#and nothing is enjoyable I don’t want to do anything but fucking sleep forever

[doctor-wombat]

.

[chuuuvi]

Alright I’ve avoided saying anything about the new Taylor album but I think I’ve spent enough time thinking about it now to give my opinion. As a lifelong fan of her music TTPD has been the weirdest experience of any album of hers for me.

First listen was just basic front to back while doing some nonograms and my immediate thought was that this is the worst thing she’s ever released. Like I for real had to take a break to go listen to some 1989 to double check that I don’t just dislike her music as a whole now. (False alarm 1989 is still one of my favorite albums of all time). I spent some time trying to figure out what wasn’t working for me. Most obvious was that the songs feel really dull and samey? They aren’t fun pop songs but they also aren’t the beautiful folksy ballads of folklore/evermore. They felt like they went on forever but also didn’t go anywhere.

All that to say that I was really fucking bored. Thats not enough to make me give up on an album though. I made that mistake with folklore and I wasn’t about to do it again. (I found folklore kind of dull at first listen and just wrote it off as “not for me” before coming back months later and finding a real appreciation for it) What was more concerning is the writing though. I had already seen people joking about the lyrics on this album before I listened and yeah it’s not great. It feels at times like someone doing a parody of Taylor Swift’s writing style. Some of these lyrics are undeniably cringe and thats coming from someone who can withstand a lot of cringe. It’s truly bizarre to listen to because I do think she’s a talented songwriter and she has proved that in past projects but it rarely shines through here.

I was feeling really negative about this album and overall just kind of bummed out that we got a new album from literally my most listened to artist of all time and I didn’t enjoy it with the exception of like 3 songs: Down Bad, Clara Bow, and, the immediate standout for me, I Look In People’s Windows. Heres where things take a turn though. I get a call from my dad (shout out to him! He’s the best ever and I love him) and he was telling me that he listened to the album and wanted to share our thoughts. In case you’re interested his favorites are Fortnight and So High School. I felt kind of bad because I wanted to be excited but I couldn’t give him more than lukewarm opinions on anything.

He then asked me if I could explain to him what certain songs were about with my swiftie knowledge and that kind of perked me up because I realized that I hadn’t done an in depth look into the lyrics yet. I had only listened to it very passively. I basically told him that and said I’d get on it and I could answer any questions he had the next time he called. So with that I went headfirst into listen number 2! I was ready to go with genius lyrics open, taking notes, checking twitter and tumblr and googling stuff. I built a case for my interpretation of every song to present to my dad. And the thing is I was having an absolute blast. It was a complete turnaround from my depressing first listen. I felt like a detective and I spent almost all night on this. I went to work the next day on like 4 hours of sleep but I felt nothing but pure joy and excitement.

I had to ask myself though.. is this a good way to engage with music? Is it possible to say you enjoyed a piece of art if you can only find that enjoyment through picking apart the personal life of the artist? The fun I’m getting from this isn’t the fun I feel when listening to good music it’s the fun I feel from watching reality tv. I mean yes I also have felt the same satisfaction from other Taylor Swift albums but it’s a secondary feeling. Like for example my favorite song of hers is All Too Well 10 Minute Version. I think that song being autobiographical gives it a lot of power but I think it would still be a masterpiece if the whole story was entirely unrelated to Taylor’s real personal life. On the other hand I think most of the songs The Tortured Poets Department would be entirely uninteresting to me if it wasn’t for the clues into her personal life and feelings.

And that brings us to my subsequent listens. This has just been me listening to it in my regular life. In the car, at work when I was away from the counter doing some pricing, at home doing laundry, etc. I haven’t been able to feel the joy I felt during my deep dive into the lyrics again but I also haven’t felt the misery of my first listen either. Theres still more skips than the average TS album but a lot of the songs have grown on me especially after going in depth into the lyrics. The cringe lyrics are immediately obvious but after going line by line like I did I realized that theres still plenty of lyrics that feel like the old Taylor Swift I’ve loved for so long. After all the emotional ups and downs I’ve landed at a fairly neutral position. It’s not a very good album as a whole but I’ve made my peace with that. It’s not as bad as some people are saying it is either. In the end I’m moving my favorites to a playlist and the rest I will not be going out of my way to listen to again. If you are considering listening to TTPD and haven’t yet.. you would probably have a better time with one of her other albums instead. I’d recommend 1989!

[contemplativepancakes]

let me just ease your mind

sharing something vulnerable for @whataboutthebard

Lambert/Jaskier, E

“If I tell you, you have to promise not to laugh at me,” Jaskier says, his hand on Lambert’s bare chest.

