#you are in her kitchen trying to make breakfast for you your boyfriend his mother and father who hasn't said anything the entire time 6/?

[delulustateofmind]

You Can't Just Play God

SatoSugu x Reader Inspired by a comic on Webtoon: Never Ending Darling and that one anon asking about how things would go if you were dating Geto and Gojo entered the relationship instead.

TW: No Curse AU/Modern Au, Horror? Yandere Behaviors (Obsessive, Possessive, Manipulation, Etc.), SatoSugu, Dubcon, Implied Noncon, Murder, Disturbing deaths, Blood, Gun violence, Reader Dies Multiple Times, smut, spooky lab tech (not used for smut), academic theft. MDNI. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

WC: 7.5k

Enjoy! I'm going to touch grass now :)

The cycle repeats.

A new age, a new era—and you had a goddamn headache.

The chimes of your alarm dragged you out of sleep, their shrill notes cutting through the haze clouding your mind. A groan slipped through your lips as you sluggishly threw an arm over your face as the sun’s obnoxiously bright rays streamed through your curtains, making everything somehow worse. Judging by the pounding in your skull, you had to assume you were hungover. Not that you could confirm it—these days, your memories were more like fragmented snapshots, and last night was no exception.

Reaching for your side table, you fumbled to silence the grating K.K. Slider alarm jingle that seemed ten times louder than usual. The sudden quiet was a relief, but only for a moment. Your groan deepened as you noticed the sweet note left behind by your boyfriend—no, fiancé. That term still felt foreign, awkward on your tongue.

“For the love of my life, please stop with your antics, sweet girl.” —Sugu.

Beside the note sat a neatly placed hangover tonic and a couple of pills, his familiar thoughtfulness easing some of the tension in your chest. You popped the pills and chased them with the tonic, grateful for his foresight, though the nagging truth lingered: you didn’t remember going out last night. At all.

The sensation wasn’t new, but it never got less unsettling. A blank space where memories should be. A creeping sense of unease settled over you as you swung your legs over the edge of the bed. Your head throbbed with the effort, each beat of the headache a sharp reminder of how little control you seemed to have over your own life lately.

You padded downstairs in your pajamas, still half-asleep and half-questioning your existence. The familiar scent of breakfast wafted through the house, but it did little to clear the fog in your mind. Despite Suguru’s persistent efforts, you still lived at home with your parents. You’d insisted you weren’t ready to move in with him yet. He’d even offered to kick out his roommate and business partner—your college best friend, Gojo Satoru—to make space for you. You still said no.

“You’re so lucky to have a man like him, Y/N,” your mother chimed from the kitchen, her voice cutting through your haze. She stood by the stove, spatula in hand, her words laced with just enough mom judgment to make you wince. “He carried you home, helped you shower, and got you changed. You don’t find men like that anymore.”

You don't remember any of that however -

She wasn’t wrong. Somehow, you’d managed to score Geto Suguru, the golden boy of your university days and a literal campus heartthrob. Dreamy looks, a sharp mind, and a personality that could charm even the grumpiest professor. He was, by all accounts, perfect. A goddamn dreamboat. And all because you were friends—well, “friends”—with Gojo Satoru.

The term "friends" was generous. You’d been stuck with him for every group project and PhD research assignment imaginable, his sharp intellect rivaled only by his inability to take anything seriously. Yet, through some twist of fate, that irritating partnership had landed you Suguru.

And now, here you were: hungover, disoriented, and trying to piece together just how you’d gotten so lucky. Lucky wasn’t the right word—it was a miracle. A once-in-a-lifetime kind of miracle.

As you poured yourself a glass of water and leaned against the counter, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to last night than just drinks and laughter. Maybe you should stop drinking.

Because while you had a doctorate, had been part of some of the most groundbreaking research in the medical field, and somehow scored a partner who now co-owned one of the biggest medical organizations in the country…

You still didn’t have a real job.

Sure, you worked at a café on weekends, but that didn’t exactly scream “career success.” The smell of burnt espresso and sugary syrups clung to your clothes, and your paycheck barely covered your expenses and crippling student debt.

Suguru had been practically begging you to come work with him. He’d pitched every possible reason, his voice honey-smooth and infuriatingly persuasive. “We’d make a great team,” he’d say, always with that easy smile. Or, “You’d finally get to put that brilliant mind to use,” followed by a soft kiss on your forehead. And, of course, the practical approach: “You could stop getting burned by scalding coffee every other Saturday.”

But your answer never wavered. It was always a firm no.

Why should you take advantage of your boyfriend’s—fiancé’s—accomplishments? It wasn’t his fault you felt like a freeloader in your own life. But working with him would only cement that feeling, wouldn’t it? And let’s be honest: there was no way you could survive the smug, self-satisfied smirks Gojo Satoru would throw your way every. Single. Day.

The thought alone made your headache throb harder.

Your mother’s voice cut through your spiraling thoughts—the kind of thoughts you really should’ve been saving for your therapist. “Did you hear me, Y/N? You’re lucky he even tolerates you living here at your age,” she quipped, half-joking, half-serious.

You sighed, forcing yourself back to the present as she set a plate of breakfast in front of you. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered if Suguru’s offer would ever stop looming over you.

“Can you bring Suguru his bento? Oh, and I made one for Satoru, too! You don’t bring him around anymore. I miss that cute smile of his,” your mother hummed, nodding toward the perfectly packed bento boxes lined up on the counter.

Dragging a hand down your face. At least running this errand was better than being stuck at home, drowning in wedding prep, and trying on half a million dresses your mom insisted on. “It’s the least you could do,” she always said, as if you weren’t already suffocating under the weight of your own existential dread.

“Sure,” you muttered, knowing resistance was futile. Besides, it wasn’t like you had any real plans today.

After a quick shower and throwing on something that looked presentable enough for public, you grabbed the bento boxes and headed out. The warm sunlight and cool breeze were a temporary reprieve, a small comfort as you made your way to their office—their office.

 It was better than the alternative of staying at home and listening to your mother’s words about floral centerpieces and seating arrangements. Barely.

Their company was part of this “new era,” the one everyone couldn’t stop raving about—and you’d been a huge part of its foundation. Back in the day, you and Satoru had cracked the code to altering DNA, finding a way to cheat death. If you could afford the astronomical price tag, mortality was no longer your concern. People who were once riddled with cancer could now return home cancer-free, spared the agony of losing limbs or enduring endless rounds of chemo.

You’d only been part of solving the formula, though. The groundwork. Satoru had the funding, the connections, and the relentless drive to take it further. Once you stepped out of the picture, you hadn’t kept track of the system or its progress. You didn’t ask, and no one offered answers.

The alteration had been applied to most of the foundational jobs—political leaders, police officers, high-ranking officials. It was a standard requirement now, a guarantee of longevity and efficiency in roles deemed too crucial to risk mortality.

These days, people were willing to go into crippling debt to get the procedure done, their desperation outweighing the staggering price. After all, what was a lifetime of debt if you couldn’t die? No risk of death meant no fear of defaulting, and for many, that trade-off was worth it.

The procedure had shifted society’s balance, turning death into a choice rather than an inevitability—but at a cost few truly understood.

The business was beginning to have a cult following after being backed by the world's leaders.

And yet, not everyone shared the world’s admiration for the scientific marvel housed within that towering, double-helix-shaped skyscraper in the heart of Tokyo. Protestors were a constant presence outside the building, their chants about ethics blending with the dramatic videos they displayed of humanity spiraling into chaos. You’d seen their demonstrations so many times it had faded into background noise.

Still, as you approached the sleek, futuristic entrance, a pang of guilt crept in. What had once been your passion now felt like a story you’d abandoned—a story that no longer felt like yours.

Maybe there was a hint of resentment buried beneath the guilt. Maybe, deep down, you wished you’d taken Satoru’s offer back then, even if you knew it wouldn’t have made things easier. But that was a door you’d slammed shut long ago, and no amount of hindsight could undo it.

Shaking your head to clear the thought, you stepped through the automatic doors. The familiar hum of the lobby enveloped you, the pristine white interior and futuristic decor unchanged since the last time you’d been here. Security nodded as you passed, their recognition swift and unquestioning.

The private elevator awaited a sleek capsule of steel and glass that carried you straight to the top floor. The ascent was smooth and silent, yet the weight in your chest grew heavier with every passing second.

There, you were greeted by Suguru’s stunning, sharp-eyed assistant. Even after countless encounters, Manami gave you that same unreadable look—like she was quietly sizing you up, or maybe judging you in some understated, professional way. It wasn’t outright rude, but it was just enough to make your skin crawl.

The treacherous thought crept into your mind, uninvited: Maybe he should be dating her instead. No—marrying her. She fit into his world so effortlessly. Polished, composed, and clearly brilliant, Manami seemed like the perfect match for someone as successful and poised as Suguru. Meanwhile, you still felt like a guest who’d overstayed their welcome, fumbling to keep up in a world that wasn’t yours.

It was a ridiculous thought, and you knew it. Late-night Reddit doom-scrolling had reassured you that insecurities like this were perfectly normal, even if they were soul-crushingly embarrassing. Deep down, you understood that your so-called “little life” wasn’t the problem. The problem was you—stuck in your own head, drowning in doubts that never seemed to let up.

But no matter how loud the voice in your head got, one thing you couldn’t ignore: Suguru would never leave you. You were sure of that. If anything, he clung to you like his life depended on it—unfortunately. And for reasons you couldn’t quite put into words, that unwavering devotion only made it harder to believe you deserved him.

You shifted awkwardly in the too-fancy armchair across from Manami’s desk, clutching the bag of bentos like it might save you from drowning. “Nice weather we’re having,” you mumbled, trying to fill the heavy silence with small talk.

Manami barely glanced up, her manicured fingers pausing just long enough to adjust the nameplate on her desk before resuming their rhythmic clatter against her keyboard.

“Hm,” she hummed, a noncommittal response that somehow managed to sound both polite and dismissive at the same time.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to look anywhere but at her. The room, much like the rest of the building, was sleek and pristine, designed to impress. But the air felt heavy, the quiet tension between you and Manami a constant reminder that this wasn’t your world. It was theirs.

And you weren’t sure you’d ever truly belong.

You sighed, muttering a quiet “Alright,” under your breath, and returned to fidgeting with the straps of the bag. Your eyes wandered down to the weight on your left hand—the engagement ring.

It was stunning. Too stunning. The kind of ring that screamed wealth and class, the kind that seemed like it should belong to someone like her. Another insecure thought, you supposed, but brushing it off was easier said than done. The gnawing doubt settled deep in the pit of your stomach, refusing to budge. Perhaps another conversation to save for your therapist. 

The soft click of a door unlocking snapped you out of your spiral. You looked up to see Suguru stepping out, his familiar, easy smile lighting up his face as his dark eyes landed on you. The way his gaze swept over you still sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach. Even after all this time, he still had that effect on you.

“There’s my sweet girl,” he murmured warmly, his voice low and soothing as he extended a hand toward you.

You stepped forward, slipping your hand into his. His grip was firm yet tender, grounding in a way that made your chest tighten. He gave your hand a small squeeze before adding, “You could’ve waited with Satoru, you know. He misses you.”

The mention of Satoru made your skin crawl. Missed you? That was one way of putting it. You were marrying Suguru, yet Satoru still didn’t seem to grasp the concept of personal space. No matter how often you tried to address it, he always found a way to push the boundaries.

The casual hand lingering too long on your thigh. The hugs that felt tighter and lasted longer than they should. The kisses to your cheek that came far too often to be innocent.

You’d brought it up to Suguru so many times, and his response was always the same, a calm dismissal wrapped in a reassuring smile: “He’s harmless.”

But it didn’t feel harmless to you. Not even close.

Once inside Suguru’s office, you set the bag of bentos down on his desk, taking a step back to collect yourself. Before you could settle, he was already there. The door clicked shut behind him, his long, purposeful strides closing the space between you in seconds.

You barely had time to react before his lips crashed into yours, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you into his arms. The force of the kiss left you breathless, his presence overwhelming as his fingers pressed against the fabric of your shirt.

“Missed you,” he murmured against your lips, his tone softer now, the affection in his voice sending a familiar heat blooming in your chest.

For a moment, you let yourself sink into him, into the comfort of his touch. He always felt safe. A fuel for comfort perhaps. 

“You were such a mess last night,” he murmured against your lips, trailing kisses down to your neck as he pushed you to sit on the edge of his desk. His hands guided your legs around his waist, holding you close as he continued his slow assault of affection. You swallowed hard against the tightness in your throat.

“You’re lucky your friend called me,” he added softly, his words brushing against your skin like a tease.

Closing your eyes, you tilted your head back as his lips moved down the column of your neck. You’d learned not to push him away when he got like this—it always left you feeling guilty afterward.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words barely audible.

Suguru’s fingers worked at the buttons of your blouse, his hands warm and conscious as he hiked up your skirt. You shivered under his touch, the chill of the room clashing with the heat of his hands.

“Can we not do this with your assistant in the other room?” you managed to ask meekly, your voice wavering as his fingertips trailed over your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“I’m having a rough day, my love,” he murmured against your throat, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I didn’t get much sleep after taking care of you last night. I need a little motivation to get through the rest of my day.”

Before you could respond, he gently eased you to lay back on his desk. It was then you realized it had been cleared—papers, files, and everything else neatly tucked away. Had he planned for this?

His lips continued their path down your body, leaving soft kisses and the occasional nip as he went. When he reached the space between your legs, he spread them carefully with his hands, his gaze lingering on you as if savoring every moment.

His tongue pressed against your clothed slit, sending a jolt of heat through your core.

“You’re not wearing the ones I bought you,” he noted, his voice low and teasing.

He was right. Instead of the delicate, expensive pieces he favored—like that itchy white G-string with the little gold charm bearing his initials “G.S”—you’d gone for the practical, cost-effective option: simple cotton underwear from a multipack.

“Wanted to be—” Your breath hitched as his fingers brushed against you, light and teasing, pulling the words from your throat before you could even finish.

“Wanted to be what?” he repeated, his voice dripping with honeyed amusement. His tone was playful, but there was an edge to it—a quiet demand. “Weren’t you taught to finish your sentences?”

The vibrations of his words sent another wave of shivers through you, and your body betrayed you, squirming under his touch. He hummed in approval, the sound low and indulgent as his hand trailed up your inner thigh, his fingers left your skin tingling in their wake.

With practiced ease, he pulled your panties to the side, his lips trailing soft, feather-light kisses along your skin. Then, without hesitation, he leaned in and began to devour you, his tongue hot and insistent, moving with volitional precision that made your back arch against the cool surface of his desk.

It was overwhelming—the way his long tongue slid inside you, the way his thumb circled your most sensitive spot with just the right amount of pressure. He moved as though he had all the time in the world, savoring every moment.

You couldn’t help the soft, pathetic moans that escaped your lips, your hands gripping the edge of the desk for some semblance of stability. Suguru had always been like this—relentless, thorough, and determined to reach every spot that made you unravel.

It wasn’t just physical. He had you memorized. Every shiver, every gasp, every sound you made only spurred him on, his movements calculated to draw out your pleasure until your mind was spinning.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured between kisses, his breath warm against your skin. “Every inch of you.”

His words made your chest tighten, a mix of emotions bubbling to the surface. Love, longing, and something you couldn’t quite name. You wanted to believe his devotion was just that—devotion. But there was a weight to his words, an intensity that sometimes felt... suffocating.

He didn’t stop until your body trembled beneath him, your breaths coming in short, uneven gasps. Suguru lifted his head, his lips glistening as he looked at you with a satisfied smirk. “See?” he whispered, his voice impossibly soft. “I know exactly what you need.”

And you believed him. How could you not, when he made you feel like this? Like you were the center of his world, the only thing that mattered.

“You’re so good for me,” he murmured, his voice low and velvety as he brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. “So, so good.”

In your haze, still trembling from your last orgasm, you felt the blunt, heated tip of his cock pressing against your entrance. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist again, his hands gripping the soft flesh of your thighs. 

“Gotta ease up for me, sweet girl,” he groaned, his voice thick with restraint as he pushed forward, sinking into you inch by girthy inch. The stretch made your breath hitch, your body fluttering around him, still sensitive and raw.

“It’s not gonna feel good if you don’t relax,” he cooed, though his tone carried a sense of control, a reminder that he wasn’t stopping until he had all of you. Whether it hurt or not.

You did your best to loosen the tension in your body, focusing on the soft kisses he pressed against your lips, your cheeks, and the corner of your jaw. They were meant to soothe, but the way he moved—rolling his hips upward, grinding deep—made it impossible to fully relax.

His cock filled you completely, brushing against every spot that left your mind spiraling. The slow, deliberate way he moved, the way he stretched you open, had your hands scrambling for purchase on his desk. Your nails clawed at the wood, and you wouldn’t be surprised if they left permanent marks. Something you were sure he wouldn’t mind. 

“That’s it,” Suguru whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “Taking me so well, sweet girl. Like you were made for this.”

Every thrust was deliberate, deep, and measured, as though he wanted to etch the feeling of him into every fiber of your being. He lifted his head to watch your face, his dark eyes locked on yours, taking in every gasp, every quiver, every plea that spilled from your lips.

“That’s my girl,” he praised, his voice dripping with affection as he cupped your cheek with one hand, the other still gripping your thigh, firm yet gentle as if he was afraid to leave a mark on you despite the harshness of his thrusts. “You’re perfect. So perfect for me.”

Your mind was overwhelmed, the sensations blurring together as his movements became more insistent, relentless in their devotion to unraveling you. Yet, through the haze of pleasure, a small, unwelcome thought surfaced, bubbling up in the back of your mind.

