded friendly insults across the table, but it was all out of love. She felt it.

“Mhm.” He looked down and cleared his throat. “Does that change anything? For you?” Lena considered it, drowning in the hopefulness in his hazel eyes. How could she tell him no? Say goodbye forever to those eyes?

“I don’t know. I mean, I’m not sure what I was expecting. Everyone’s so nice. Well, except Angel, but I already knew that.” Ezekiel smirked. “Yeah, he was born an ass.” He brought the cold beer bottle to his lips to sip, and then he got quiet.

“Do you think you’d like to come to another?”

Lena nodded. “Yeah, I think I would.”

Notes: Inspired by this week's prompt by @autumnleaves1991-blog. Card game is only briefly mentioned, but what can I say, I followed the muse?

@thesandbeneathmytoes​ This is for you. I’m slowly pulling it together. ❤️

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