Lambert raises an eyebrow at him. “When have I ever laughed at you?”

“Every single day, you brute!”

Lambert mouths at Jaskier’s neck, his breath hot against Jaskier’s face. “I’ll attempt to contain myself. No promises.”

Jaskier fixes him with a glare, and Lambert sighs. “All right, I promise. Happy?”

Jaskier grumbles. “Not particularly.”

Lambert raises his eyebrows expectantly, and Jaskier looks down, tugging at the bed spread instead of making eye contact. A blush colors his face.

“I’ve…never slept with a man before.”

A flurry of emotions crosses Lambert’s face, settling on something soft. Jaskier shoves him in the chest. “Don’t look at me like that!”

Lambert carefully fixes his gaze into something more akin to a leer before he grins. “Better?”

“This was a terrible idea. I should have just strung you along forever. What was I thinking, inviting you into my bed?”

“We don’t have to do anything,” Lambert says cautiously.

“I want to.”

“Okay, okay,” Lambert placates as Jaskier crosses his arms. “What do you want to do?”

Jaskier buries his face into his hands. “Melting into the floor sounds nice right about now.”

Lambert carefully tugs his hands away, making Jaskier look at him. “Hey, I’m not going to be a dick about this, okay? I’ll make it good for you.”

He kisses Jaskier’s temple, before moving down to his neck, and across his chest, stopping to play with his nipples and run his fingers through his coarse chest hair. Jaskier lays back and spreads his legs, letting Lambert take the lead. Lambert moves to the end of the bed, where he kisses the crease of Jaskier’s thigh. His fingers trail over the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs, and he has to stop his legs from trembling at the tenderness of it all. “Touch me,” Jaskier pleads.

Lambert gives him a grin that makes Jaskier think he’s in for a very long night. He looks at Jaskier’s swelling cock, starting to stand up from his belly. Putting a hand on his chin, he says, “Hmm. Not yet, I don’t think.”

He continues his torment of Jaskier, touching him absolutely everywhere except his cock. His fingers brush the shells of Jaskier’s ears, and Jaskier keens in frustration. “Aren’t you always telling me to be more patient?” Lambert wonders aloud.

“Do as I say, not as I do,” Jaskier says, before he can’t take it any longer, and he hauls Lambert by the shoulders up to him so he can kiss him.

Jaskier jams their mouths together, but Lambert puts a hand on his chest, making him lean back until he can barely reach Lambert’s lips and slow down. The kiss becomes tender. Jaskier squirms on the bed, trying to rut up against Lambert to find any sort of friction he can. As soon as he rubs his hard cock against him, Lambert immediately backs up.

“Lambert!” he protests.

“Told you I was going to make it good,” Lambert murmurs.

“And so you’re planning on teasing me endlessly?”

Lambert shrugs, a devious expression on his face. “I’m having fun; aren’t you?” Lambert sobers for a moment. “Do you want to fuck me, or do you want to get fucked? Or whatever, we can do something else, too.”

Jaskier pauses to think. “You’d let me do that to you?”

Lambert squints at him. “Yes? It feels good. I’m not particular.”

Jaskier gives him a disbelieving look.

“About this,” he amends, laughing as Jaskier’s sure he thinks about all the things he’s very particular about.

While the idea of having Lambert all spread out in front of him and panting is certainly appealing, he also doesn’t want to mess this up. People tend to think he’s so much more experienced than he really is, and it’s led to many misunderstandings throughout the years. Besides, there’s no guarantees they’ll sleep together again after this, and if anyone is going to enter him for the first time…having it be Lambert might not be so bad. Enjoyable, even, if the tales he’s heard are to be believed.

“Fuck me,” Jaskier decides. “And touch my fucking prick!”

Lambert ghosts a teasing touch over his cock, and Jaskier lifts his hips, chasing after it. It doesn’t help since Lambert gets up from the bed, Jaskier makes a displeased noise at the loss of his weight and heat. He digs through his bag until he finds a jar of something. “Made it myself,” he preens. “With seaweed.”

Jaskier wrinkles his nose. “I’m sure it’s delightful.”

“Hey, I see that face! This is the best quality stuff you’re going to find.” Lambert sighs wistfully. “Fucking carrageenan, man.”

“I see you’ve been hanging about with your sorceress too much again.”

“After tonight, you’ll be begging me to go meet her so you can thank her yourself, trust me.”

Jaskier hums, unconvinced, but his tune quickly changes after Lambert strokes Jaskier’s cock using it, his hand unimpeded as it glides up and down the shaft. Jaskier’s cock is red and weeping by now, but Lambert still doesn’t take pity on him, pulling his hand away after the few tugs.