When was the last time you took your pill?

The question lingered, sharp and intrusive, cutting through the heat pooling in your core. You’d been forgetting so much lately—little things, big things, all slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. But it had to be fine. It must be a safe day. Right?

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice steady and low as his hips pressed flush against yours, burying himself to the hilt. “Don’t ever forget that.”

As the words sank in, a faint voice in the back of your mind tried to warn you, tried to remind you of the way Suguru sometimes felt too much. But it was drowned out by the overwhelming mix of his touch, his words, and the way he seemed to pour his entire being into you.

You couldn’t say it back. Whether it was the overwhelming heat, the way you could only let out these broken little whines and moans as your body trembled beneath him, or the way his hot, sticky release spilled deep inside you, filling you up until you couldn’t think straight—you just couldn’t utter those three little words. Some little voice in the back of your mind urged you not to. 

After a moment’s rest, with him carefully cleaning you up, you noticed the delicate way he helped you into some fancy lingerie—pieces he apparently had stored just for moments like this. The charm with “G.S” engraved on it caught the sunlight, glinting mischievously as he slid the panties up your legs.

“Shall we eat with Satoru?” he asked, his tone casual, as if he hadn’t just fucked you within an inch of your life. You could only nod mindlessly, clinging to his arm while he reached for the bag.

You didn’t miss the way Satoru hugged you when you walked into his office, Suguru trailing behind. The way his arms lingered around you just a little too long, his lips brushing your cheek in what felt like more than a friendly kiss. Suguru didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he just didn’t care. It was Satoru, after all. His best friend. His business partner. The two were inseparable.

You also didn’t miss the way Satoru draped an arm over your shoulders while the three of you ate. Suguru and Satoru were caught up in their conversation, filling each other in on meetings and plans, while you picked at your food in silence. Your mind was elsewhere, lost in the strange mix of sensations you couldn’t shake. The cum soaking into the new underwear, the lingering fog in your head, the circles Satoru traced on your arm as he kept you close. Your gaze flickered to the photo on his desk—a snapshot of the three of you. Perfect smiles. Perfect lies.

“Did you hear me, sugar?” Satoru’s voice cut through the haze, his tone teasing. “I was asking how the job search was going. You know, we could always work together again—for old times’ sake.”

You shook your head, forcing a meek smile. “I haven’t heard anything back yet. And the answer’s still no. I’m not into... medical research anymore.”

That was a lie. You were more than capable, but you didn’t want to work with them. You didn’t want to stay stuck in their shadow, even though you’d helped lay the foundation they thrived on.

Satoru chuckled, leaning back in his chair with that infuriatingly confident grin. The way his bright blue eyes glimmered with a glint of mischief. “Still so stubborn. You know, you were the brains behind half of what we’ve built. You’d fit right back in.”

Suguru’s voice cut in smoothly as if to diffuse any tension. “Let her breathe, Satoru. Not everyone is as obsessed with work as you are.” Suguru’s dark eyes settled on you for a brief moment, there was warmth to them, unreadable as always. 

You glanced between them, their banter as familiar as it was unsettling. They made it look so effortless, this balance of power and charm. But you knew better. You felt it in the way Satoru’s fingers tightened ever so slightly on your arm, in the fleeting glance Suguru shot your way when he thought you weren’t looking.

The rest of the meal passed in a haze, their conversation blending into the background. You couldn’t shake the unease curling in your stomach. It wasn’t just the situation—it was them. The way they moved around you like you were something precious and fragile, seamlessly passing control back and forth, a trophy they both claimed but never outright acknowledged.

When the meal ended, Satoru stood, stretching lazily before offering you his hand. “Why don’t you come with me for a bit? I’ve got something to show you.”

You hesitated, your gaze flicking to Suguru, who had already risen and was watching you closely. “It’s okay,” he murmured, his tone unreadable. “I’ll clean up here.”

Caught between the two of them, you nodded and took Satoru’s hand. His grip was firm, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that sent an involuntary made your skin crawl. He led you out of the office and down a hallway you knew all too well. His space. His domain. His lab. 

The door clicked shut behind you, and Satoru turned, his impossibly blue eyes locking onto yours, as sharp as ever. “You’ve been distant,” he said softly, his words gentle but edged with something sharper. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Your gaze drifted over the room, landing on the metal tables scattered with sleek technology. Computer screens hummed with life, displaying endless rows of code, their glow casting faint shadows across the walls. This used to be your life—back in college, when the hum of processors and the thrill of breakthroughs consumed you. Now, it all felt foreign, like a distant memory you weren’t sure you wanted to revisit.

“I’d appreciate it if you kept a distance,” you said, your voice trembling just enough to betray your nerves. “I’m marrying Suguru, you know.”

The words hung in the air, a barrier you hoped he wouldn’t cross. But Satoru, being Satoru, ignored it entirely. You felt his warmth behind you before you even realized he’d moved, his tall frame enveloping yours in an embrace that felt far too intimate. His hands rested lightly on your stomach, his touch burning through the fabric of your clothes. You stiffened as his breath fanned against your neck, raising goosebumps along your skin.

“Sharing is caring,” he hummed, his voice low and teasing, sending a shiver down your spine. “Suguru doesn’t mind. In fact…” His fingers tightened slightly, grounding you in place. “He likes it when we get along.”

Before you could respond, you felt the wet warmth of his tongue trace along your jaw. The sensation jolted through you, a yelp escaping your lips before you could stop it. Satoru’s laugh followed, soft and boyish, a stark contrast to the tension suffocating the room.

“You’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear. “But you don’t need to fight it. We both know you don’t really want me to stop.”

His words left you frozen, the weight of his overwhelming presence pressing down on you, suffocating yet intoxicating. Do you want him to stop? 

A fleeting memory surfaced as you stood there, frozen in Satoru’s embrace. It was from the early days of your relationship with Suguru when you’d first brought up Satoru’s antics. You’d been hesitant, unsure how to address the way his lingering touches or overly familiar words made you feel. Suguru had only smiled, his voice calm and reassuring as always.

Suguru’s calm voice had soothed you then, his words steady and reassuring. “He’s harmless,” he’d said, the faintest smile tugging at his lips as if amused by your concern. “He knows, at the end of the day, you’re mine. Plus, the guy is ridiculously lonely. You’re his friend. He’s just comfortable around you.”

The words had settled over you like a balm back then, quelling your unease. Suguru’s confidence, his sense of control, had made it easy to brush off the way Satoru’s presence lingered in your life—always just a little closer than necessary.

But now, as Satoru’s lips brushed against your ear, as his arms anchored you in place, that memory felt distant. Suguru’s reassurance no longer felt like a safety net; it felt like permission. Permission for Satoru to blur the lines, to push boundaries that had never been as firm as you thought.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” Satoru’s voice pulled you back to the present, his tone soft but knowing. His hands tightened slightly around your waist, a subtle reminder of his control of the situation. “It’s sweet, really. You always look so soft when you’re thinking about Suguru.”

You tried to pull away, but he only held you closer, his chuckle vibrating against your back. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m just keeping you warm. You’re the one who’s overthinking.”

Your heart pounded as you struggled to steady your breath. “This isn’t right, Satoru,” you managed, though your voice sounded weaker than you intended. “Suguru—”

“Suguru trusts me,” he interrupted, his voice smooth, almost teasing. “And you, too. That’s what makes this work, doesn’t it?” He shifted slightly, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispered, “He said it himself—you’re mine, too.”

You wanted to believe it was just another one of Satoru’s games, another way for him to twist the truth to suit his desires. But the memory of Suguru’s calm, reassuring voice lingered as if Suguru had already told you—subtly, indirectly—that Satoru had his permission.

though as of late it seemed like memories all seemed to blur together.

Your instincts screamed at you to leave. To get out of this room. To get away from him. From the person who used to be your friend, your lab partner. The one who would sit with you for hours in the library, pretending to study while sneaking glances at your coffee-stained notes. The guy who’d playfully nudged you into Suguru’s arms, making it all seem so easy. Was this all some kind of cruel fate?

“I have to pee,” you blurted out, the excuse too loud, too sudden, and too weak to be convincing.

Satoru didn’t seem to care. He eased back slightly, leaning casually against his desk, his ever-present smirk still in place. “Need me to walk you there?” he asked, his voice light, teasing—but his eyes betrayed him. That hungry look in his gaze lingered, stripping away any illusion of innocence.

“I’ll manage,” you replied, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to sound calm.

You didn’t miss the look in his eyes—hungry, possessive. Like he didn’t care that Suguru had touched you first. The thought of Suguru’s “seconds” didn’t bother him at all. As if plunging his cock into the leftovers of Suguru's cum would be a delicacy. If anything, it seemed to excite him, and the realization made bile rise up to the back of your throat. Burning. Searing. 

“Alright,” he said with a lovesick grin that might’ve been charming to anyone else. “I’ll have Suguru meet us here.”

For most girls, a man like Satoru was a dream—handsome, confident, untouchable. And he knew it. So did Suguru. Yet they both clung to you, always hovering just a little too close.

Satoru and Suguru had always clung to you, hadn’t they? From the beginning, you’d been their constant. Their focus. You wondered why that was—why they always had, and why they always would.

As soon as the lab door clicked shut behind you, the words hung heavy in your mind, echoing like a haunting refrain. It’s not assault if he didn’t do anything, right? That’s what you told yourself, over and over, as your breaths came in sharp, uneven bursts. You sprinted down the endless hallways, your heels clicking against the tile, your heart pounding in your chest. But no matter how fast you ran, the knot in your stomach refused to loosen, and nausea churned with every step.

You clutched at the memory of your friendship with Satoru, desperate for solace. He wasn’t always like this. He was your study partner, your confidant, the one who nudged you toward Suguru when you doubted yourself. But now? The person you once trusted felt like a stranger—no, worse, a threat.

Your head pounded, and the memories came.

At first, they were warm, and tender. Satoru laughed as he leaned over your desk, swiping your notes and teasing you about your messy handwriting before planting a kiss on your lips. Suguru sitting beside you on some date, drinking hot cocoa together while watching the rain. The three of you tangled together on a couch, their arms around you, holding you close as you drifted off to sleep in their warmth.

Suguru brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his eyes soft as he whispered, “You’re everything to me.” Satoru, his grin wide and mischievous, spinning you in circles during a rainstorm, both of you drenched and laughing.

The sweetness eventually curdled.

Satoru’s hand tightening around your throat, his blue eyes blazing with something unreadable. “You don’t get to leave me,” he murmured, his tone eerily calm as you clawed at his arms. Suguru holding a syringe, his voice soothing even as your body betrayed you, muscles seizing as the world faded to black.

You shook your head, gasping for air, but the images continued to assault you.

These memories can't belong to you.

Satoru pressing kisses to your temple as he whispered, “I’ll always protect you, sugar bear,” the warmth of his embrace lulling you into safety. Suguru kneeling in front of you, a ring in hand, his voice trembling as he said, “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember.”

The images were overwhelming, suffocating even, like a weight pressing down on your chest, stealing the air from your lungs. Your breaths came in ragged gasps as you sprinted down the endless halls, your heels clicking against the cold tile.

Occasionally, your legs faltered, forcing you to clutch at the nearest wall for support. Every step felt heavier, every breath harder to draw, as the haunting echoes of laughter and whispered promises mixed with screams and soft, deadly apologies. They chased you, just as real as the walls closing in around you.

Suguru standing over you, a gun in his hand, his dark eyes filled with something that looked almost like regret. “You always fight me on this” he whispered, and the shot rang out. Satoru’s voice, lilting and light, as he said, “Let’s see if you fly,” before pushing you off the rooftop, the sensation weightless and brief until impact.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head as if you could banish the images. This isn’t real. This can’t be real.

You stumbled into a random room, your fingers trembling as you punched in the passcode—your birthday, of course. The door clicked open with a mechanical hiss, and you collapsed inside, your knees hitting the cold, tiled floor. The sterile air burned your nose, the faint scent of chemicals making the knot in your stomach twist tighter.

The dim blue light cast eerie shadows across the walls, the occasional beep of nearby machines the only sound besides your ragged breathing. You squeezed your eyes shut, tears streaking down your face as you tried to push the memories away.

Were they real?

Could they be real?

The warmth of their love clashed with the cold edge of their possessiveness, leaving you adrift in a sea of conflicting emotions.

You wiped your eyes with trembling hands, blinking through the haze of tears. The room around you came into focus, and your breath hitched. Large test tubes lined the walls, filled with glowing blue and green liquids, their contents swirling lazily as if alive. The machines beeped rhythmically, lights flashing in a pattern you couldn’t decipher.

But the images were relentless. Suguru’s hands pinning you down, Satoru taking free use of your body, the weight of their combined presence crushing you until you could barely breathe.

Each memory was like some cruel nightmare, swinging wildly between moments too sweet to bear and others excruciatingly painful. The contrast made it all the worse, the warmth of one memory twisting into agony in the next, leaving you gasping for air as you stumbled forward. Broken sobs escaped your throat as you crumpled to the floor, grasping at the cold tiles, desperate for something—anything—real.

You wiped your eyes with trembling hands, blinking through the haze of tears. The room around you slowly came into focus, and your breath hitched. Large test tubes lined the walls, their glowing blue and green contents swirling lazily, almost hypnotically, as if alive. Machines beeped rhythmically in the background, their lights flashing in a pattern you couldn’t decipher.

You stared at the tubes, your mind racing. This wasn’t a random lab. It couldn’t be. The passcode, the eerie familiarity of the room—it all felt deliberate, intentional. Like you were meant to find this.

Your headache worsened, the pounding in your skull syncing eerily with the beeping machines. You pressed your palms to your temples, desperately trying to shut out the relentless wave of memories—real or imagined—that threatened to consume you.

But as you knelt there, shaking and breathless, one question clawed its way to the forefront of your mind, sharp and insistent, refusing to be silenced.

Why had they always clung to you?

And why did it feel like the answer was hidden somewhere in this room?

You had to be going crazy. That was the only explanation.

Shakily, you pushed yourself to your feet, the sterile air thick and heavy in your lungs. Sniffling, your fingers trailed along the cold, metallic surface of the tables as you moved closer to the strange test tubes. The faint hum of machinery filled the silence, the swirling contents inside the tubes illuminated by the dim, eerie glow of blue light.

Your breath hitched as you leaned in, squinting through the glass.

They weren’t just shapes or fragments. They weren’t abstractions of human life.

They were human.

They were you.

The realization hit like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from your lungs as you stumbled back. Your gaze darted to the screen beside the tubes, its sterile, blinking message driving the truth deeper into your chest.

"Processing."

The word repeated in steady intervals, cold and mechanical, mocking you with its efficiency.

This wasn’t a lab for curing diseases or advancing medicine. This wasn’t about saving lives.

They were cloning people.

They were cloning you.

Your knees threatened to give out again, but you gripped the edge of the table, your mind spinning wildly. Fragments of memories, half-formed and blurry, clawed their way to the surface, demanding to be seen. This had been your research once. Cloning. You’d cracked the formula—found the key.

You remembered the argument with Satoru, his icy blue eyes flashing with a rare seriousness. You’d told him it was unethical. That it wasn’t righteous. That you can’t just play god. You told him you couldn’t live with what you’d discovered. That’s why you stopped. That’s why you stopped talking to him. That’s why you left research behind.

But what happened after that?

How had they gotten here—this point, with a cult-like following and resources beyond comprehension? And more importantly—where had you been?

The questions tore at you, each one heavier than the last. Pieces of your memory felt missing, like someone had reached into your mind and carved out chunks, leaving you with only jagged fragments.

Had they done this to you?

Had he done this to you?

And then, the darkest question of all clawed its way to the surface:

How many times have they done this to you?

Your gaze snapped back to the endless row of tubes, bile rising in your throat as the enormity of it hit you. Backed-up versions of you floated in a dreamless stasis, stripped of identity, reduced to nothing but a tool for their ambitions.

The room spun, the walls closing in, as the truth pressed down on you—suffocating, undeniable.

You weren’t just a researcher who’d stumbled too close to the edge.

You were the edge.

And somehow, they’d dragged you right back into it.

The realization shattered whatever fragile control you had left. Sobs erupted from your throat, raw and unrelenting, as the pounding headache in your skull grew louder, sharper, threatening to split you in two. The sterile hum of the lab faded beneath the weight of your anguish, until—

Crack.

The sharp, deafening sound of a gunshot shattered everything.

You didn’t even have time to react.

The world went dark.

“Guess we’ll have to start all over again tomorrow,” Suguru’s voice hummed, smooth and almost tender, as though he were speaking to a wayward child. “Satoru will be disappointed, but it looks like this version of you wasn’t going as well anyway.”

His footsteps echoed in the eerie stillness, unhurried and deliberate, as he approached the bloodied mess you’d become.

He crouched down beside you, his dark eyes gleaming with an unsettling mix of pity and resolve. The gun fell from his hand with a hollow clatter, the sound reverberating through the cold room like an accusation.

“You should really stop with all your antics, sweet girl,” he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face with a tenderness that felt almost cruel. “It’s really heartbreaking to do this every time your brilliant mind starts to turn.”

Suguru’s hand lingered, disturbingly gentle as he smoothed your hair back, his touch so intimate it made your skin crawl—if you’d still had the strength to feel anything.

“You always fight so hard,” he said softly, almost like a lament. His gaze drifted over your still form, dark and unreadable. “But you know how this ends. You always know.”

He straightened slowly, letting his words settle in the suffocating silence.

“And yet, you never stop trying.”

Straightening, Suguru cast a glance at the tubes glowing faintly in the dim light behind him. His lips curled into a faint, almost tender smile, one that never quite reached his dark eyes. “Don’t worry,” he murmured softly, his tone as much for himself as it was for you. “We’ll put you back together again. Just like always.”

He knelt down, unhurried, his movements precise. His fingers brushed against your skin as he carefully slid the ring from your finger, the gesture deliberate, almost reverent. For a moment, he stared at the ring in his palm, his thumb tracing the smooth band. Something flickered in his gaze—regret, perhaps, or something far more calculated. He tucked the ring into his pocket with a quiet sigh.

A quick call to the “clean-up” crew followed. His voice was calm, clinical, as if he were ordering mundane office supplies rather than orchestrating the erasure of a life. The conversation ended with a sharp click, his phone slipping back into his jacket pocket.

Suguru cast another glance at the bloodied mess on the floor, his lips tugging into a sad, almost bittersweet smile.

“I love you,” he whispered, his tone heartbreakingly sincere, as though the words could absolve the horror of what had just transpired. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He turned, his fingers playing with the ring in his pocket, twirling it absentmindedly as if it were a trinket rather than a symbol of promises now rendered hollow. The door hissed shut behind him, the sterile room sealing itself in silence.

The hum of the machines was the only sound that remained, indifferent to the gruesome tableau they overlooked.

[pars-ley]

I...do? (part three)

Pairing: Taehyung x female reader ft ex boyfriend Seokjin Summary: Waiting for Taehyung to return from the fishing trip with your dad was almost unbearable. Will your father approve of your fiancé, or will Mr Kim end up revealing his true colours? Running into your ex in town, however, was worse than anything you were worrying about. Genre: Enemies to lovers au / CEO au / fake dating au / colleagues to lovers au / co-workers to lovers / series / angst / fluff / smut Rating: 18+ (future chapters will be NSFW) Warnings (per chapter) : conversations about sex / talking about orgasms / mentions of male appendage size / talk of emotional abusive ex / insults from an ex / slight physical assault (between two male characters) / discussions about loss of virginity /  W/C: 3.9k Banner: @shadowkoo <3 Beta: @cherrysoulth i appreciate you. A/N: Here’s part three, thank you all for the Iikes, the comments and reblogs, I love how into this story people are! And thank you for being patient with me while I completed this chapter. Taglist: @taebae19 @ladyartemesia @taestannie @somewhereofftheglobe @m-1234 @siadreams @moonchild1 @taebangtanbabe @leedoesntknaur @11thenightwemet11 @chickenscoups @stellamalonesolaria @taiwan0618

The next morning, sitting in the kitchen, you and your mother idly chatter away, with your boss mostly focused on reading through emails on his laptop at the breakfast bar, until your dad finally comes down, leaving a descending silence in his wake. You scoop up your yogurt and granola, staring into your bowl, and feeling like a scalded teenager.

"Taehyung, do you fish?" your dad's gravelly voice shatters the quiet and has you all frozen, awaiting a response. 

"Fish? As in with a fishing rod?" he replies bewildered, spoonful of cereal in mid-air.

"That's usually how it works, yes. Unless you'd prefer to try catching them with your hands?" your dad replies as he pours his coffee and eats his toast straight-faced staring out of the back door into the garden.

"I've never tried any form of fishing, to be honest."

"Well, today's your lucky day, you're coming out on the boat with me."

You watch as Mr. Kim's eyes widen and for the first time since you've met him, you see genuine fear. "I'm not sure fishing is my thing, I-"

"You're about to become part of this family, son, I'm not making a request. You're coming out on the boat with me and learning how to fish. It's a tradition that goes back generations, that my dad did with me and his dad before that." your father's tone is so blunt and harsh, you can see that not even your back chatting boss would  argue. "Be ready to leave in ten."

Your father exits the room quickly, taking the awkward air with him and lifting the cloud of heavy silence.

"I've never been part of a tradition before." your boss' wistful voice sounds quietly into the stillness, as you take in his strange expression, a hint of sadness revealing itself in unguarded eyes, only momentarily before they harden back to unreadable.

"Don't worry," your mum interjects. "he's a big softie really."

"Who knows, maybe he won't bring you back." you tease, sounding hopeful and making him shift slightly in his seat.

"I’m sure you’ll win him over and you won't have to worry about anything," your mum interjects, playfully slapping you on the arm. “Besides, while the boys are out, you and me are having afternoon tea in town.”

“Yes ma’am.” playfully you salute her and finish your breakfast.

Sure enough, Mr. Kim is ready and downstairs in exactly 10 minutes, a sombre and concerned frown creasing his brow.

“Can you fish?” he asks, with a childlike curiosity that you find oddly endearing.

“My dad had two daughters and a tradition to uphold, what do you think?” smirking at him, you attempt to offer him some parting wisdom, "Listen," you whisper, "my dad is like a human lie detector, he sees through people much quicker than anyone I've ever met. Try to be as honest as you can…without completely being yourself."

He turns to you and you see a flash of annoyance flit across his eyes. "Am I that awful?"

You stare at him, perplexed as to what kind of pep talk he thought he was going to get. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

He grunts, "forget it." before storming out the front door and climbing into your dad's truck.

Staring off after them, hoping they come back a little more positive than they've left, but if Mr. Kim fell off the boat and was never found, it also would not be the worst thing that could happen.

******

"So, tell me how it happened? You and…Mr Kim." Your mother hesitates, unsure whether to stand on ceremony because he's your boss or to be casual because he's your fiancé. Even thinking those words seem absurd, you yourself can't even get past calling him anything other than Mr Kim. 

She eyes you over her teacup, as she blows the molten liquid inside. Steam billowing out around her face, making her look like a mafia boss waiting for your next wrong answer. Was she suspicious? You couldn't help the nerves bubbling away inside you while you prepared to lie to her. 

"As far as I was concerned, you hated this man." She says, matter-of-factly.

"I still do…at times. He infuriates me beyond belief, I hate his opinions on things, the way he talks to people, everything has to be his way and-"

"What do you actually like about him?" She cuts you off, forcing you to take a breath. While wanting to be as honest as possible, this question is going to be the hardest to answer.

"Well, I like his don't-give-a-fuck attitude."

Your mother cringes at your use of language but the corners of her mouth pull up slightly, a giveaway that she's secretly missed it.

"He doesn't care what anyone thinks about him and I admire that." pausing to think, your mind racing a mile a minute, grasping at straws. "He's very ambitious and focused, which is how he's come so far in his career."

You struggle to think of anything else without lying, so you say the most clichéd answer that comes to mind. "Besides, there is a different side to him that he doesn't show anybody. A gentle, softer side, that he hides underneath that mask." 

You're convinced that while that might be true for most people, you doubt very much it's true in this case. Some people are just entitled arseholes and your boss is very much one of them.

"And I suppose that him being heartbreakingly handsome helps?" your mother smirks at you from behind her cup.

"There are worse faces to look at." you reply, leaning back on your chair, stomach full of sandwiches and cakes.

You hate it, but your mother is right. He is devastatingly good looking. He has the type of face that should be on a billboard somewhere, outlined in neon lights and illuminated for all to see. But an ugly personality changes the way you look, even for the most attractive face.

"And what about…" your mother raises her eyebrows hoping you'll get the hint of what she's referring to…you do.

"Ma!"

"What?" she feigns, batting her eyelashes innocently. "It's important to be married to a man who knows how to satisfy you."

Laying your head on your folded arms on the table, you let out an amused sigh.

"While sex is not the main part of a marriage, it is a big part. A healthy sex life helps keep your marriage interesting, not to mention helps with communication and your overall bond." 

Groaning, you're still unable to lift your head to look at her.

"I'm just making sure that the man you're going to spend the rest of your life with, will make you happy in every sense. There's far too many egotistical men thinking they have all the power, for you to be faking your orgasms for their benefit. I mean, I thank god every day for your father, now he definitely keeps marriage interes-"

"Ma!" you finally meet her eyes. "I do not need to hear anything about you and dad!" you grimace, shaking the image from your mind, "and I can assure you, there is no need for faking orgasms."

She nods, seeming satisfied with your answer and goes back to sipping her drink. 

Mr. Kim is probably far too selfish to be good in bed. Most definitely. But now your mother has planted the seed, you were finding it hard not to think about it. Your mind wonders what his physique looks like underneath those fitted suits he wears. You want to think it'll be nothing special, but you can tell just by the way his shirt sits against him, that you would only be lying to yourself. 

The image of what he's like in bed is one you can't seem to shake. Is he a giver or receiver? Does he like to be dominant or submissive? Or even, is he gentle or rough…let's face it, nothing about this man seems gentle. You wonder for a brief moment what his lips would feel like against yours, when your mother interrupts, “look who's back,” she nods to the window, seeing your father's truck pulling up outside the local fishmongers.

Will they both have come back unharmed? Will Mr Kim have tried to mind his manners and keep his rude remarks to himself? God, you hoped so.

Glancing over at your mum; you see her amusement twinkle in her eyes, “I'm sure it will be fine, let's go and find out.”

Grabbing your bag, you head straight for the door, nerves twisting your stomach and making you regret eating so much at lunch.

The sound of talking and laughter comes from within the shop. Your dad must be sharing stories with the local fishmongers, something that must be making Mr Kim feel very awkward and you can't help the slight smile that plays at the corner of your mouth at the thought.

"Hello boys," your mum says, taking the lead into the store, “how was your trip?”

The sight that greets you makes you pause, frozen in the doorway. Your dad; smiling with an arm around Mr Kim’s shoulders. What universe have you stumbled into? How could this be possible?

Your father winks at you. Seeming much more himself as he comes over and beams when he lays eyes on your mother, closing the distance quickly to cuddle her and kiss her cheek.

Turning back to you, he pulls you under his arm, "your boy done good. He's a natural."

Your head snaps over as your mouth gapes open, shocked at your dad's sudden change of heart. Not to mention, Mr Kim’s eyes wide with an excited gleam. He looks like a different person, relaxed and…happy, for once he's actually smiling. Something you've never seen in the three years you've known him. For a moment, you're struck at just how gorgeous his boxy grin is. Breath frozen in your lungs, as you blink furiously in an attempt to rid yourself of the spell that's been placed upon you.

"You caught a fish?" you ask, in utter disbelief.

"Several actually." he looks down at you with a smug grin.

Your eyes go straight to your father, frowning, you feel utterly betrayed by him. You assumed he'd never buy into your boss' charade and hate him as much as you do. If you were being honest, a small part of you really hoped Mr Kim would fail and that your dad wouldn't approve of the wedding. No more lies and yet…here you are.

"What's that face for, Princess?" your dad asks, as he squeezes your shoulder, comfortingly, "worried I wouldn't bring him back?" Smirking down at you, you watch his face carefully until he meets your questioning gaze with serious eyes. "He's ok." 

There it is. Confirmation of your dad's seal of approval. Any words you had are swallowed whole by shock but still desperately trying to escape, judging by the taste of disdain that is repeating on you, burning its way up your throat.

How could he have fooled your father? 

There wasn't a time you recall your dad ever being wrong about someone and today was a first. The first of him being duped and believing a lie, to make matters worse, it’s a lie that you're partly orchestrating. 

But for some strange reason, watching Mr Kim's face light up as he shows your mother and the fishmonger his catches, pushes away your guilt and replaces it with both; bewilderment and fascination. How can something as simple as fishing inspire this response from your boss? 

Whilst you and your mother wait, Mr Kim and your dad sell their catches to the fishmonger. “See, didn't I say everything would be fine?” she almost gloats, making you roll your eyes in response.

When they're done, your mother and father head off to the grocery store to get some food for dinner. Your mother convinces you to show Mr Kim around the town. His good mood clearly extended beyond fishing as he agrees, much to your surprise.

“All things considered,” Mr Kim starts, “it's small, this place, but it does have some endearing qualities.”

Frowning over at him, you can't help the response that leaves your mouth. “Ok, who are you and what have you done with Mr. Kim?” 

His face falls, and his cheeks taint with a pink blush that makes you instantly regret your words, not wanting the good mood of his to disappear.

“I'm kidding!” you nudge him playfully on his side, “besides you're actually quite handsome when you smile.”

His head snaps up at you then, his lips tugging up at the corners but his eyes are unreadable, something in them you couldn't quite put your finger on, but it made your stomach flip just the same.

"In all seriousness, how did you do it?" you ask into the silence, acutely aware of the touch of his arm on yours, as you walk side by side down the row of shops.

“Do what?”

“Get my dad to like you.”

Hearing a slight huff from him before his face falls again, “I tried to do what you said.”

Why on earth would he ever listen to you, that would definitely be a first?

“You tried not to be yourself?” you reply sarcastically, trying to lighten the mood again.

“Yeah.”

Hearing the sadness in his tone, you immediately chastise yourself. The silence fills the air, thick and heavy like a quilt of loneliness, enveloping the two of you. Attempting to think of a million things to say to ease the tension, you don't really trust yourself to speak anymore, until you hear him mumble, "I haven't always been like this."

Looking over at him, your gaze meets puppy dog eyes and for once, you're at a loss for words. Your big, bad boss suddenly doesn't seem so scary anymore. But just as you take a breath to ask him about his statement, his attention is drawn into the shop behind you.

“I need to grab a new deodorant, I'll just be a minute.” And he rushes in, not meeting your eyes again. You wander over to the next shop, a bakery, glancing at the pastries in the window. The thought of apple pie for dessert crosses your mind, when a familiar voice halts you and glues your feet to the floor, “Y/n?”

Suddenly, your stomach feels full of rocks, weighing you down and making acid rise up into your throat. Forcing yourself to face him, you turn to see none other than your ex-boyfriend. Kim Seokjin.

“I thought that was you.” He continues, eyes roaming over you, in a way that makes your skin crawl, “You look amazing.”

Snapping your jaw shut, in hopes of not embarrassing yourself by starting a fight in the middle of this tiny town and airing your past dirty laundry. 

“What are you doing back in town?” he adds, smiling arrogantly, “we should have coffee and catch up like old times, I–”

“Sorry to have kept you waiting, my love.” Mr Kim’s voice next to you soothes you instantly and makes you feel calmer, as does the arm he winds possessively around your waist. “Are you ready to go?” he asks, placing a gentle kiss on your temple. You can't help but stiffen slightly at the action but something about the way his lips feel against your skin, wants you to close your eyes and lean into it.

“Hi there,” Seokjin interrupts awkwardly. “I’m Jin, I'm y/n’s ex, I'm sure she's mentioned me.” The cockiness in his tone makes you want to puke, and wonder what you ever saw in him. He holds his hand out for Taehyung to shake, to which he pointedly ignores, much to your amusement.

“Taehyung, y/n’s fiancé.” he subtly exaggerates, “and no, she hasn't mentioned you before.” He looks down at you, “was Joon here, one of your more serious boyfriends you told me about?”

Catching on to what he's doing, and knowing Seokjin will hate every moment, you dive right in with the ruse. “Not at all.” you respond, laughing and placing a hand on Taehyung's chest.

Seokjin’s jaw clenches. “It's Jin.” 

Biting the inside of your cheeks to hold your smile at bay and unable to help the way your chest swells with pride in making him feel uncomfortable. Paybacks one hell of a bitch.

“Sorry Jae, I guess you weren't memorable enough to make the roster.”

Seokjin laughs darkly then, turning your stomach, knowing the real him is about to make himself known.

“I think you'll find, y/n won't ever be able to forget me. You see, I, was her first. I'm ingrained in her mind, whether she likes it or not.”

You tense at Taehyung's side but he only squeezes you reassuringly and pulls you closer to him. Fury rises up inside you, as your hands ball into fists. The overwhelming need to punch him in the face threatening to take over. 

You're transported back to a time of a sweet, handsome Seokjin flirting and charming his way into your life. He pursued you for eight months before you fell for him and gave yourself to him. Losing your virginity and regretting it instantly. 

The very next morning he turned cold and distant, calling you awful names, making you feel embarrassed and ugly. From that point on you hated yourself and it had been a long road to recover from your insecurities after that. Especially, when you found out he'd only been interested in you as part of a bet with his friends. Taking your virginity, that was the wager and the odds were unfortunately in his favour.

The very next day the entire town knew, with Seokjin spreading many lies about you to your peers from college, much to your dismay and heartbreak. You would never forgive him for what he did, or how he made you feel, but seeing him again, showed you how far you'd come since then.

“And yet, a much more important and impressionable first, is the first time someone makes you come, am I right?” Taehyung's voice is lower and sounding darker than usual, “And I think we both know that it's definitely not you who holds that title.”

Your mouth almost pops open in shock. How would Taehyung even know that information? The only person who knows it is you.

Seokjin's face reddens, his eyes emblazoned with anger, looking like he will explode right in front of you. “Yeah, well, she was awful anyway, had to think about somebody else just to make it through.” he takes a slight step towards you. “Y/n wasn't pretty back then, a little chubby and frumpy. I only dated her out of pity.”

The fury inside rose up and out of your mouth before you could stop it, “funny that, as I remember you whimpering my name as you came, after all of about thirty seconds. I barely had a chance to feel anything. Well,” you glance down at his crotch, “not that there's much to feel there.”

Seokjin's whole face turns a dark shade of pink. “You're still the same little slut, you've always been.” he spits. The words barely have time to get past his lips before Taehyung had his hand around his face in a death grip. Shoving him against the store window.

“If I hear y/n’s name leave your mouth again,” Taehyung's voice sounds deadly, “I will rip these swollen lips off and shove them down your throat. Do you understand?”