“Do you want to do it on your stomach or back?”

Jaskier thinks about it for a second. “My back.”

He doesn’t want to say as much, but he does think the experience will be enhanced if he’s able to see Lambert during it. His muscles look good while he’s clothed, and they’re doubly enchanting now. Jaskier drifts a finger across one of Lambert’s scars. Lambert glances down as he manhandles Jaskier into the position he wants him in, tugging him to the edge of the bed while he stands in front of him. “That one’s from a harpy, I think,” he says.

“A harpy got the better of you?” Jaskier asks in mock disbelief.

“Shut up. It happens.”

The lines around Lambert’s eyes crinkle, and Jaskier can’t help but return the smile. Lambert bends Jaskier’s leg, leaning down to kiss the delicate skin of his ankle and licking it a little just to be an ass because he’s Lambert, before situating himself in between Jaskier’s legs. He puts more of his slick on his fingers, before he circles them around Jaskier’s hole. Jaskier looks down in fascination as two of Lambert’s fingers breech him. Rotating his hand, Lambert looks at Jaskier to make sure nothing hurts, and Jaskier nods at him eagerly, just an odd sensation of something foreign being inside of him. Nothing mind blowing yet, but so far, so good. Lambert soothes his hand down Jaskier’s flank. “Gentle, remember?”

Jaskier scowls at him as Lambert pulls his fingers back out, spreading more slick on them before he introduces a third finger. He wiggles them inside Jaskier, crooking them about as he presumably looks for the little bundle of nerves that Jaskier’s heard so much about. There’s a sense of cognitive dissonance as he looks down at where Lambert’s fingers disappear into him, but he gasps when Lambert presses up against the spot he was looking for. “Right there,” Jaskier tells him, and Lambert rubs him relentlessly, making Jaskier moan and light up from the inside out.

His cock throbs. He reaches down to touch it halfheartedly, but Lambert slaps his hand away, as he expected. “Touch me, please,” he begs.

Lambert relents with another teasing touch, just dragging the fingers not currently inside Jaskier up his shaft before pulling at the foreskin a bit. Lambert keeps this up until Jaskier is a boneless, panting, mess. “Just fuck me,” Jaskier cries.

“I’m going to finger you for another minute, just for that.”

Jaskier throws his head back against the pillow and shuts his eyes, trying to keep his overwhelming arousal from crashing over him. Finally, blessedly, Lambert pulls out his fingers. He lines up his cock with Jaskier’s hole, pressing the head in. He scoots Jaskier up on the bed so he can bracket his arms around Jaskier as he pushes in farther, waiting for Jaskier to adjust with each bit.

Their faces are close to each other, and Jaskier can’t help but pull Lambert into a sloppy kiss as the blunt sensation of fullness settles in his gut once Lambert’s all the way sheathed inside of him. “Okay?” Lambert asks, and Jaskier nods. He’s a little amazed that it doesn’t hurt. There was only a slight burn as Lambert first entered him, then the overwhelming feeling of knowing that Lambert’s cock was inside of him.

Lambert buries his face in Jaskier’s neck, sniffing at him as witches are wont to do, while he shallowly thrusts his hips, his cock rubbing against the walls of Jaskier’s hole maddeningly. After a few minutes of this, Jaskier is blubbering from the sensation of exactly what he wants being so close but out of reach. His hands come up to grip at Lambert’s thighs, urging him to go faster.

Melitele smiles down at him when Lambert finally repositions himself so he has better leverage, starting to slam inside him. Jaskier shuts his eyes and listens to the slap of their skin echo in the room, crying out whenever Lambert gets a particularly good thrust past his prostate. Lambert reaches down between them to take Jaskier’s aching cock in hand, stroking him quickly. He twists his hand as he does, sometimes reaching down to brush his thumb over Jaskier’s sack and fondle it. Jaskier nearly bites through his lip at the stimulation of it all.

It’s a pathetically short amount of time after that when Jaskier spills, shouting Lambert’s name and squeezing his hand around Lambert’s wrist. Lambert slows his thrusts and strokes Jaskier through it, until Jaskier pushes his hand away.

Lambert pulls out of him before Jaskier can protest, leaving his hole clenching around nothing and bereft as it begins to tighten again. Lambert jacks his cock quickly, Jaskier tracking the microexpressions that flit across his face as he brings himself his own pleasure until he comes, spurting onto Jaskier’s crotch and stomach. Jaskier gives him a put upon sigh at the mess, but he’s not sure how convincing it is when he’s so tired he can barely do anything but lay there.