Seokjin looks at you alarmed and you have to cut your eyes away to try and quell the anger burning inside you. That's when you notice your parents watching, your mother taking a tentative step towards the scene and your dad, smiling with his arms crossed. 

“Don't look at y/n!” Taehyung spits, it's the first time he’s sounded out of control, “don't you ever look at her again, you worthless piece of shit. Now, are. we. clear?” 

Seokjin nods, panicked.

“Apologise to y/n and you'll be on your way.” Taehyung releases his face with a thrust, almost tripping him up.

“S-sorry y/n. I'm sorry.” he walks away quickly; head down and avoids everyone's gaze. Until he disappears quickly around the corner.

The adrenaline still pumps ferociously through your body but the thrill you feel overwhelms you. Elation bubbles up inside you as you spin to Taehyung, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him to you. Squealing with excitement, you tighten your hold on him. His body stiffens for a brief moment before he's suddenly lifting you off the ground, laughing at your reaction. You have never heard him laugh before and the sound is intoxicating. Leaning back slightly to watch him, noses almost touching as you're face to face. His expression turns serious, eyes suddenly intense. Overwhelmed with so many emotions, you have no idea which one to follow first but the way your stomach flutters with growing butterflies does not escape your attention. 

“Your parents are watching…” he says, as he slowly lowers you back to the ground.

You'd forgotten about them, but inspiration strikes. Removing your arms from around him but keep your body close to his. “You should kiss me, then.”

He raises a questioning eyebrow.

“It will make our relationship more believable.” you add, stating facts but if you are completely honest with yourself, it has nothing to do with keeping up a ruse. You just really want to know what his lips feel like against yours.

“Are you sure?” he whispers, eyes focused on your mouth and already leaning in. All you can do is nod, as you wait eagerly with anticipation.

His hands on your back, encasing you and pulling you closer, as he limits the distance between you. When his mouth touches yours, you momentarily forget how to breathe, as his warm, soft lips enchant you. He moves them slowly against yours and a surprising hunger blossoms inside, snapping you out of your trance, leading you to eagerly return the dance. Your hands stay firmly against the hard planes of his chest, fingertips pressing desperately against his skin. The gentle kiss deepens and there's an urgency from him that you didn't expect. But before you're ready, he pulls away, breathing fast, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Sorry.” He says, quietly and when you pull away you notice the dusting of pink across his cheeks. 

“What are you sorry for?”

He shrugs, stepping slightly away from you, “for getting carried away.”

“Don't apologise, I'm not sorry.” you can't help the flirtatious lilt in your voice. His lips turn up into a sideways smirk so sexy you have to force yourself to look away. This afternoon has made you feel dizzy with exhilaration and confusion is muddling your brain.

“I guess I should explain.” you say, feeling embarrassed about sharing the story of Jin.

“No pressure, whenever you're ready.” he says simply, with an understanding that surprises you. “But I think I get it.”

You nod, mulling that over, you would tell him more but not right now, in the middle of this town and under prying eyes. You'd both caused enough of a spectacle.

“Alright, let's go macho man.”

He laughs as he falls in step beside you. “You know, they had no brand names I recognised in that shop.”

“That's because it's an organic shop, Taehyung, the owner makes everything herself.”

His face drops, mouth popping open in shock. “Organic deodorant, no wonder it smells like the woods.”

Giggling, you head back home with your parents, ready to eat dinner and feeling the most comfortable since you arrived.

[iadoreneteyam]

Hi! I was wondering if I could request a miles 42 x reader where’s she has really bad eyesight and she misplaced her glasses after staying over at his place so she bumps absolutely every surface in the house so he’s just dying laughing and then helps her up and hands her the glasses, which were always in his possession.

Muy agradecida y gracias 💝

title: so not cool dude

character: earth 42 miles morales

type: pure fluff

request or not: request

status: unedited

a/n: I really hope you don’t mind that these aren’t in my usual writing form. If you do let me know so I can condense it down to that. Hope you enjoy!

“Wake up, mami” Miles kissed your cheek as you were released from your slumber. You smiled at him and he grabbed your face to guide you to his lips before you reach over him to the bed side table. Your smiled dropped as you felt around the general vicinity of where your glasses were meant to be. They were gone.

“Miles, I lost my glasses.” You told your boyfriend and looked at him seriously. Miles knew about your eyesight, of course he did he’s your boyfriend, but he didn’t always take it as serious as you did. “We’ll find ‘em in the minute, ight mami” Miles brushed off your concern and continued to attack your neck with kisses.

“This is serious. I legit can’t see without them.” You explained to Miles before pinching his sides with your nails to get him off of you. Miles sucked in his breath quickly and grabbed your hand. “Ow! Didn’t think you were into all that, mami, but I’m into whatever.” Miles stuck your hand in his mouth and bit your finger.

“Shut the fuck up and find my glasses!” You pushed Miles out of the bed and then shooed him off as a sign to hurry. “Uh-uh, mami. You want me to find your glasses alone?” Miles gave you a questioning look before getting down on his knees to search under the bed.

“Well, that’s not gonna cut it!” What you could make out of Miles grin is contagious but your smile quickly dropped when you felt Miles pull you out of the bed. “How am I gonna find my glasses and I can’t see? Please, baby just find them for me.” You were glad Miles started it off and held your hand so you could run your hands up his arm to eventually grab his face and place a kiss of his lips.

Once the kiss was done Miles pressed his forehead against yours and whispered to you “how ‘bout you help your sweet, caring and handsome boyfriend and stop being so dramatic.” Miles laugh boomed as you pushed him away and told him “I fucking hate you!”

Miles put his hand over his heart a pouted. “You wound me, hot stuff.” Miles abruptly sat on the floor which pulled you down with him. “Help me look under the bed, mami.” Miles’s entire body was practically under the bed, and to be honest, it was a funny sight from what you could make out of your blurred vision.

Your poorly stifled laughs is what caused him to pull his body out and ask “You laughing at me?” Miles narrowed his eyes at you but you could tell his tone was playful. A full smile broke out on your face before Miles stood up and looked down at you while you were still on the ground.

“I guess you can see pretty well then, huh?” Miles dramatically stomped over you and left the room. You tried your best to follow him out but the door frame got in your way. The minute Miles heard your head hit the wall he was back on the ground with you, not because he was trying to help you back up but because he was laughing at you.

Miles had his right arm holding his stomach and his left arm trying it’s best to make it’s way to your shoulder. Everything happened so fast Miles was absolutely wheezing claiming that he “gots to see you do that dumb shit again”

Miles quickly ran out the room into the living area with you trying your best to follow after him where it was evident that his mom made breakfast for you both before she left for work by the smell. Miles made his way to the kitchen where he jumped over some water his mother must have unknowingly wasted. He had seen the water but you hadn’t. As expected you were swiftly taken to ground by the water and Miles watched you go down.

“You okay, mami?” Miles tone was clearly genuine but his laughter made you second guess. You missed his hand when he reached it out to you which made him laugh more. “Shut up.” Miles quickly shut up and helped you off the floor. “Yes, ma’am” You decided to hold on to Miles extra tight so he couldn’t run away again. (which he wasn’t exactly complaining about)

Your faces were close and your tone was soft “Can you help me find my glasses, Miles? pretty please.” Miles placed a kiss on your lips once you finished. “Yeah” You were so focused on his eyes that you failed to notice him reaching in the back pocket of his shorts and pulling out your glasses. You let out a soft gasp when he waved them in front of your face.

Miles put them on for you and leaned in for another kiss. “No. You don’t deserve it.” You pushed Miles off of you before running back to his room and closing the door behind you. Miles rattled his door handle and spoke “C’mon you gotta admit it was funny.”

“These are way to expensive for you to be playing around like that.” Though he couldn’t see you he could practically feel you rolling your eyes at him. “I didn’t realize I was dating Velma, okay.” You heard Miles laugh from before the door.

“You are so not helping your case!”

[lunajay33]

Taste for Older Men Part.2

•⚰️🍂🍑•

Summary: Growing up with you never had much interest in boys your age but when your dads best friends stuck around more everything changed

Pairing: Cowboy Negan x f!reader

Warnings: age gap, evil boyfriend

Part.1

•Masterlist•

It’s been a week since everything happened, my parents have been extremely over supportive always, when I’d come down for breakfast they’d have wide smiles and cheery voices but I couldn’t hate them for it they’re just trying to make me feel better even though I was already happier than I’ve ever been in my life

I still work everyday at Negans farm but my parents still don’t know that we’re together and we’re not quite sure how to tell them, I mean he’s my dads best friend and I don’t want to ruin that but I also can’t give up Negan he’s all I’ve ever wanted so there’s got to be a way

I was in the barn pitch forking up some loose hay when I feel Negans arms wrap around my waist

“You know if I was gonna get more help around here I’d have told you my feelings way earlier” I laugh as I lean back into his chest

“Watch yourself lil lady I’m still your boss remember”

“Oh I remember” he spins me in his arms resting my hands on his shoulders

“So how do we tell my parents I don’t want to sneak around I want to be able to be with you when we’re around other people”

“I know sunshine, old man invited me over tonight to watch football might tell him then, and you can talk to your mother” I feel nervous about this but it needs to be done

“Hopefully they don’t rip my head off”

“If they’re going that route it’ll be me they rip apart” me smiles as he leans down to kiss me his grey speckled beard scratching against my face but it was something I craved when he wasn’t around

“Come on let’s finish up our chores before you get carried away like last time” I laugh as he groans

I got home early as Negan let me off to get ready for tonight and go through everything I want to say to my mom, he wanted that time too he had more to worry about but my father is an understanding man I just home he can understand this too

I stripped off my dirty work clothes and hoped in the shower, relaxing as the dirt and sweat from the day washed away down the drain, after I was all squeaky clean I got dressed in a casual pair of black leggings and a red long sleeve shirt, putting two braids in my hair then waiting on my bed anxiously

After another hour I picked up my phone and dialed Negan, after two rings I hear his voice and everything seemed to not be as stressful

“Hey baby ya alright?”

“Yeah I’m better now, just nervous”

“Don’t stress honey I’m on my way over now, we’ll get this settled” he said with a calming tone

“Okay I’ll see you soon”

We hung up and I made my way downstairs sitting at the kitchen island waiting to hear the rumble of his truck, soon the headlights shine through the window and he’s knocking at the door

I want to rush to the door and through my arms around him but contain myself and let my dad answer, Negans technically his guest anyways

“Negan! You excited for the game buddy?” My dad asked cheerfully as he patted him on the shoulder

“You bet, I meet you in the lounge soon I’ll go say hi to your wife and y/n!”

“Always with the southern hospitality!”

Negan rounded the corner and came into the kitchen where me and my mother sat I couldn’t help the huge smile that stretched my cheeks

“Negan so wonderful to see you again, last time was a bit crazy” I looked down a little embarrassed by that whole fiasco

“Lovely to see you too, and of course my dear little farm hand” he said brushing his hand down my back out of my mothers gaze making my skin chill

“Oh Negan she’s still behaving well isn’t she?”

“Mother of course I am”

“Don’t worry she’s always a great help, got myself a lil working lady”

I look up at him with so much joy and admiration before my mother clear her throat and snaps us out of our moment

“Well here’s two beers, better get in there before he makes a big deal about us stealing you away again” she laughed handing over the beers and began left the room

I look back at my mother who had a knowing look on her face, raised eyebrow with a slight smirk

“What?”

“I’m not stupid sweetie, I’ve seen the way you looked at him since he started coming around, only recently he’s been giving you the same look soooooo you have something to tell me dear”

“Don’t be mad, what I feel for him is real, how he treats me really show how badly Mike treated me and how much Negan treats me like a goddess, he’s a good man”

“I’m not mad, I’m glad you found a man who can treat you the way you deserve, hopefully your father will look at it the same way”

I down now we wait to either hear a fight or Negan comes out smiling

“WHAT?” I hear from the lounge, oh no

I rush into the lounge seeing my dad up in Negans face and he looked more betrayed than angry

“Dad, calm down it’s okay”

“How is this okay my best friend with my daughter”

“I love her f/n” he went silent and so did I this was the first time Negans declared his love

“You love me?” I ask as I step closer

“Of course I do, you’re a wonderful woman every moment with you I feel more happier and at ease than I’ve ever been”

“I love you too Negan” I lean up to wrap my arms around his neck and he held me tight

“F/n, you know Negan and he’ll treat her right compared to that excuse for a boyfriend she had before” my mom said then hearing my dad sigh

“I know it’s just a lot to wrap my head around, when did this happen?”

“The day we had the barbecue, he came and made me feel better about everything that happened and well our feelings just came out”

“I mean me and your mother knew how you felt about Negan it was pretty obvious, I guess I can eventually get use to this”

“My god was it that obvious?” I ask looking up at Negan and he had a sly smirk

“You didn’t make it sneaky when you’d look at me darlin”

Taglist: @azanoni @scorpioempress @fanficwriter5 @elliesr1fle @imimatcha4life @indigosparkle444

[asterias-record-shop]

i need to see ethan meeting readers mom🙈 like imagine her visiting reader in new york without even knowing about ethan so when she gets there its like unexpected and hes all flustered and nervous!!🤭 AHH he's so cute💘

—𓆩[pancakes]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪

AH YES HES SO CUTE OMG I CAN SEE IT NOW!! Also, this was meant to be so much longer but tumblr deleted it while I was making the banner so I’m so sorry 🧍🏽‍♀️ good boy is used in a non-sexual sense but like in a sexual sense y’know-

Ethan was trying to be nice, he was. He picked up some cooking classes and wanted to make you some breakfast, and after a particularly fun night, he was able to.

He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, smiling as you squirmed softly before slipping on some shorts before stepping out. The floor was cold making him hiss softly, but when he stepped into the kitchen, he screams loudly.

A woman who resembled you stood in the kitchen flipping pancakes, dropping the spatula as Ethan covers his chest. “Who are you?!”

“Who am I? Who are you?!”

“I’m Ethan!”

“Who’s Ethan?!”

“I’m Ethan!”

“Ethan? What’s going on?!” You yelled as you ran out, gasping. “Mom!”

“Mom?!” Ethan was shocked, quickly covering his chest. “H-Hi Ms. L/N.”

Your mom paused, gasping. “Oh! Oh, Ethan!”

You giggle. “Mom, this is Ethan Landry, my boyfriend,” it was weird, you introducing him to your mother after he railed you last night and you wore his shirt that went down to mid thigh. “E, this is my mom.”

“Hi- Hello. Hello, Ms. L/N.”

She laughs. “Hi Ethan. You can call me by my first name, you don’t have to be so formal. Y/N, honey, want to go get changed? I’ll have breakfast done in a bit.”

You nod, smiling at her before turning and pressing a soft kiss to Ethan’s lips. “Be good?”

He nods obediently. “Y-Yes. Yeah, I will. Promise.”

You giggled. “Good boy.”

Your words make him shiver as you pressed another kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

“I-I love you, I love you too.”

You giggle again, walking off as your mom laughs. “Ethan, will you come help me put the eggs and bacon on the plates?”

He nods quickly, running over and opening the cupboard. “Th-Thank you for cooking, ma’am. I was coming to make breakfast, but-”

“I beat you to it!” She laughs. “Do you like chocolate chip pancakes? Y/N loves chocolate chip pancakes.”

He nods. “I-I do.”

She claps her hands. “Perfect!” She goes around him, gasping.

Fucking hell, of course she saw.

“Ethan, honey, you might want to put a shirt on. And some ointment.”

Taglist: 𓆩[@lem0ns77]𓆪   𓆩[@cecepop15]𓆪   𓆩[@memeorydotcom]𓆪   𓆩[@your-favorite-god]𓆪

© asterias-record-shop

[rafedaddy01]

Step Bro, What are you doing?

series masterlist

Summary: you move across the country and fall for your step brother who teaches you so many new ways to feel good.

You’ve been dating your boyfriend for a year and things were getting pretty serious, until your mom broke the news that you’d have to be moving across the country to live with your new step dad.

You and your boyfriend both agreed you’d try the long distance thing. It was good for a while until something else peaked your interest, or someone else..

“Good morning mother” you say agitated as you take a seat at the breakfast table. “Y/n..” she says in a warning tone.

“How did you sleep sweetheart?” Ward, your new step dad asks. “Fine” hi grumble.

You in fact did not sleep fine.

You and your long distance boyfriend had an argument and let’s just say it did not end well, nasty words were said.

“Okay” you mother drags out as she stuffs a fork full of eggs in her mouth.

“Your step father and I are going on a little weekend trip, we won’t be back until next week. You two behave yourselfs” she points a finger at you and then Rafe, your step brother, so just walked into the kitchen.

“Hey don’t look at me, I’m always on my best behavior” he places his hands up in defense and winks at you.

You roll your eyes and dig into your breakfast.

**

It’s finally the weekend and since your parents are out of town and Sarah and wheezie are each sleeping at a friends house you decide to ‘relieve some tension’.

Rafe won’t be home till later, you overhead him talking to topper and kelce about preparing for some ‘epic party’. Their words, not yours.

You make sure nobody’s home and skip up to your bedroom and shut the door.

You reach into one of your boxes that you haven’t unpacked yet and pull out your old friend, you squeal with excitement as you start peeling cloths off and sprawling yourself out on the bed.

An idea sparks in your head.

You and your boyfriends have been on the outs, maybe if you film him a little hole video for him it’ll fix’s his insecurities.

You prop the phone up on a pillow so he has a good view of your glistening pussy.

You slowly start spreading your legs and smile at the camera as you tweak your nipples and moan.

Your fingers dip in your heat and rub your clot until your back arches.

You reach for your hot pink vibrator and spit on the top before deep throating it.