Lambert grins at him and tugs at his hair before he retreats to grab something off the floor that Jaskier recognizes as his doublet. “Hey!” he protests, but it doesn’t stop Lambert from cleaning them up with it.

“You’re buying me a new shirt,” Jaskier says.

Lambert hums. “I’ll wash this one for you. Maybe. If you’re lucky.”

Jaskier throws an arm over his eyes. “You’re so cruel to me.”

He keeps his arm there until Lambert prods him in the side.

“How was that?” Lambert asks. “World shaking?”

Jaskier looks up at him, brushing his fingers through Lambert’s bristly hair and making him flush. “It was everything I wanted.”

[narrators-journal]

Could I request a BSD lovecraft x short(4”11) female reader

Soulmate au

Fluff to smut plz

And could lovecraft use his ability in the smut part?

It's not exactly what you asked for, but I hope it's still enjoyable! It was a fun bit of a challenge for me, I enjoyed it. Also, thanks for sending in an ask for this, I appreciate you humoring my weirdness <3

CW: Tentacles, size difference, technically teratophilia

Tagged: @ravenina14

Checking the clock, you saw that it was nearly morning, sighing heavily at that fact. Part of you wanted to say fuck it and go through until the next night, but your stomach twisted and coiled like a spring about to pop, you were far too high strung from a mixture of energy drinks and stress to sleep at the moment. So, with a sigh, you ran a (s/c) hand through your (h/l), (h/c) hair and sat back in your desk chair.

For a moment, you just sat there in your room, thinking about all of the weirdness in your life instead of all of the college work you still had to do. First, you'd lived since the age of eighteen with the name 'Howard P. Lovecraft' stamped across your lower back, a soul mate mark, meaning that was the name of your forever partner. Second, the man assigned that odd name was equally odd. So, fate had assigned you to a man that you were pretty sure wasn't quite human, or at least he had a very out there ability, to spend your life with. Finally, you'd met said man when you saw him walk out of the ocean one day as you went to the store. Not exactly your usual meet-cute.

That wasn't to say your soul mate wasn't attractive, though. He had that same sort of charm one might find from Illumi Zoldyck, with long, wavy black hair, tired, dark eyes like the darkest parts of the ocean, and pale skin, he also could look a lot like the anime character. Though Lovecraft was likely taller than him, and a little more oblivious. Either way, he was cute, in an awkward way, so you weren't upset to have him as a partner, just amused by the oddity of the situation. In fact, remembering him had brought a good idea to your head.

So with that, you pushed yourself up from your chair to stretch before heading out to the living room, where Lovecraft laid on your couch like a corpse in a casket, watching the television in a stiff mimicry of what you showed him when teaching him how to relax there when the two of you had first begun to settle into your new normal.          "Lovecraft," you said, getting a mixture of a groan and a hum from the low energy man, "I need cuddles," Without a word, he lifted his lanky arms and let you flop onto his chest before laying his limbs back as they were, barely looking up from the ocean documentary on the television. Either way, the simple affection made you sigh as your tense body soaked up the comfort. However, the cuddles and the sounds of the documentary didn't seem to quite reach that knot of tension in your soul, much to your annoyance.

After a few attempts to get comfortable in your lanky boyfriend's arms on the couch, attempting to find the best possible position for comfort, you sighed, brushing your bangs from your face and just blandly watching what was on the television in defeat,           "Are you okay, (y/n)?" Lovecraft asked, turning his dark eyes to you at last, seeming to read your body language in a single, barely-blinking look since he began rubbing small circles into your back like you'd done to him a few times when he was grumpy after working with the Guild. And while you appreciated the gesture, it did little to help you relax as much as you needed.           "I'm a bit stressed out from college, but I can't seem to unwind enough to sleep." You admitted, dropping your head onto his shoulder sadly.          "I'm sorry about that," he muttered, his deadpan voice doing nothing to convince you that he was honest, which he likely wasn't, but you'd gotten used to his aloof manner, "Maybe you could take a bath? Those are said to be relaxing." he offered, but you simply skewed your mouth to the side at the idea. It wasn't like the idea was really off-putting, you just didn't want to get up and go through all that work. Though, it did give you an idea.

Turning your (e/c) eyes up to the pale, dark-haired man you called your soulmate, moving so you straddled him and tried to project as much seductive charm as your little body could produce,          "Y'know, there's another way to destress that I could try~" as you spoke, making your best bedroom eyes at the oblivious man, you toyed with the collar of his shirt. When he didn't take the hint, you gave him a swift kiss, swiftly moving your kisses from his mouth down to his neck, which seemed to clarify your meaning to the pale man.

He put a hand on your shoulder to stop you, encouraging you to sit up,            "I thought copulation was for breeding, and you didn't want a child." Copulation. You sometimes wanted to smack your soulmate with a book. But, you refrained, simply snorting instead,            "No, Lovecraft, sex can be for fun as well." You assured, "just don't cum inside me and no children shall be created." He hummed at your words, but you took the chance to slip your hands under his shirt, trying to maybe convince him to help you out, but he once again stopped your advances,            "While I wouldn't mind having fun, I'd prefer to not lose my clothing." He hummed, earning another huffy expression from you, but you sighed again, your expression of slight annoyance softening,           "Do you just not want to do anything? You can say so," You watched Lovecraft contemplate your question, then replied in his low energy, low voice,           "No, I don't mind having...sex," he tried, making you smile at the way he seemed to learn from you, "I just do not want to strip,"

After that, you laid back against him, contemplating what to do. Sex was likely the best way to exhaust yourself and relax in a timely manner, but Lovecraft kind of needed to be at least somewhat naked for that to happen. After a moment of thinking, you came upon a compromise, a coy smile returning to your (s/c) face as you turned back to Lovecraft with the biggest, most pleading doe eyes you could manage,         "Lovecraft," he simply hummed in response, "can you do that...thing you did a while back, partially activate your power or whatever you do?" He once again looked down at you, his dark eyes seeming to almost absorb the flickering light of the television, adding a small bit of sparkle to the deep sea color of them.

While he thought, you admired his eyes, coming back to reality when he spoke again,         "That is a creative solution," he admitted, his arms still loosely draped around you while you smiled,         "So will you help me?" He gave a careful nod, turning a bit pink it seemed, though you couldn't confirm in the darkness of the living room. Either way though, you took the compromise and pulled your clothes off, enjoying the way Lovecraft's dark eyes took in every inch of your (s/c) body as you stripped, staying in his lap as much as possible while you did. Then, you laid back on him and pressed your lips to his.

The dark-haired man still needed to perfect his kisses, but you didn't mind, the feeling of his altered arm coiling around your thigh, stroking the soft skin while you wriggled your hips and held the kiss until you needed air.

After that, you just laid on your partner's chest, raising your hips slightly so one of the thick tendrils could run along your entrance, sending a small ripple of electricity through you. The feeling increased when the appendage began to explore a bit, focusing its movements on the spots that got the most mewls and shudders out of you. Lovecraft might've been a bit oblivious to humanoid activities, but he sure did learn quickly.

Thankfully though, he didn't abuse that knew knowledge. He toyed with you, caressing your thigh and stroking you only until you were properly riled up into a panting mess of soft moans. Once you were gripping his shirt like you might burn up if you let go, he took the hint and gently pushed a tentacle into you.

The feeling of being full made you moan loudly, pushing yourself back onto him to drive him deeper to hit that sweet spot within you. He let you fuck yourself on him, watching you moan and mewl whenever he managed to hit those special spots.

Already, you were getting weak, each thrust of the tentacle sending a wave of heat through your body, clouding your mind with lust. The feeling increased when you felt a second appendage slither beneath you to grope at your breasts, another slipping between your slick-covered thighs to once again toy with that sensitive bundle of nerves that made you gasp and claw into his shirt tighter.

With so much attention to your sensitive areas, your body felt like it was on fire. Pleasure burned through your veins, turning your body to jelly. All the while, a bubble built in your stomach, increasing with each fresh wave of euphoria sent through you when Lovecraft hit your g-spot. Each wave continued to make you moan and hum lost in the tide of it until that bubble in your stomach finally burst, making you bury your face in your soulmate's neck as you came.

After that, the lightning bolts of pleasure ebbed, leaving your legs as stable as spaghetti noodles that gave out almost the moment Lovecraft retracted his tendrils. Without them, you let yourself turn into a puddle on his chest, quivering and completely satisfied after so long of working. So, without any other demands, you simply let your (e/c) eyes drift shut as grey light was beginning to seep in through the windows. It was a nice change of pace to fall asleep to the sounds of ocean documentaries as dawn approached.

[implexedactions]

My Little Ember - Enji Todoroki

Platonic!Yandere!Enji Todoroki

A/N: Okay, I’m late. I missed a lot of due dates. This isn’t even beta read. I’m sorry. I am so sorry. But here it is anyway!

This is Yandere content, and as such, one should be cautious of viewing this if you have certain triggers.

“Wake up, my little ember~ Did you have a good rest?”