You and your boyfriend have never actually had sex, you were still a virgin, but you have fooled around a couple times.

You brought the device down to your slit and turned it on, arching your back on impact.

“Oh fuck!” You groan and you slowly push it in and start pumping. “Oh my god” you moan as your free hand comes down to your clit.

“Mmh, right there baby. Don’t stop!” Your panting and you shut your eyes and arch your back, squirting onto your phone.

You turn the device off and start reaching for your phone when you hear someone clapping.

A rock forms in your stomach as you slowly turn towards your door

“Nice show” Rafe smirks at you and strides closer.

You quickly grab the duvet to cover your nakedness, “what the hell rafe! Get out” you shout.

He smirks one more time before turning around “if you ever need a helping hand, or cock, let me know” and with that he leaves.

**

It’s been a few days since the incident with Rafe and you’ve been avoiding him at all costs.

The two have been home all day but hanging out in spectate rooms.

You decide to watch a movie on your laptop and end up falling asleep.

When you wake up you search for your phone but it’s nowhere to be found.

You go out into the hallways and head towards Rafes room, “hey Rafe, can you call my phone I lost it-“ your stopped in your tracks by the sound of moaning, your moaning”

“What the fuck” you push open Rafes door to find him clutching your phone in one hand while the other strokes his cock.

Your eyes widen, but your intrigued.

You stand there watching him and your eyes connect, there’s no shame in his so you think why should there be in yours.

You close his door and lock it, in case Sarah or wheezie decide to come home.

You start walking towards him and he stops stroking himself. “About time” he tosses your phone, but not before turning on your camera.

“Shut up” you straddle him and trap his cock between the two of you

You grasp his neck and push your lips against his.

“This is so wrong” you mutter against his lips before he slips his tongue in your mouth. “That’s what makes it hot” he bites your lip before pulling away.

You two stare at each other for a while before you stand and start stripping.

“You enjoy my little home video, I see” you cock and eyebrow at him.

“I did” he nods as you continue undressing.

“It was for my boyfriend” you say with a smirk as you reach out to pull his shirt off.

Rafes jaw clenches but quickly relaxes as your naked pussy connects with his bare thigh.

“I’ve never..”

“I’ll teach you” he grins as he sinks you down onto his cock.

Your lips part in ecstasy as he slowly guides you up and down his shaft.

“Oh. My. God!” You moan as the pain turns into pleasure and Rafe starts thrusting up into you.

“I’ve wanted this since the first night I saw you” Rafe admits as he comes to nip at your neck.

“Rafe!” Your moaning his name as the core in your stomach begins to tighten.

“Let go for me baby, let go for me not him” he reminds you of your boyfriend as your high hits you and you shudder.

Quickly coming back to reality you jump off him.

“We shouldn’t have done that!” You grab your clothes and rush out of the room, completely forgetting about your phone.

Rafe reaches over and stops the video.

“She’s mine now bro”

He sends the video without any remorse and moves to gather his clothes.

This was just the beginning of your relationship with Rafe.

Pt2 🙈

Tag list:

@f4ll-for-you @v21sstuff @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @eventualoptimism @drewstarkeysbae @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf

[piarelei]

Scars

Once again, needed to write something low commitment. Can be seen as a Bullseye sequel. All you need to know is that Jake's dad knows about the Gay Thing, it's Hangster established relationship and that's it.

When he was 14 years old, Jake jumped the fence to follow after his big brothers and scratched his hip badly enough against a nail that he had to get stitches for it. His brothers told this story for every single friend that Jake brought home. Bradley, coming over on false pretense of needing to get away from California during leave, is no exception. 

Jake had hoped that Bradley would fit right in, home turf close enough to a locker room that it would still feel like familiar ground, but he didn’t expect how much. Jake, the ugly (queer) duckling, consequently felt a bit out of touch with his own family. 

“And then,” continued Dave over his siblings’ laughter, “he hid in his emo hoodie the whole way home, like we wouldn’t know he was crying if we couldn’t see it.” 

“Jake? Emo?” Bradley asked, scrunching up his nose. 

Jenny cackled. “Oh yeah! Big emo phase for this one.” 

“Come on, it was barely a few months!” Jake protested. He knew better than to deny it completely. 

“Please,” Sam said, punching Jake in the shoulder. “I spent several summers home from college trying to drown out your music. A few months, my ass!”

“Language,” their father corrected tiredly, watching over the chaos without participating. 

Bradley looked unfortunately delighted by the idea. “Does Javy know?” 

Jake made a face. “Yes, but I have enough blackmail on his ass that it’s never getting out.” 

“Language,” their father tried again, sighing. 

“Well, the emo phase stopped soon after Sophie Rivers joined bible study, didn’t it?” Dave pushed on, tongue in cheek. 

Jake shared a look with his father, who held his gaze with his usual gravitas. 

Jake cleared his throat. “Right, about that…”

“Who wants something?” asked their mother, coming from the kitchen with oven mitts on and something delicious between her hands. 

The clamor of yeses drew the moment away from Jake. He sighed forcefully and reached for a plate of peach cobbler. There would be other times. 

#

His mother, having an uncharacteristically full house, had profusely apologized to Bradley when she had announced that they would have to share Jake’s room. Jake had tried not to combust with maniacal laughter at the news. 

She would get a mattress ready on Jake’s floor, of course. Of course. 

The moment she had been gone, Jake had locked the door and pushed Bradley on his bed, feeling filthy with lust, but unable to stop the wicked desire of having his boyfriend in his childhood bed. It had been a short, but incredible bout of cardio. By the time his brothers had come back carrying a mattress and linens, they were red-cheeked but free of sin. 

At night, curled together despite the heat, Bradley traced the scar on Jake’s hip. 

“You told me you got this bull-riding,” Bradley said, words like a kiss on Jake’s collarbone. 

Jake hummed. “Well. I was following them to a rodeo.”

Bradley laughed. “There’s exaggerating and there’s that.” 

“Well, I couldn’t let you win with all your cool scars stories.”

Bradley snorted. “My scars don’t make me cool. They make me scared of dogs.” 

Jake blindly found Bradley’s head and patted his hair back, soothingly. “We’ll adopt a cat, then. Call him Whiskers.”

“Whisky, for short.” 

“Atta boy.”

Jake was falling asleep when Bradley spoke again. “I’m sorry you weren’t able to come out earlier.” 

Jake fought Morpheus to blink back into the darkness of the room. He sighed. “Well. You could still kiss me at breakfast.” 

Bradley snorted. “Sure, I’ve made bigger sacrifices. If that’s what it takes.” 

“This might kill my mother, actually.” 

Bradley’s arms tightened around Jake. “No reason. She loves you.” 

Jake snuffled Bradley’s hair, breathing in the comforting smell of his shampoo. “You don’t know the kind of stuff they say at church here.” 

“Your dad had no issue.” 

“My dad knows better than to decide things for me. He was never for the whole Navy thing, but he trusts my decisions… My mom, on the other hand, she wants to write the entire story.” 

Bradley caressed his back, his broad palm suffusing comfort. “Sorry.”

Jake remembered with a sudden sense of shame that Bradley still mourned the loss of gus parents. “God, who the fuck am I complaining to. This is stupid, forget it.” 

“No… Sometimes, I think it’s easier to not have any parents. Not often, but… I’ll never know, yeah? I’ll never know so I might as well.”

Jake hummed, shifting impossibly closer. “But you have Mav now, yeah?” 

Bradley smiled in the dark. Jake couldn’t see it but he knew. 

“Mav invented bisexuality. He has no opinion on us dating over than he’s grossed out by his kid having sex.” 

“Gross. Now I’m thinking about Mav having sex.”

“Please, this is nothing compared to my trauma. He gave me the Talk. Twice, when he found me kissing a basketball teammate.” 

“Fuck me, that’s something.” 

“Yeah. Well, it was useful, but it put me off any sort of sex for months.” 

Jake chuckled. “Well, you don’t seem scarred.” 

Bradley’s hands pulled Jake closer for a kiss. “Well, you know. Some things are just too good to resist.”

Hope you liked it, I needed to create something. Show some love with a reblog!

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 13/34 - cinnamon rolls

[Read on AO3]

It’s a little awkward at first, but he gets the sense that she just doesn’t want to be alone after what happened with Pfaster, and he can’t fault her for that. The crime scene cleaners left the place spotless, even had some furniture replaced using some of the insurance money, and he’s thankful that that’s one less thing they need to worry about.

Eventually they fall into a rhythm—commuting to work together, dividing household chores, adding his name to the lease... By the last week of January, he’s almost completely moved in, and things have been good. Really good. It surprises him how little he misses his own apartment and the life he built there. It was never a home.

Scully’s apartment… Well, he can see it becoming one.

He wakes on a Saturday to the sound of knocking on the door, bolting upright, suddenly wide awake. He glances at the time on the clock in the kitchen. Just after 8 a.m.

After the last unwelcome visitor to this address, he's understandably on edge. He briefly wonders if he should have his weapon handy, when the knock sounds again, this time followed by the gentle call of “Dana?”

Maggie. Uh oh.

He rubs his face frantically, smoothing his hair and trying to make himself look like he wasn't asleep just a minute ago. Sure, it might seem like a logical thing to do, to inform his partner’s mother that he now lives with her. But that would mean admitting to a fair few other things that she’s decidedly not ready to tell her, so for now, his mother-in-law remains in the dark.

He hurriedly folds the blanket he was using and throws it and the pillow into the spare bedroom.

He opens the door to Scully's room, hoping she's decent, and whispers loudly, "Scully! Scully, your mom's at the door!"

He gets a muffled, "Huh?" in response before her brain catches up to what he'd said, and she sits up.

It's too early to explain. If they tell her he's moving in, they'll have to tell her about their marriage and the appointment they went to at the adoption agency. They aren't ready for that.

"Should I hide in the other room?" he asks as she stands and puts on her robe.

"Like you're some high school boyfriend I snuck in, Mulder?" she says incredulously as she passes him. "Just go sit on the couch."

He does as she asks, turning on the TV at a low volume and attempting to sit as casually as possible on the couch.

She casts an amused glance at him before opening the door.

"Hi, Mom."

"Dana, did I wake you?"

"Uh, no, I was just getting ready," she lies.

"I would have come later, but I brought breakfast," Maggie says, gesturing with a dish covered in tin foil. "I wanted to see how you're doing. May I come in?"

Scully glances over her shoulder for a second before nodding and stepping aside to allow her mother to enter.

"I brought cinnamon rolls and fruit salad and—” her eyes settle on the unexpected occupant on the couch. “Oh! Hello, Fox!"

He can tell he's caught her off guard.

"Hi Mrs. Scully." He smiles, trying not to cringe at the awkwardness suddenly filling the room.

Mrs. Scully turns to her daughter. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know you had company!"

"Mulder came over to help me go through some stuff to donate," Scully lies again, nodding toward the pile of boxes they have yet to unpack from Mulder's apartment. Good thing he doesn't have his personal items scattered all around yet. Score one for procrastination.

"Oh, do you need any help?" Maggie asks, setting her tray down and taking a step in their direction.

"NO!" Scully says a little too loudly, holding out a hand. "No, that's okay. There's not that much left to do."

"Alright..." Maggie says unsurely, returning to her task of readying their breakfast. "Fox, there's plenty of food,” she adds, glancing up at him kindly. “You're welcome to join us."

He's not sure if it would be better or worse to decline politely, but his growling stomach makes the choice for him.

"Sounds great," he says, standing to join them in the kitchen.

Mrs. Scully's eyes travel down to the plaid pajama pants he wears, then back up with an unreadable smile.

"Laundry day," he says as an excuse, as if he would ever leave the house like this for no reason at all.

She nods, then shakes her head in amusement and unwraps the foil from the pan.

"I'm going to warm these in the oven. Fox, would you mind brewing some coffee?"

"Mom, I can—" Scully tries, but Mulder is quicker.

"I got it, Scully." 

While Maggie is turned away, he collects the coffee mugs that are distinctly his from the cabinet and hides them on the top shelf where they won't be visible. Instead, he extracts three matching ones, all cream colored and coordinated as only Scully could be.

Breakfast passes about as awkwardly as the entire morning has, so far. Mulder manages to stuff a pile of adoption documents into a drawer just before Maggie sees them, and Scully thankfully prevents her from insisting on helping to put food away in the fridge, which is a lot more full now that more than one person lives here. Maggie asks Scully how she's doing, if she has any travel plans, and he decides he'll die on the spot if Scully tells her about their upcoming trip to Los Angeles for a movie premiere that ought to take a few years off his life. Thankfully, she remains tight-lipped about that one. He suspects her hopes for the film are about as high as his, which is to say, not high at all.

Eventually, he starts nervously glancing at the clock, watching the time tick closer and closer to when he's supposed to be at his apartment to arrange the transport of his larger furniture with the movers. If Mrs. Scully doesn't leave soon, he'll have to make up some excuse and leave himself, and Scully won't be able to come as she had planned.

"Mom, I hate to push you out the door, but Mulder and I have some stuff to take care of today," Scully comments, and Mulder suppresses a sigh of relief.

Maggie's eyes widen. The last thing she wants is to be a burden. "Of course!” she says. “I'll let you two get to it. Thanks for letting me drop in."

Scully gives a placid smile. "Thank you for breakfast."

She brushes off her thanks, busying herself with gathering up the dishes she’d brought over, then starting toward the door. "Bye, Fox," she directs toward him on her way out, offering a small wave goodbye.

He reciprocates with a nod and a forced smile. "Bye, Mrs. Scully."

His partner walks her mother to the door, whispering softly as they go. He can still hear them talking in low voices while he gets started on washing the dishes, the elder Scully’s words meant for her daughter’s ears only. He slows his movements, listening in over the sound of sloshing water as best as he can, curiosity getting the best of him.

"I'm your mother, Dana, I can tell when you're lying," Maggie says, her tone admonishing.

He can't hear what, if anything, Dana says in response. If she does speak, it's so quiet that it's beyond the capabilities of his hearing, despite his best efforts.

"If I were in your shoes, I'd feel safer if Fox were sleeping on my couch too, honey, you don't need to be embarrassed,” her mother continues. “It's okay to need someone, especially after what you've been through."

Scully sighs. "That's not…” she starts, then gives up and finishes with, “Okay, yeah, thanks Mom."

"You call me if you need anything," Maggie tells her.

Scully smiles. "I will. I love you."

"Love you too, sweetie.” She wraps her daughter in a hug, pressing a kiss to her cheek before pulling away. “Next time I'll call before I stop by, hmm?"

He can tell Scully is blushing just by the sound of her voice.

"I– I think that would be a good idea."

"Have a good day, Dana." Then, louder, "You too, Fox."

He gives one last awkward wave goodbye from the sink, and she leaves.

Scully puts her face in her hands as soon as she's gone, and groans.

"The secret lives to see another day," Mulder announces triumphantly, setting the dish drying towel aside with a wry smile. Scully shoots him a look, and he relents. "If this gets too hard, you can tell her, you know."

"No, it's fine,” she says, waving him off. “She just can't drop by and visit like that anymore. It's not going to work."

He presses his lips together, wondering if maybe they had rushed into things a little. He hopes she doesn’t regret it.

"I'm sorry, Scully,” he apologizes. “Maybe we should have waited."

She shakes her head, which comes as an instant relief to him. "Either way, this would have happened eventually,” she says. “But if this adoption doesn't work out..."

"It will," he says without hesitating.

"What if it doesn't?"

Not an option, he thinks.

"Then I can just get another apartment," he answers with a shrug.

She stares at him incredulously. "After going through all this trouble to get rid of the one you have now?” she asks. “Maybe it's not too late to hold onto it, you can tell them you've changed your mind."

He looks at her. "Is that what you want me to do?" he asks.

Her shoulders deflate. "I just don't want this to be harder than it needs to be if your plans fall through," she admits, concern pinching her eyebrows together.

This is one of those moments, he knows, where they need to be really clear with communication. It doesn’t come easily to either of them, but it matters. He hopes his next question will bring some clarity to the discussion, as much as her potential answer terrifies him.

"So if we don't end up adopting, you'd rather I go?"

Once the words are out, he watches closely for her response, trying to guess what she’s thinking by the look on her face.

Her confusion does nothing to alleviate his unease.

"Why would you stay?" she asks.

That’s easy, he thinks.

"Better company than at my place," he answers with a shrug.

He can see her thinking over his response, assessing him to see if he’s joking or not. It seems she—rightfully—comes to the correct conclusion. He’s dead serious.

"I– I'd want you to stay,” she says finally, her words providing him with the reassurance he needed. “The number of times we've both had our places broken into, I'd feel a lot better if..."

"I couldn't agree more,” he interrupts, smiling wide.

"And we spend almost every day together anyway,” she continues. “And when we travel, one of us always has to drive across town to pick the other up…"

"Logistically, we should have done this years ago," he finishes for her, and oh , how true that is. There’s a lot of things he should have done years ago.

She laughs. "I haven't had a roommate since med school."

"You smell a lot better than the one I had at Oxford," he jokes.

Her answering eye roll is worth every second he had to share a room with Reginald Butts, an aptly named law student. 

"Thanks for that, Mulder. I'm sure that's high praise."

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @clo-thespin @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @gillian-anderson-in-the-tardis @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear

[novankenn]

Tenuous Partnership (10)

Glynda was not happy about what Peter had done. In particular exposing Jaune to such a potent stimulus. She carefully watched Jaune, as the young man continued to sip at his drink. She was certain Peter had seen what she was seeing now. Jaune's claws had unsheathed. The blood had affected him, causing him to unconsciously bare the vicious weapons.