 You blink your eyes open and look around. You are in “your” bedroom, a cruelly comforting place. A room in Enji’s giant mansion, covered in pastels and various kid-friendly entertainment. The nicest cage money could buy. 

 Enji’s hand rests on your shoulder. A warm presence on this otherwise cold day. Your eyes flicker up at the cyan ones looking compassionately down.

 “Uhh, yeah, it was fine, Enji…”

 Enji sighs and rubs his hand against your shoulder. 

 “I told you, kid, call me dad.”

 “But-”

 Enji raises a warm finger to your lips.

 “Come now, enough of that. I’ve let you sleep in long enough; it is already 7:30 am. I have been cooking breakfast in the kitchen for you.”

 You look away dejectedly.

 “I’m not hungry.” 

 “Hush, you need your breakfast if you want to grow big and strong like your old man!” 

 He promptly lifts you out of bed with just one arm, shoving you over his shoulder. You don’t fight back, instead just lying there, looking at the upside-down room. 

 Humming a tune, he carries you out of your bedroom, and into the empty mansion that you both share—pristine white walls and furniture, broken up with the odd child-proofed edge or photo-frame. 

 He abducted you four months ago and ever since seemed to be treating you as his child. Everyone who saw Endeavor knew he probably didn’t have a stellar home life, but this was absurd. 

 He walks down the stairs to the first floor, walking through a massive living room.

 “Enj-uhhh, dad?”

 Enji hummed with delight as he kept walking, you swaying up and down on his shoulder, getting slightly dizzy.

 “Yes, my little ember?”

 “Do you think I-uhh, we, could go outside today?”

 Enji stops in his tracks, his grip on you tightening and warming. Not noticeably, but enough. 

 “...Ember, I am not too sure if that is a wise decision.”

 Of course. It hadn’t worked the other 50 times you asked, why would it work now?! Why was it so hard for you to find ANY time away his watchful eye.

 “What a fucking surprise…”

 “Hey!”

 He pulls your now shaking form off his shoulder. One hand around your waist, one around your head as he brings you in front of him, hovering off the floor. His eyes are thin, a scowl on his face. You feel his hot breath coming from his nostrils. You have never been more scared in your life of this man.

 “Do not use that foul language, Y/N Todoroki. I will not tolerate it. Do not make me discipline you.”

 “I-uhhh, sorry…” you stammer out, avoiding his gaze. 

 His hand moves your head and forces your eyes to meet his disappointed ones.

 “I have raised you better than that, haven’t I? Apologise properly.”

 “Uhhh,,,Sorry, Father, that I, behaved inappropriately…” you say, staring into eyes that only villains are privy to.

 His face warms and he pulls you in for a hug. 

 “Apology accepted!”

 He places you down on the floor, but keeps your hand in a vice-like grip.

 “Now! We can’t leave those pancakes waiting, can we?”

 Enji  pulls you along, almost causing you to fall over a few times to keep up with his faster gait. He walks into the kitchen,and the smell of pancakes fill the air. He places you down on a seat, grabbing a plate and putting some pancakes on it, before serving it to you. You detectedly pick at the pancakes, staring out the window. It’s an overcast and cloudy day, might rain later. Enji seemingly notices this. 

 “Feeling melancholy, oh sorry, I meant, are you feeling sad??” He pries, softly bumping you with his elbow to get you to pay attention to him.

 “You kidna-” You got to interject, but get interrupted. 

 “I have something that might cheer you up! Look at this, my little ember!”

 Enji reaches over to grab the wet batter, he pours a bit into one of his cupped hands, and after putting down the container, presses his other hand over it. After a few seconds, he pulls apart his hand to reveal a potato-shaped pancake with imprints of his hands on it, perfectly cooked. 

 You fail to look impressed, to which Enji sighs. 

 “You will find it more interesting when you have your own quirk, I bet!”

 “...You realise I’m quirkless right?” You’ve been quirkless forever, you weren’t thrilled about it, but you made do, or you did, before this deranged hero kidnapped you.

 “Do not worry, my sweet little cinder. You are just a late bloomer. Your powers will come in soon, I guarantee it! You are a todoroki! It is in your very nature!”

 “But I-”

 “You might even get a fire quirk like your old man! Imagine how much I could impart to you! Are you not excited?!”

 “No, not rea-”

 “You will go to UA of course, but that might be putting the cart before the horse, champ. We should think about primary school before that...”

 Wait, what? Ignoring the fact that he’s trying to enrol you in primary school, this would mean you’d get out of the house, and presumably, to a teacher, who’d figure out you’re not a kid, and are in fact, being held against your will. 

 “I’d love to go to school Dad!” you cry enthuasatically, desperate to get out of the house.