Glynda sighed and drained the remains of her own liquid meal. This was going to be a conversation and a half with Jaune's mother in the morning. She was also going to have to speak to the Headmaster about Jaune not taking part in initiation as they had originally planned. There were too many risks, and she had so much more to instruct the poor lad in.

"Finish up, and then we'll head to bed." Glynda told her nephew, while standing up and moving to rinse out her canister. "It's been a long day."

Jaune said nothing, and proceeded to drain the rest of his own meal. He rose from his seat upon the couch, and suddenly felt faint. He weaved on his feet, dropping his canister. It hit the coffee table with a hollow plastic thunk.

"Jaune!" Glynda called out as she dashed from the kitchen sink to his side in a fraction of a second, catching him before he could fully collapse. "Jaune?"

"Dizzy. Tired." he mumbled, before becoming dead weight in his aunt's arms. Even the serpents of his hair lay about his face and head limp and listless.

"You shouldn't be this tired, after ingesting human blood." Glynda commented to herself as she scooped up her nephew and carried him into his room. She carefully placed him on the bed, and pulled the quilt his mother had made for him over his form.

"Sleep well, Jaune." she whispered before giving him a gentle kiss on the forehead and leaving the room, closing the door behind her. It was getting late, so she also retired for the night.

As Vale fell into slumber, Pyrrha Nikos was up as the sun began to rise into the air. Today was the day she would start the newest chapter in her life. It was the day she would leave for Beacon and start her the final stages of her training to become not only a Huntress but also a Slayer.

With so much nervous energy she was in your family's training facilities. Dressed in a thin and flimsy plain linen dress, cinched about her waist with a wide leather belt, she worked through a litany of stances. The kopis her mother had gifted to her flashing in the light of the rising sun that streamed through the floor to ceiling windows.

Once this warm up was complete she would move on to more strenuous exercises. Ones designed to really get her blood pumping. She wanted to feel a comforting burning ache through out her body as she rested during her trip to Vale and then Beacon.

"You're up early, sweetheart." came a chipper and amused feminine voice from the doorway. "Today is the day, isn't it?"

"Mother." Pyrrha greeted, as she paused in her exercises. "Yes, it is. I'm so excited!"

"It's good to be so, but remember..."

"This is not a holiday. It's about shaping my future."

"Very good." Athena commended. "But there is nothing wrong with having some fun at the same time. Maybe even finding a cute boy?"

"Mother!" Pyrrha blushed as she turned her back upon the matron of the Nikos family. "Is father up?"

"Yes. He's been up for awhile... in the kitchen."

"The kitchen?" Pyrrha asked once again turning to face her mother. "Why?"

"I think he's trying to make a special breakfast for you..." Athena giggled, "He is looing his little girl after all."

"No he's not. I'll be coming back during holiday's and term breaks."

"Yes, be that as it may, he's totally accepted the idea of you finding a boyfriend, getting married having kids, and never coming home to visit."

"Huh?"

"Don't question it, dear." Athena laughed lightly. "It's just how your father is."

"Should I be scared about what he's making?" Pyrrha asked while sheathing her kopis.

"No. I think it will be safe." Athena replied a mirthful smile still curling her lips. "Shall we see what you father is up to?"

Athena offered her daughter her arm, and Pyrrha laughed as she took it. The pair stepping out of the training room and heading towards the kitchen and dining room, for whatever special meal was being created for Pyrrha's last morning at home.

/==/

Additional Chapters can be found by following this link; Utter & Complete Insanity (2)

[the-fiction-witch]

Young Love p3

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Smut

Requests Please please please please make part 3 of young love 🙏  I absolutely need part 3 of young love. PLEASE! Fiction Witch, please do a part 3 ahhhhhh pls I beg ANOTHER ONE 😍❤️😍❤️💕😍😍💕❤️ Pleaaseee another one it's getting interesting you could make a mini fanfic out if this Part 3 please ❤ Part 3 please 🥺 When you gonna update Young Love Part 3 if you don't mind me asking? And i wanted to you make Jack Dawkins jealous of Y/N's crush that make her flustered and affection. He thought he is the only one make her flustered and he don't like it. I hope you like my suggestion!!! part 3!!💋 Can you do a part 3 of young love please?

I got myself dressed for the day or at least dressed though for breakfast, 

"why do I have to stay up here while you go down for breakfast?" Jack asked from my bed where he had been laid as I dressed,

"Becuase I said so Jack," 

"But why? I'm hungry." 

"Because, if we go down together hand in hand it fuels the idea in their minds we were fucking,"

"...we were fucking." 

"I know! but I don't want them to know that."

"Your mother walked in on us while I sat on the end of your bed completely naked, with you also completely naked standing between my legs while I was kissing your breasts... you really think your mother hasn't assumed where fucking?" 

"I don't want to encourage them."

"You realize me coming down after you look like we were fucking and I needed time to recover?" He suggested 

"...God damn it that's a good point." I sighed, 

"And if you go down and get breakfast without me it again looks like we were fucking and I had to lay down to recover, or if I go down without you they're gonna think I fucked you so hard I made you black out."

"... Damn it."

"Y/n no matter what you do, your family is going to assume where fucking." he explained, "even just being up here alone after that they're gonna assume we're still fucking." 

"come down after me, just give it some time." I told him fixing my hair and heading to the door, "And be... normal."

"Normal?"

"yes, be a normal gentleman Jack. You know not like you."

"...I'll try not to be offended by that," 

"Try harder," I told him before I went down for breakfast, 

I sat at the table nibbling at breakfast trying to not draw attention to myself even if everyone was looking at me and trying to pry into my business, I avoided as many I could, praying for Jack to come down so he had to answer these questions. I heard the stairs so I sighed in relief but as Jack walked in I wanted to crawl into a hole a die. 

As Jack walked into the kitchen in his white cotton shirt and his white cotton underwear, And nothing else! 

"Morning," He greeted leaning on the door frame, 

"Ohh Morning Doctor Dawkins, breakfast?" my mother asked,

"Absolutely, I am starving." He smiled coming to sit beside me and kissing my cheek, "Had an active night didn't I darling." 

He got his breakfast and everyone began chatting the moment attention was off as I grabbed his hand crushing it as tight as I could, "I swear to god I am going to chain you in my room and beat you with a fire poker."

"Ummm didn't know you had such vicious tastes little girly," he smirked, 

"The idea was to NOT draw attention to the fucking."

"Yeah, I know,"

"Then why!"

"That's what you get for calling me not normal" he winked before eating his toast, 

"I hate you so much doctor Dawkins."

"Love you too little girly," 

When I finally escaped my parents and got Jack to put some Damn Pants on! which was not something I ever imagined needing to do. Yet here we are. I tried to kick him out but my parents insisted I walk him back to the Hospital Of course, Jack found this amusing so was gonna make me do it, so we stood walking back to the hospital through Port Victory. 

"You are so pouty this morning little girly,"

"Pouty! Can you think why I might be!"

"I assume my amazing performance as your boyfriend? or are you just grumpy we can't snuggle anymore?" he smirked ticking me,

"Ahhh!" I yelped pushing his hands off my waist and bashing him on the head with my parasol, "No."

"what is it with you women carrying your damn parasols." He sighed rubbing his head, 

"I am not grumpy, much less over snuggles."

"Liar," 

"I am not!"

"So you're not going to go back to your room and snuggle up in bed with one of your books and think about me?" He smirked grabbing my hand twirling it around my head and grabbing my waist to pull me to his chest as he spoke making me blush bright red, 

"No, I am not." I protested pushing away, 

"why not? I will about you," He smirked, "About my cute little girly sat bouncing on top of me," 

"maybe..." I answered adjusting my dress,

"Maybe?"

"Shut up Jack." 

"So? when am I going to be needed to put in another amazing performance? in front of your family ... or in your bedroom?" 

"I don't know," I sighed "I'm still mad at you." 

"For what?"

"For- For what! You came down to breakfast with my parents in your undergarments!"

"Yeah? no matter what your family were going to assume we had sex, I merely confirmed it." 

"You don't think my mother walking in on us was enough!"

"You're cute when you're mad,"

"Ughh you are infuriating," I sighed, stopping for a moment as we reached the docks hoping for the usual sight,

"There a reason we're stopping?"

"Nothing," I sighed as I looked to see one of the dock workers, I didn't know his name but he was a handsome man who often made me think things I shouldn't honestly he was the closest I had to being in love, Jack noticed and looked too standing beside me with his hands in his pockets,

"I take it you're into one of them?"

"No!"

"Y/n I'm your fake boyfriend you can tell me,"

"Maybe..."

"why don't you fake date him then?"

"My family would never allow it,"

"I think you're families pretty happy with anyone so long as you're banging them,"

"Jack!"

"Having sex with them then. God you really hate that word don't you?" 

"I do." I said, "But even so, it's not a life I'd want to wait months wondering if my husband will come home, I can... have a crush its just not practical." 

"Fair enough, what does he read you sweet stories and pitch you woo then?"

"No, just makes me flustered is all," I blushed, 

"Which one?" 

"Jason Liswick."

"Helpful, descriptive words little girly, you read enough books I'm sure you can eloquently describe him." 

"He's tall, and broad, and handsome, tanned with sweet brown curls..."

"Wait- You talking about the one in the blue coat?"

"Yes... His sweet sapphire blue velvet coat-"

"That. Really?" 

"Yes,"

"Him!" he asked giving me the most disgusted and confused look, "Really?"

"Yes. I think he's handsome." 

"...That is handsome to you?" He asked, "That?"

"Yes."

"You think that! and I am attractive?"

"Not on the same level but yes."

"Ohh my god I suddenly feel so insulted." 

Jason spotted me and waved so I happily waved back blushing hard, watching him work a while but I glanced back to Jack and saw him with the most rage-filled look glaring at Jason like he wanted to kill him. "What?"

"Nothing." he snapped,

"What?"

"Nothing!" he crossed his arms, 

"Ohh come on what's that face about."

"Nothing." 

"Jack, I'm your fake girlfriend you can tell me,"

"shut up Y/n."

"Jack? are you... are you jealous?"

He grabbed my hand and forced me down the alleyway pushing my body up against the wall

"Why would I be jealous of some little troll!"

"I -"

"Why would I be jealous? He can't have you like I can?" he smirked kissing my neck, 

"Wha-"

"He's not the one snuggled in your bed, he's not the one kissing you, watching you naked, and getting to fuck you as much as he wants," He smirked his hands tugging up my dress to slip his hand up my thigh and begin stroking my clit

"Jack what-" I gasped in shock unsure if I wanted him to stop or keep going, I have to admit after his performance last night I did sort of want him to keep going but we were in public! anyone could look down the alley and see us like this, "I never said you could as much as you-"

"You might not have said it but we both know I will." He smirked, slipping two fingers inside me

"Ughhhhh!" I squealed trying to stay quiet and not draw attention, 

"You've been quite the tease all these years little girly, now you've given me an In and maybe that's all I wanted, all I needed." He smirked, "Maybe I told Sneed to ask your parents for your hand knowing you would fight against it at all costs. Maybe I knew your bookworm brain enough to know you'd try and wrestle out of it telling them you had a boyfriend, and that I am your only option to ask anyone to be one." 

"Are you-" I began, "Are you seriously... You Planned this!"

"Maybe I did," he smirked, "Maybe some were planned and some were convenient," he sniggered "or maybe I just know you so well" He smirked, 

"And your end goal of this was?"

"Humm to get you in bed with me," he smirked, "Which I got, but after last night... I am not letting you go little girly." He growled, "You can drop that little crush right now, that boy is never going to look at you again, never going to touch this pretty body, because You're mine." he demanded. "You're mine and don't you even think about letting another boy so much as think about you, And I swear I will make you scream every night until you remember who you belong to." he smirked, 

"You- you're not serious..." I whined already feeling close,

"I am deadly serious little girly. You're mine. I've been established in your family, and they know I've fucked you, as far as they're concerned I'm your loving boyfriend and we've done far too much for you to ever be allowed to marry anyone but me," he smirked, "And I am going to."

"You- you're what!"

"I'm going to marry you, so you're mine in law and body. I'm gonna make you my pretty little wifey."

"You will not."

"I will. you're not gonna stop me little girly. As soon as your family are more comfortable around me I'll ask them, and you know how badly they want their sweet daughter to be married to a man who loves her so devotedly, we'll get married, and the two of us will spend our days buried In our marriage bed together, you can read your cute little books all you want darling so long as I am the only real man who gets to touch you. Do we have a deal?"

"Jack i-" 

"Do we have a deal y/n?" he smirked, "Becuase if we don't I'll tell your family everything."

"So either I agree and we get married, or you'll tell my family everything was a lie."

"That's the deal little girly,"

"... I'm not sure I have much of a choice here."

"Hmmm no. You don't." he smirked kissing my lips with passion and enthusiasm as I hit my orgasm grabbing him hard as my legs shook and my whole body collapsed against the wall, "Good girl," he cooed, moving his hand away. 

"You are an evil little man you know that Jack."

"You're evil little husband." he corrected, "Come on wifey we can play around in my bed when we get back to the hospital," he smirked wrapping his arm around me 

"Yes jack," I nodded laying my head on his shoulder,

"Awww good little girly," he cooed, "And you so much as look at that boy again I'll bend you over my bed and spank you, we clear?"

"Yes Jack," I nodded,

"Good, come on then." he smirked leading me out the alley towards the hospital, 

[themultifandomgal]

Shelby Clan- A New Shelby Member

While the men were away at war, YNs father died from a gunshot wound, but not only that her mother passed away from heartbreak. This caused YN to end up in care at the age of 14. Thankfully though that didn't last long though. Polly Gray decided to adopt the sweet, shy, quiet girl.

For the next next year, YN struggles to get close to Ada because of how loud she is, however Finn and YN get on well making YN feel comfortable. That all changes when Arthur, Tommy and John come home. YN finds it hard to fit into the loud rambunctious family. Now YN is 15 years old, she's still shy and quiet, nothing like her new family.

YN sits in the kitchen reading a book while the family tuck into their breakfast

"YN put that book down at the table" Polly scolds placing some food in front of her

"Sorry Polly" the shy girl says placing her book down making Finn laugh

"After breakfast I'd like you to head down to the market get us some more bread and milk"

"I'll send Isaiah with her" Tommy says. Out of all the Shelby's Tommy is the most protective of YN. They all are, but Tommy is the one who most protective

"She'll be fine Tommy"

"I'll still send Isaiah with her"

"YN eat up" Polly says again knowing there's not point arguing with Tommy because either way Isaiah will be going with YN.

"You cousins are protective of you aren't they" Isaiah says walking down the street with YN

"Adoptive cousins. And yes" YN quietly chuckles

"Got a new girl Isaiah!" a boy shouts towards the pair laughing. YN immediately lowers her head, looking at the floor

"Just ignore them"

"Oh come on. Why don't you share?" YN then feels a hand on her arm making her gasp

"Let her go" Isaiah says sternly

"Come on let's go, she's a Shelby" another guy says

"Yeah only adopted by then. She's just a sad little orphan. Forget it. Have her" Isaiah pulls YN away, instead of going to the market he takes her home knowing that she already has tears pricking her eyes.

Unfortunately for YN this guy doesn't leave her alone. She's subjected to being bullied at school and on the way home from school, but YN refuses to tell anyone what's going on. Polly can tell something is going on with her, she tries to talk to her, but YN pretends she's ok.

On the way home from school YN takes a short cut down by the canal

"Oi YN!" YN lifts her head up to see the same guys who have been bullying her since that day at the market. Her feet move quickly under her feet trying to get home as quick as possible "hang where do you think your going?" hands grab on her arms

"Please let me go"

"Haven't got your boyfriend here to help you now" the boy laughs

"Please don't hurt me" YN pulls away

"I think she needs a cool down don't you?" another boy chuckles

"No no please I can't swim" YN now yells with tears running down her face

"Aww what a shame" and with that YN is pushed into the cut. Slashing about and spluttering she tries to keep her head above water as best she can. Little do the boys know that Finn was playing down by the cut and saw the whole thing. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him and bursts into the betting shop where his brothers all are

"Tom" he breathes out catching everyone's attention "Tom it's YN. She's in the cut, she can't swim" Tommy look at John and Arthur signalling for them to follow him and Finn.

When they arrive they see a tired looking YN struggling to stay afloat while a group of boys are stood laughing. Tommy takes off his hat and wast coat jumping into the water without a thought

"You think this is fucking funny?!" Arthur yells walking over to the boys "your lucky your kids because if you weren't..."

"Arthur!" John yells "let's take you home to your parents" John and Arthur take the boys by their ears as Tommy pulls a shivering YN out of the water

"Let's get you home eh?"

"What the bloody hell happened!" Polly yells seeing YN with wet hair sat by the fire with a blanket around her shoulders

"YN has failed to tell us that she's being bullied at school. Today some of her classmates decided to push her into the cut. Thankfully Finn was there, came to get us"

"Where are your brothers?"

"Taking the idiots home" Polly then sighs

"Ok well let's get you into a warm bath" YN gives her adoptive mum a nod before following her.

Yes she's different from the Shelby's, but this only went to show how much they all see her as part of their family.

[ronearoundblindly]

Eighty-Three Kisses

CEO!Steve Rogers x CEO!Reader

an It Had To Be You tale of tender first aid requested by @anika-ann who thought: I'm not sure why but my heart would MELT upon seeing Steve giving Precious some ⛑ (as such, warning for mentions of blood) WC 1.3k

Not your favorite way to wake up…

Roused in the morning dark of New York winter, Steve’s mom calls him bright and early. She is one of only four people who can evade his Do Not Disturb setting, and as much as you enjoy Sarah, you groan in irritation when Steve has to untuck himself from beneath you in the sheets.

But that’s not where it ends.

He takes the call and walks out to his kitchen. His voice only just becomes inaudible when your mother calls.

Chatty. Mom is chatty way too early this morning, and she wants participation in her gossip.

You get it; your parents are pure balls of excitement about their upcoming trip to NYC to see you and officially meet your boyfriend for the first time, but 6:50 in the morning on a day off is not a great moment to get reciprocation of any amount of energy.

It’s not even five in the morning where your mom is. Come on now.

You hold the phone arm’s length away to scream into your pillow before heaving yourself out of bed. Maybe if she hears Steve’s voice in the background, your mom will think you’re busy and need to get off the call? Maybe standing up will help keep your eyelids raised? You’re so tired, you’ll try anything.

As soon as your butt hits the couch cushion though, your eyes shut again, too comfortable, too quickly. You jump up and meander over to the exercise bike, muttering something about the neighbor Mom’s had this same beef with for a decade, but she’s on a roll now. You barely need to interject an “uh-huh” or “yeah.” Your mother just keeps going.

So you sit on the bike, lazily putting one foot on the higher pedal, and you nudge it. Nothing happens.

Steve rustles the coffee beans into the maker and pulls down plates because if he’s awake, he wants breakfast. He’ll go back to sleep if he can, but if he’s conscious, food should happen. That’s the Steve Standard of a morning ritual. He also has very little input for his conversation, mostly humming every so often.

You hear the crack of eggs against the bowl’s rim and yawn, hiding that sound as best you can from your mother.

Your dad is equally grumbly in the background. He chides his wife with you in solidarity.

The pan sizzling acts as white noise countered by the first whiffs of brewing coffee.

“Of course, I’m listening,” you rush out, leaning forward on the handlebars and mock-bashing your head.

Steve must have turned to watch you because you hear his deep chuckle from across the room.

Absently, you step onto the pedal, thinking it will start rotating as you press down. You don’t realize how high Steve has turned up the resistance until it’s too late. You stand with your full weight on the tiny, shifting pad, and your foot slips right off when the mechanism caves.

Off-balance and crash-landing on your foot, your ankle tweaks out harshly, and the hard plastic grooves for friction scrape all along your bare calf. It hurts like hell but happens so fast that you hardly make a sound aside from hissing.

The phone drops out of your hand as you untangle yourself from the bike and trip down to the floor.

“Honey?” Steve clearly hasn’t seen until “shit” and you hear the pan torn off the burner and his own phone tossed to the counter. “Precious, you okay? What—“

Thin gashes are already red and bleeding all up your leg. The pain is such a tense sting that you can’t manage much else other than biting your tongue and clutching at the wound, but Steve peels your fingers away, ripping the kitchen towel from over his shoulder to apply pressure.

“It’s fine,” you still hiss. “I’m fine, Steve.”

His huge palm and fingers splay across the fabric, his other hand guiding your over to replace them after he coos, “I know. I’m just gonna clean it up. I’ll be right back. Can you hold this? Just there. Good girl. Ok.”

He jumps up and thunders to the bathroom.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on? Hello?”

You look up to where your phone dangles in the water bottle holder by the bike’s handles, but you can’t reach it without harsh sensations shooting around your foot and leg.

“I’m fine, Mom,” you yell toward the phone. “I just fell. I’ll call you back later.”

There’s an incoherent fuss, your dad’s voice joins what sounds like muttering but is more likely a heated argument on the other end, and then the screen lights when the call disconnects.

Steve returns with a little box and a white bottle.

“Ok, precious--" he leans to kiss your knee "--you ready? This part is gonna hurt.”

You pull back the stained towel, lip lodged between your teeth, and Steve soaks a cotton ball. He bares his teeth when you react to the bite of alcohol.

The excess drips down to the mat.

“I know, honey. You’re doing so good though. Just a little more." He tries to move the foot. "Can you—“

“OW!” Like a shot, your ankle cries all the way up to your hip. “Sorry,” you say through threatening tears, “I landed on it wrong.”

Steve’s hand cradles the joint, keeping it still even as he lowers to kiss there, too, his blue eyes worried. “Okay, I’ll get ice for that, but first, we cover this.” He wipes gently at the deepest gash by your Achilles tendon before ripping open a packet of antibacterial ointment. “Just another minute, alright? You’re doing great.”

His rough morning voice and soothing tenor nudge your heart rate back in the right direction.

At least the medication doesn’t hurt. Between treatment and bandaging, he lifts your wrist to his lips and plants a double tap of encouragement.

"So good," he rumbles.

Steve carefully unfolds and layers some gauze across the whole area and carefully tapes the edges. On instinct, you bend your knee to get yourself up, but the tape pops right off when you flex.

“Uh-uh, precious. You’re not doing anything until we get some ice on that.”

You think he means to leave you sitting on the ground, but Steve pivots to a squatting position, tucks his arms beneath your knees and around your waist, and lifts you straight into the air, kissing your cheek for good measure.

Well…all that gym equipment’s been good for something…

He carries you all the way back to the bed, kissing your forehead to force you to relax backward and excusing himself to the kitchen again. A few drawers open and shut. There’s a racket of ice clattering into a bag.

Another light scuttering noise.

“Ma, I gotta go. Yeah, I love ya. Okay, bye.” He rounds the doorway again, compress and coffee at the ready.

Steve wraps a fresh towel over your skin before arranging the ice to lay just right, covering as much curve as possible without too much pressure. By the time he’s satisfied, he’s created a majestic-looking nest of sheets and blanket around your foot.

You chuckle as you blow across the hot liquid in your toasty mug.

This is his near-military precision and focus again, except this time, you are the mission.

Finally, his equally warm gaze meets yours, dawn breaking outside the wall of windows surrounding the corner room.

“Want your phone back?” he asks softly.

You shake your head. “They can wait.”

Everything still aches, the dull throb seeming miles away when Steve grips your thigh before straightening.

“You know, precious, if you wanted breakfast in bed, you could have just asked.”

You shrug, a little embarrassed but very appreciative. This certainly hasn’t been your favorite way to wake up, but it’s not the worst either. Plus, the morning has just begun.

“Sometimes the only thing that gets your attention is a crisis, Captain.”

from this game of "Comfort My Characters"

Thank you for asking!

@bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp @rach2602 @patzammit @royalwritersoftheuniverses @supraveng @1950schick @yiiiikesmish

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[princelylove]

Oh I love how you add Holy and Lisa Lisa in, I love them too, need more content for them ~

I wonder how would their reaction/feeling and punishment when they discover darling's love is fake, they just pretending to love them so they can escape.

~ 🏵️ anon ~

Hii, 🏵️anon. Cutting a few out since I wanted to go into detail- I’ll probably make a continuation of the others down the line. 

Content warnings: Reader death, noncon/dubcon in Jolyne’s part, general violence, and gaslighting 

Holly would hate to hear that! She herself wouldn’t punish you, she’s definitely going to cry about it and lock herself in her kitchen for a little bit. She’s deeply hurt, how could you say something like that to your wife?? She channels her emotion into cooking or baking something she knows you like to eat. It’s an apology gift, and she’s prepared a list of things she’s going to do better for you! Holly hopes you forgive her, and understands if you still need some time to think about things. But, in the end, Holly’s not willing to get a “divorce,” so you’re not going anywhere. She sits on her knees and shoves her hands under her legs when she brings you breakfast, and tries not to talk too much. Is her voice annoying? Do you not like how she makes things cutesy? She rents books about marriage, watches programs on television about relationships, and calls her mother or father for advice. She might even vent to Jotaro, but she tries not to. She doesn’t want to worry him- mainly because he has no problem breaking bones. 

It… doesn’t really matter if you like Jotaro or not. As long as you submit, he’s going to lie to himself. You can say whatever you want, he’s just going to tell you to shut up and stop whining. You’re stupid, you have no idea what you’re talking about. You need him, and he needs you to just stay put and let him protect you from the evils of the world.. Jotaro’s convinced that everything is trying to eat you, and he’s not going to just let it. He won’t punish you until you actually do something- words are just words, and Jotaro is convinced you’re all bark and no bite. If he catches you storing ‘shit’ to take when you run away, he’ll drag you by your wrists into your room, make sure you sit and stay, put everything back, and give you a light slap on your wrist. Jotaro would prefer to restrain you with his own hands, but he can’t really sit there and hold you down all day, so chains will have to do until he’s ready to “cuddle” for the night- which is just him holding you down and smelling your neck for a couple hours. Try to run away too often and Jotaro will just take away your ability to walk. You can keep your legs, he won’t remove them, but he will break them. He babies you throughout the healing process. When your legs finally do heal, if you still aren’t willing, he’ll just break them again. It was fun taking care of you, why wouldn’t he? 

Josuke takes it pretty personally. It’s hard not to. I mean, you can’t just go around saying that he’s a “creep” and “not your boyfriend.” Words have meaning, babe. You can’t throw a tantrum just ‘cause he got a little handsy with you. It’s just him. Somebody’s gonna hear you and think he’s beating you or something, you gotta cut it out. Josuke’s fairly lenient compared to the rest of his family- what are you really escaping from? He’s not trapping you, and it’s not like he really gets in your way. You’re overreacting ‘cause he didn’t read the room right, jeez. Josuke’s going to gaslight you and physically get in the way of every exit. He scoffs a bit when you tell him he’s overbearing- who, him?? What’s he done that’s overbearing? Oh! Oh, he’s overbearing ‘cause he wants to know what his partner is doing?? Yeah, right, that makes total sense- look, why don’t you just blow off some steam and come talk to him when you have a real problem with his behavior. 

Giorno already knows. Did you truly believe that you would be able to hide something like that from him? Giorno survives off of hope- Perhaps Guido’s philosophy of “things will always work out in the end” has rubbed off on him. You’ll come around. He won’t react to minor threats or tantrums, not even directly getting in his face and screaming at him will make Giorno budge. The only real way to get under his skin is to attempt to abandon him- he feels everything he felt when he was little. He’s just a small, frail little boy again when he finds your hoard of essentials hidden away. If you want to leave him so badly, fine, leave him. One of his bodyguards will bring you back, and he’ll try again, after a bit of coping with his situation (Brooding in his room wondering what could possibly be so awful about him), and starving you of any enrichment or social interaction. If you ever were to strike him, or otherwise attempt his life, Giorno’s instincts would take over. His hands tremble so much that he drops whatever weapon he confiscated from you mid attempt, and he’ll stay frozen in place until Guido or Sheila E comes to check on him. 

Jolyne was hoping her insecure thoughts were wrong. Part of her wants to snap, The hell is wrong with you? Of course you love her, you’re making her sound like she’s Narciso or something. You were just cuddling up to her telling her how big her muscles were the other day, did you get a fuckin’ lobotomy done on you in the hour she left you alone? The other part of her falls into a bit of a depression. Of fucking course you don’t love her. She was really trying, too. She could beat your ass for lying to her, but she’s not gonna. She’s too miserable. She throws herself into the gym and replays every single interaction she’s ever had with you- that was seriously all a lie so you could get her off your ass? The next time you see her- which is likely her hunting you down- she traps you in a small room, probably your cell. She genuinely just wants to talk about how cruel you are. If you try to run, Jolyne gets in your way, and uses her stand to hold you in place. Looking down at you like this, all tied up… it just sorta clicks. This is how it’s meant to be. Your door locks, right? Probably not, she can put something in front of it. She’s got some pent up frustration to take out on you. 

[bigdumbbambieyes]

Billy’s always woken up early, just before sunrise, since the age of 6.

Most of it was due to his mother, who’d wake him by running her fingers through his hair and whispering that it was time to get up and say good morning to the sun. She’d gather his sleepy body in her arms and carry him to the kitchen, then out the back door, and to the garden. There, with his chubby cheek against her collarbone, he’d watch the sunrise through sleep-fuzzed eyes and whisper ‘morning’.

When she left, and there was no one to pull him out of bed to greet the sun, he did it himself with an alarm clock stuffed under his pillow, just so he didn’t wake his father in the next room. He got up early, just before the sun, to eat a quick breakfast and take his surfboard from the garage, and take off running to the beach to greet the sun over the waves.

At the age of eighteen, when he woke up in a town he hated in the Midwest, he still woke up before the sun. But, he was tired. He never used to be tired when waking up early. He figured it wasn’t the time that caused the deep exhaustion in his bones, but something else.

Something like his father.

And everyone else who didn’t care about him.

Well…except him.

Billy wasn’t sure how it happened. How it still happened. How he managed to be so unlovable and hated yet still hold Harrington’s heart so carefully in his hands.

Now, at the age of twenty-nine, he still wakes up early, without an alarm clock and with no one to wake him. The sunrise lives in his body, calling him from his dreams and nightmares when it’s time.

The sky is dark when he turns to look out of the window, glancing at the clock by their bed while Steve snores quietly beside him.

Kissing his pretty boy’s forehead, he quietly and slowly slips out of bed, and goes to make coffee.

Their small house is quiet as the floorboards creak under his weight, which is something he never thought he’d be able to do without that familiar sense of fear. Still, he’s as quiet as a mouse in the morning because old habits die hard, and he watches the coffee drip into the pot with his chin in his hand.

His gaze flicks up to the calendar above the pot and he eyes it, making note of the little scribbled ‘need more oreos’ in Steve’s handwriting and smiling.

He pours the coffee quietly and escapes to the backyard, taking a slow and careful sip as he watches the sky come alive.

When the sun finally shows, Billy mutters, “Morning,” against the rim of his mug and wonders if his mother is doing the same.

By the time seven am rolls around, he’s back inside and pouring a second cup into his mug, but adding a splash of cream before making his way back of the bedroom where Steve is struggling to wake up.

He knows Steve has snoozed the alarm three times by now because Billy’s not the only one with bad habits.

He sets the coffee down on the bedside table and leans over his boyfriend, watching the way Steve’s face scrunches and his bleary eyes open, red and tired, but his smile is soft as he hums, ‘mm’.

“Good morning to you, too,” Billy smirks before he’s leaning down to kiss Steve’s cheek and nose and lips, pressing his body down against Steve’s warm one and feeling arms circle his shoulders and neck in a hug.

“Tired,” Steve half-whines as Billy kisses his neck and jaw lazily, slowly, trying to coax his boyfriend back into the waking world.

Billy hums back and nuzzles deeper, mutters, “I know, but I got your coffee, so…”

The mention of coffee works like a charm, like it does every morning, and Steve’s sitting up in bed as Billy hands him the mug, the both of them sharing a quick ‘good morning’ kiss.

“Breakfast?” Billy hums as he pulls away, watching his love.

Steve nods as the mug hovers in front of his face, his eyes closing again as he takes a loud slurp of his coffee.

Billy hopes his early mornings never change.

[jackhues]

the boys helping peanut get mom the perfect mother’s day present &/or celebrating mother’s day for mama and queen ellen

peanut's world! au - mother's day

note: kinda made my own spin on this, but i hope you guys like it!

peanut smiled toothily at the sight of her uncle trying to blend in with a baseball cap and sunglasses (in the winter).

"my uncles are here!" she said, pointing in the direction of quinn, jack and luke.

the teacher nodded along, opening the playground door just in time for peanut to run like crazy and throw herself in jack's arms.

"hey p," jack grinned, ruffling her hair. "you ready for the most awesome day of your life?"

p giggled, avoiding jack's eyes.

"what's wrong?" jack asked her. "are you not excited to spend the rest of the day with me and uncle lu?"

mama and mat were out on a date, leaving six year old peanut in the care of her three uncles for the rest of the evening.

"you guys look so silly in your sunglasses," she rolled her eyes. "it's summer, you goofs."

jack blinked, unsure of how to respond.

"what's that sticking out of your backpack?" luke asked, quickly switching the subject. "can i take it out?"

"mhm!" peanut nodded her head enthusiatically.

luke pulled out the item as the four of them walked towards the car, unwrapping it with a confused look on his face.

"it's a...?"

"it's a mug!" peanut grinned. "for mother's day."

"that's what you're getting mama for mother's day?" quinn asked, immediately clamping his mouth shut after that sentence.

"yeah, we made it at school!" she grinned. "now we just have to wait to give it to mama on sunday."

the boys exchanged glances, before quinn smiled fondly in p's direction, "it's the cutest mug ever. now, we gotta start planning the day out. sunday's closer than you think it is."

-

mama rolled over in bed, furrowing her brows as she didn't feel mat.

she peeked an eye open, slowly sitting up, only to see the room empty and the house suspiciously silent.

"that's not a good sign," she muttered to herself.

heading downstairs, she kept an ear open to try and hear peanut - she never stopped talking. she could hear whispers and noises, but she couldn't quite place what was being said.

following the noises to the kitchen, mama furrowed her brows at the sight of her brothers, her daughter, and her boyfriend in the kitchen.

"what're you guys doing?" she asked.

all five of them jumped, staring at mama like a deer in headlights.

"it's seven in the morning," she said to them. "can't a girl sleep in?"

"we were being quiet," jack protested.

"that was the problem," mama answered drily. "you were too quiet. what's going on here?"

the five of them exchanged glances, before peanut jumped up on the counter and exclaimed, "happy mother's day!"

mama blinked, finally noticing the breakfast that they were all trying to set up.

"happy mother's day!" her brothers repeated, hugging mama quickly.

"we're only here because mat doesn't know how to make those strawberry roses you love and he was freaking out," jack told her.

mat opened his mouth to protest, but luke pointed in jack's direction, "yeah, you should've heard the phone call. it was so funny."