 “Ha! You’re certainly eager!” He saddles up beside you and pulls you into his side, tussling your hair. 

 “Although...School seems a bit dangerous, looking at UA and what happened with sho- maybe instead, we could try a different approach, my little ember.”

 “But I’d really like to meet oth-” You need to force this issue, you can’t let him shut this issue down like this. This is your one chance to get outside the house.

 “Hmmm! How about instead, you use packet learning for general education, and well, we will cross the hero bridge when we get to it. Heh, maybe I could teach you about being a hero and intern you myself if you try to get your hero license! Would that not be fun, your old man teaching you how to be a hero?”

 He presses you into his side more, face pushed against his pecs, preventing you from speaking. It’s meant as a sort of hug, it mainly just hurts quite a bit. 

 “Just know I love you no matter what the outcome is, okay? Powers or no powers. Hero or no hero. You’ll always be my little ember!”

 Despite your flails and protests, Enji carries you to the couch, sitting you down next to the TV. The sun has risen fully, becoming mid-morning. 

 “Alright, kiddo. Want to watch some cartoons? How about that backyard science one? We could try to replicate, er, repeat,  the experiment later?”

 “Could I-er, we, watch that detective movie? I saw an ad for it, it looked interesting?” The issue is gone now, he will only deflect any questions, you’ve tried MANY times to get that to work. Might as well get SOME enjoyment out of this day. 

 “Hmpfh, you saw an advertisment for that movie? I need to monitor what you watch more often, that is much too dark for a young mind like you! Let me put on that science show…” 

 Enji goes to grab the remote, but you slap it out of his hand.

 “Stop this! Stop pretending that I’m your child! Stop trying to coddle me!“

 Enji goes to touch your shoulder, concern plastered over his face, hiding something sinister. 

 “Don’t fucking touch me you creep! Everyone knows you fucked up your first chance at a good family life, and this isn’t a fucking do over, you abusive, coddling, tormentor!” 

 Enji sighs.

 “And I was having such a nice morning too.” 

 Enji’s face grows dark as he stands up from the couch, before turning around and bending down to your level. Fast hands pinning your shoulders to your side, keeping you in place as an intimidating and vilanous look takes over his face. 

 “I will give you 5 seconds to apologise, and just maybe, I, your FATHER, can find it in my heart to lessen the SEVERE punishment you are getting, kid.”

 “1”

 “I’m sorry! Please! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!” 

 Enji’s face contorts into a smug smirk as confusion takes over yours.

 “2”

 “W-What? But-I’m sorry! Please listen to me!”

 You thrash useleslly against the hands holding you in place, desperate to try and escape his gaze. Reduced to a whimpering and crying mess as you think of the ‘discipline’ your father will inflict.

 “3”

 “Please! I said I’m sorry! What more do you want from me?!”

 You’re on the edge of hyper ventilating as Enji stares you down. His hands are warming up, grip tightening, only causing your thrashing to become even stronger. Your attempts to break free don’t even budge him an inch.

 “4...Do not make me count to 5...”

 “Please! Enj-Father! I’m sorry! I’ll do whatever you want! I’ll eat those pancakes! I’ll play along! Please, don’t hurt me!”

 Enji’s smug smile and piercing eyes will haunt your dreams.

 “...5. I thought I had raised you better than that, my little cinder. Oh well, time to-”

 Lightning and thunder interrupts the countdown, an ear-splitting crack emanating from outside the sealed house. Enji jumps to cover you, as you yelp, the already anxiety inducing conversation ruining your nerves so much a lightning strike scares you. Immediately, Enji’s menacing demeanor melted away. 

 “Oh, I thought it was a villi- nevermind.”

 Enji looks down at you. Your form is shaking, tears spilling out of your eyes. Looking both catatonic and extremely wound up, as you fail to comprehend your surroundings, simply mumbling to yourself about punishment and forgiveness.

“S-Sorry. Forgive. Forgive m-me.I-I-”

 “Do you see, my little ember? The threat of punishment WAS the punishment.

 His hands pulled you into his broad chest, shushing you and rubbing warming hands up and down your back. You keep on crying, your turbulent emotions entirely out of control, not knowing how to react. You feel like your sanity is so fragile, anything will break it. You simply focus on a spot upon the wall, and nothing else. 

 “It is okay, ember. It is just thunder. I will protect you.”

 “...not scared of thunder...” you mumble. He chooses to cocoon you further with his massive body, noticeably warming himself up to protect you from the potential cold.

 “You do not need to lie, little one. I am not expecting you to be perfect, okay?”

 He pauses, mulling over his next words. 