"okay, you guys can leave now," mat muttered, shoving the three boys out of the kitchen.

the boys laughed, saying goodbye to mama and peanut as they headed out.

"you called them to make the strawberry roses?" mama asked mat, unable to help the smile on her face.

mat groaned, burying his face in his hands. "i was not freaking out."

"yes you were," peanut's voice sounded from the counter.

mama and mat looks over to see her digging her face into a waffle, half-paying attention to their conversation.

mat gave her a look, "if i remember correctly, you were the one who almost cried because you couldn't reach the chocolate chips and mama loves chocolate chips... there were four adults with you who could reach them."

"you remember wrong," peanut shot back.

mat blinked, shaking his head to himself. "this is not how i expected my sunday to go."

mama laughed, "well, it's not how i expected mine to go either."

mat made an offended noise, pulling mama close, "what do you mean? you think we'd forget mother's day?"

"no," mama shook her head, "i forgot it was mother's day."

mat watched as peanut drizzled an unhealthy amount of syrup on her next waffle, before mama reached over and plucked a piece. p pouted, but mama just grinned toothily, causing peanut to laugh.

he smiled fondly, pressing a kiss to the top of mama's head, "happy mother's day, mama."

-

tags : @woodruff-edwards , @austinbutlerscaresme ,  @svechnikovvv ,  @hockeyboysarehot , @emptyflowerpots ,  @mysticaldonkey , @lam-ila ,  @babydollmarauders , @starjoyyy  ,  @kjohnson-91 , @gavinbrindley, @hischierdevils , @jackhughesily  , @panarin10 ,  @equallyshaw ,   @power2myheart  ,  @lynnismypseudonym , @beccaiscold , @akengii , @nowandkei , @cinnamonpancakes , @mitchymainer , @lifeofpriya ,  @marshmallow-babe, @hughesx3 ,  @emsully2002  ,  @starsandhughes , @huggy-hischier73 ,  @doglady5678 , @thatoneblog , @exonct07 @hughesmedicine , @qwanelledingele , @mindless-rock , @ireadthensuetheauthors , @huggy-hischier94, @slaythehousedownboots , @diary-of-jj

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tags: @deviltsunoda , @hughesmedicine , @maddie-naps , @h0e4fictionalme-n , @redpool , @whenmypartysover , @trevzeags11 , @fulla02 , @alwayshughes , @julieluvsme , @puckmaidens , @sosweetsofinesonice , @softboystarkey

join peanut's world! au taglist!

[inafieldofdaisies]

WIP Wednesday | Tagged by @madparadoxum and @thesingularityseries ❤️

Stopping by this midweek with a little bit from Sabrina and John's morning from Chapter 2 of their AU, I will try to get back to the main WIP soon, but a monster of a dialogue has been making me procrastinate. Also, something I thought would be fun: if you have any suggestions of wild things (misfortunes) you'd like to see happening to John (take part in making him go through it), you can drop them as an ask (short prompt), I suspect it would be a fun challenge to tackle.

"I wanted to hear your voice." John's words from the previous night haunted Sabrina's thoughts while she prepared breakfast. She found herself unable to shake off the feeling of familiarity from the moment she found him standing in the foyer of the precinct, looking like he was about to snap at poor Lenny. "Morning.", Savannah greeted as she entered the kitchen, her nose scrunching up, "Is something burning, Rin-Rin?" The question prompted Sabrina to flip the last pancake she was working on, finding the bottom darkened. Wonderful. The last thing she needed was to be distracted, especially by someone that was passing through. And a lawyer. "Did you sleep well, Pumpkin?", she asked as she placed her sister's plate in front of her. Savannah nodded, "I wish I didn't have to wake up so early." "And so do so many adults." "Mommy asked about you.", her sister said in between bites, making Sabrina's smile drop for a second, which thankfully was conceived by her coffee mug she took a sip from at that moment. "Like what?" "If you have a boyfriend. And about uncle Les. She said she saw a picture he had posted…" Jesus. Maybe mind your own love life, Candice. And leave the lack of mine alone.

She could sense her sister's mood soaring after each short visit with Candice, and it hadn't taken long to figure out why. Their mother had become an expert at fishing for information from Savannah since her eldest daughter refused to entertain her poor attempts at "bonding", knowing full well any interest shown wasn't paired with the best intentions. She wasn't going to be shocked if Candice Donovan's intent was to introduce her to some raising entrepreneur, so she felt like she needed to figure out if Leslie would be standing in the way of tricking her into helping with her latest grift. It wouldn't have been like she hadn't tried it before, gone as far as to arrange a date for Sabrina, only for her to figure out what was going on halfway through the dinner. Nothing like having a daughter in law enforcement to make your target feel secure enough and open for any business advice his lawyer would throw his way, let her hold the purse strings. "I will talk to her, Sav. She promised me she won't ask you stuff like that." Sabrina took a final sip of coffee, "How about you watch something and finish breakfast while I go shower?" "Okay. Are we still going to the fair with uncle Les?" "Of course, he hasn't been able to stop talking about it. I think he's more excited than you even." Savannah's frown dissipated at the confirmation, a grin taking over her freckled face, "He promised to win me a big plushie." "He absolutely will.", Sabrina retorted and matched smile, feeling glad she had someone in her life she could actually depend on.

As she left the kitchen and found herself alone in the bathroom, stripping off her T-shirt and shorts, her mind drifted back to the night before. How she'd flown out of the shower and grabbed her phone, hoping she was about to hear back from the lab about her current missing persons case. Instead, John Duncan's voice had came through, perplexing her to an extend she hadn't even bothered to inquire how he'd gotten her number. His excuse for the late call had given her a pause, the real intent behind it revealing itself the moment he had made a comment about his state of undress, asked for her personal number. A part of her made sure to assure her how he'd been so quick to reach her he hadn't even wasted time putting on underwear, confirming she clearly wasn't the only one feeling this strange drawn between them. "He wants you. So much he become a rambling mess the second you casually mentioned whoever he asked for his hotel information.", the foolish side argued. "Sure.", she muttered under her breath, "Romantic much? Trying to turn a woman he just met into his midnight bootycall…" Sabrina shampooed her hair, then moved onto washing her body, completely ignoring the irksome longing within her, the same one she refused to entertain from the second their video call had ended. The desire in his deep blue eyes, his questions, all made his expectations clear as day.

It was unfortunate for him she had more important things that required her full attention. A missing girl to be located and brought home safely. A baby sister to take care of. A trainwreck of a mother to keep at bay. Numerous visions to figure out and could save people's lives. A faceless man that awaited her in so many of them and clutched her heart in his tattooed hands. John Duncan wasn't him. He was bored, slightly entitled, looking for an outlet, for someone to get him off after having a day from hell. It was what she reminded herself as she came into her bedroom to find a new message waiting for her, from a number she hadn't even bothered to save into her contacts.

Good morning. No crimes or accidents to report so far, though, it does feel slightly criminal how you've been occupying my thoughts since last night.

John stared down at the message he had finally hit sent on after typing and deleting versions of it so many times, he had felt close to hurling his phone at the nearest wall. "Occupying his thoughts" seemed like an understatement the second he'd woken up from a dream involving Sabrina that had come off as way too real. He threw the covers off himself with a sigh and left his phone on the bed before he made his way over to the bathroom. "It's morning. It's a normal body reaction. Nothing to do with her.", he said to his reflection, "Get your head back in the game. You're meeting Mooney. Who cares she didn't respond?" Reluctantly he opened the door, leading into the shower, and turned the knobs after a silent prayer for his morning to start off without a hitch. Or at least he attempted to. Until one of them came off into his hand. "No fucking way. NO.", he practically shouted out, not giving a damn about the early hour and how his voice echoed around the room while he stared down at the chrome piece clasped between his fingers in complete disbelief.

A growl left him as he threw it on the ground and turned on his heel, the glass door rattling when he slammed it shut and exited the shower stall. "I'm not taking another arctic shower. I don't care how much you want to take care of my goddamned boner.", he had no doubt the shower would be freezing, because the knob that had fallen off, was for no other than the hot water. He didn't care about the neighboring rooms and what the other guests might have been thinking after screaming the last part on top of his lungs. Not in that moment. Not when he was close to breaking something else in the bathroom as desperation to find a way to release the pent-up frustration brewing inside him settled in. "One accident to report, Detective. And I also hate your city so much.", John whispered before taking a deep breath. As he brushed his teeth he did his best to school his features back into a serene expression, refusing to let the facade of the well-adjusted, charmant attorney to slip. He put the boxers from the day before on, hating the fact he didn't even have a change of underwear and promising himself he'd go shopping for new clothes and other necessities as soon as his meeting had wrapped up. Another frown was aimed at his reflection when he remembered he had no means to even style his hair properly, that all he could do was freshen up in the goddamned sink. He dragged himself back to the bed, sinking down on it as he contemplated how excited he was when he had received the case, yet from that day like domino everything had decided to fall apart in some way.

"At least the guy didn't steal my files. Doubt Clive would appreciate any of that information leaking out.", he reminded himself as clasped his watch back on his wrist, "So what if one of my favorite suits was in that suitcase?" The thought made him reach out for his phone in hope the detective that was going to look into his case had reached out already. He ignored all the unread messages and emails he was yet to go through, opening the text that sat as most recent notification.

Sabrina: Good luck.

Two simple words was all she had to offer him. No "I thought of you too" in sight. "Could be worse. Like her blocking my number.", he uttered out finally, deciding that the fact she had even responded was a good sign, better than simply leaving him on read now that he was another Detective's problem. Just then his phone pinged with a new message. Unknown number. His thumb acted before he could think better of it, and he regretted the decision immediately. A photo. Penny showing off a red lacy number as she cupped her breast with her free hand. Face in full view, a proud gleam in her blue eyes. A pose she had most definitely deemed alluring enough to make him crack.

Wrong number.

He texted, scowling at the realization Penny was getting bolder, crossing a line, using her personal number to pester him. Her reply followed way too fast.

Penny: Come on, John. We both know it's not. How long are you going to play hard to get, baby?

John: I will be contacting HR if this reoccurs.

Penny: You're no fun, Mr. Duncan. You're headed for your meeting, right? Good luck.

John: I'm serious. NO MORE lingerie pictures or passes at work.

Penny was good at her job, better than any of his previous assistants, but it wasn't enough for him to continue tolerating her advances in hopes she'd take the hint and cease with her attempts to get him into bed. He was one to bent the rules, but bending over someone that he worked with was where he drew the line. Reality was that one night of "fun" (mostly for her, because for him it would end up as usual: in self-loathing) would blow up in his face sooner or later.

Another buzz signaled a new message, but instead of the expected complaint from Penny, the reply made him almost drop his phone as he realized his mistake. That he'd texted in the wrong conversation.

Sabrina: John? Sabrina: I'm just going to assume you meant to send this to somebody else.

"I'm done with technology. So done.", he groaned out and chucked his phone across the bed, the pillows softening its landing against the headboard.

John: NO MORE lingerie pictures or passes at work.

More? Initially she had tried to laugh off the text, then unwanted bitterness had set in. If Sabrina needed any proof about the kind of man John was, just based on her intuition and past experiences alone, the words he accidentally sent her minutes prior only confirmed it further. "Bye, Rin-Rin.", Savannah exclaimed and leaned over the console to give her a hug as the her truck came to a stop in front of her elementary school. "Have fun.", Sabrina retorted and placed a quick kiss on her forehead before her sister was scrambling out of the vehicle and rushing over to her best friend, Brandy, that was waiting for her outfront. The blonde girl gave her an enthusiastic wave before the two ran inside the building and she put her Bronco back into drive, heading down her favorite route to the precinct. Her eyes drank in the early runners, people on their way to work, parents walking hand in hand with their children. She had grown to love Portland. The life she and Savannah had built there. The fact that Candice seemed to avoid it like the plague most of the time was an added bonus.

Minutes later she pulled into her regular parking spot, locking the car doors before shouldering her bag and shoving her hands in the pockets of her jacket to avoid the chill that hung in the morning air. She quickly crossed the street and pushed her way inside the building, muttering a quick hello to Simon, an officer that was in his last year before retirement and usually worked the day shift at the welcome desk. "Rina, always on time.", he retorted with a smile as she set for the elevator, memories of John following her down the same path threating to emerge. The hallways were mostly empty, signaling she was among the first people to arrive as per usual. "Ollie. Did you sleep here?", her sights settled on Oliver who was slumped over his desk, head full of messy blond hair resting in the crook of his arm, green eyes shifting to the door as she entered before he shut them again. His voice was sleepy, muffled against his shirt, "I'm just trying to one-up you, Rina." Sabrina let out a laugh and nudged him on the back on her way to her own desk, "Want a coffee?" "Did that well-dress fucker yesterday had the hots for you? Hell yes." She could only shake her head at his blunt observation, feeling glad Leslie hadn't arrived yet, "Oliver. We're not talking about him. Am I clear?" "Why not?", he inquired with way too much interest, his Detective senses kicking in despite his sleepiness.

She ignored the question and felt his gaze on her back while she watched the coffee machine like a hawl. "Uh-oh, there's definitely something there." "No.", she placed his the mug in front of him and sent him a look of warning, "And don't be starting any rumours, you hear?" "Too late.", his cheeky smile screamed nothing but bad news. From the team, Oliver McKenzie was the one closest to her age, and unarguably the most daredevilish, and she had quickly learned to read the signs of incoming trouble in his expression. "What did you do, Oliver?" The silence from his side put her on edge as she lowered into her chair and rubbed away at her temples before she let out a groan, "How bad is it?" "Eh.", was all he granted her as explanation. "God, Ollie.", she mimicked his earlier position just as the door to their division swung open and footsteps carried in her direction. A paper sack crinkled when it was set down on her desk, making her look up, eyes stopping on Stockton who had taken one of the seats across her. "A little 'thank you' for yesterday, Rina.", he gestured to the brown bag, bearing the logo of her favorite bakery, "Croissant, salted caramel and chocolate. Got you a coffee to-go, too. The one y'all have here is shit." "Aye, Maxwell, if it's shit, why not get one for me, too?", Oliver teased. Arguing for sport with Maxwell Stockton was one of his favorite activities and he'd oftentimes stop by "Robbery" just for that reason alone. Yet deep down, the two were close friends from their academy days and would often grab drinks on Fridays.

Stockton's dark eyes shot up to Oliver for a second before returning to hers, his hand rubbed at his cleanshaven cheek, "So, what should I expect from this guy?" "Meaning?", Sabrina asked before tearing into her croissant, "Like if he's difficult to deal with?" Oliver snorted in responce, while the darkhaired man in front of her nodded. "He was polite.", she paused, "But he's also a defense attorney." A whistle, "Oof. And he was fine with you takin' the report?" "It's not like we're going to trial now, are we?", a chuckle left her, "He wants his stuff found, that's all." "How the fuck can he get his suitcase stolen like that?", Oliver interrupted, "Like I heard his story, but damn, I tried so hard not to laugh." "Ollie." "What, Rina? Tell me it wasn't funny. Hell, imagine going to meet a client and not having even a clean pair of undies." Stockton laughed at that, pointing back at Oliver, "Is it true what this one said, he 'looks like Leslie, but shorter'?" "Maxie, when have I lied to you?" "Only the last time we played cards, asshole." Oliver blew him a kiss before he took a sip of his coffee. "Well?", Stockton pushed for an answer, "Leslie look-a-like or nah?" Sabrina chewed on the bite of her pastry slowly, images from the video call invading her mind, "Absolutely not." "Now that's a lie, Rina.", Oliver argued and spun around in his chair to regard them both, "Not only does he look like Leslie, but he also wants in her pants as much. Probably."

"You're lucky I love this croissant, or it'd be flying at your head, Oliver." He stuck his tongue out, "Love ya, too." The door opening cut out his laughter, "Speaking of the taller Devil." "Morning, guys.", Leslie Parish muttered in a greeting and walked over to the desk next to hers and dropped off his things. The strange expression on his face gave her a pause and prompted Stockton to clear his throat before he rose up to leave. "I will get going, better start looking into the case. Recover our lawyer friend's luggage back." On his way out saluted Leslie, then patted Oliver on the back, "Later, folks." "The lawyer?", Leslie started, peeling off his coat and placing it over the back of his chair. Sabrina shook her head, "He's not our problem." He strode over, taking a seat at the edge of her desk as he stole the final bite of her croissant, "Not from what Ollie told me." "How many people did you tell, Oliver?" Oliver shrugged, hiding his face behind one of the files he had open on his desk, "I plead the fifth." The eyebrow Leslie quirked told her everything she needed to know before he even elaborated, "Oliver was straight up updating us all live in your Birthday group chat." "Unbelievable. And here I thought you were working hard, McKenzie." A wink was sent her way, "You're underestimating me. I can absolutely multitask, Donovan." "So, back to this guy…", Leslie's blue eyes searched hers. "Later." A nod, "Deal. I'm taking you out for lunch, you can tell me all about him then." Oliver spun around with a victorious smirk, "See, I knew there was something. He asked you out, didn't he?" Sabrina turned to her computer monitor, logging in and pulling up the CCTV footage she had spent half of the previous day combing through, "I plead the fifth, too."

Tagging, @adelaidedrubman @socially-awkward-skeleton @aceghosts @poisonedtruth @chazz-anova @strafethesesinners @strangefable @trench-rot @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @g0dspeeed @direwombat @voidika @theelderhazelnut @v0idbuggy @euryalex @florbelles @corvosattano @purplehairsecretlair @dumbassdep @cassietrn @simplegenius042 @jillvalentinesday @nightbloodbix and anyone with something to share <3