 “I am only expecting perfection from me.”

[brattyfics]

family day | writer wednesday

Pairing: Ezekiel Reyes x Black!OFC [Lena] Summary: Lena comes to the clubhouse to meet the guys. Tags: Angsty Fluff, Unresolved Feelings. Word Count: 1.5k

“Come by the clubhouse this weekend. We’re having a cookout. A family day.”

Lena tutted her skepticism while Ezekiel spoke. She had only caught glimpses of the Mayans’ gatherings, parties, whatever, but nothing about them screamed family-friendly. “Pops and Angel will be there.” She wanted to giggle at him using his father and brother as bargaining chips, but his voice had gotten more desperate with each word until he was almost pleading. She pouted on the other end of the line. He wasn’t playing fair.

“And most importantly...you?” Lena teased. He smiled. She could hear it in his tone. “Yeah. I’ll be there too. You?” She let out a dramatic sigh as if he were pulling her leg, but she had already made up her mind.

Since she and Ezekiel reconnected, Lena found herself in Santo Padre every other weekend. Usually, she arrived early on Saturday mornings, and Ezekiel held her close on his pull-out bed (which was surprisingly comfy considering). When they finally awoke for the day, he took her on little adventures. It was always something sweet and exciting-- an intimate ride on the back of his bike to somewhere beautiful. They revisited the beach, this time during the day. He chased her around in the sand, tickled her from behind in the salty water. Lena was able to stop and relax, see things she would never have been able to otherwise. It was so easy to get lost in the hustle and bustle of city living. She missed the simplistic beauty of nature.

Other times, he took her places to remind her of the past. The Carnival they frequented as teenagers, to the old ice cream parlor down the street from his dad’s shop. They spent all the time they could together, and when Ezekiel was busy with club business, she spent the time with her parents, helping them out around the house with whatever she could. There wasn’t much to do, there had never been, but something about it was enjoyable. Being in Santo Padre felt like stepping into a time machine. Nothing had changed. It was psychological warfare on Ezekiel’s part, but Lena never called him out on it. So, she relented, the way she always did when it came to him. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”

True to her word, Lena arrived at the Mayans clubhouse around noon, several homemade cakes in tow. Ezekiel met her outside as she was getting out of the car. “I didn’t know you still baked.” It had been a hobby of hers in high school, something inexpensive and fun to do while stuck in the house. Many things about her had changed, but some hadn’t. The thought made him smile. Maybe there was more hope for them than she thought after all.

“I told you, you didn’t have to bring anything.”

“I know, but I don’t like to show up places empty-handed. Can you take this, please? I need to get the other boxes out of the car still.” Ezekiel scooped the cardboard cake box from her. She kissed his cheek in thanks. It was out of instinct, an old habit, but he froze.

“What, I can’t kiss you now?” Yes, they had been sleeping together. Quite often, actually. And they had been going out on what most people would call dates, but they hadn’t been kissing. Not really. It would make what they were doing real. Lena avoided it as much as possible to protect herself. But the lines had started to blur, and she couldn’t distinguish the nostalgia from her real feelings. She would have to make a decision soon.

Ezekiel took advantage of her being distracted, pushing forward until her back rested against the closed car door. He sat the cake box on top of the car. “You can kiss me as much as you want. I just prefer you do it...” His lips brushed against hers. “...here.” She couldn’t think about anything when he kissed her like that. Nothing but him, the way he tasted on her tongue, what he felt like up against her. She closed her eyes tight and tried to memorize it all, kissing him with just as much desperation.

“Damn, Prospect, I know you’ve been out of the game awhile, but you should at least get the lady inside the trailer first!”

And then Angel fucking Reyes had to go and ruin it.

Ezekiel broke the kiss with a groan, giving his older brother a scalding look over his shoulder. But Angel didn’t care about things like not interrupting people or being polite, so he made his way over to them anyway, clapping his baby brother on the back. “Give her some room, bro.” He tested his luck, elbowing Ezekiel to the side. He filled the space, pulling Lena into a tight hug before his brother could retaliate.

“Are you really using me as a shield right now?” She complained, arms loosely hanging at her sides.

“Yes. Now, hug me back.” Angel would hold onto her until she did what he wanted. She knew that for a fact, so she brought her arms up to wrap around his midsection. “It’s good to see you.” He mumbled into her hair. “You too.” And she meant it, squeezing him back before letting go.

“Ooh. What’s this?” He cajoled when his eyes caught sight of the box.

“Cake.” Ezekiel answered for him dryly.

Angel snorted, rolling his eyes. “Obviously, Boy Scout. What kind is it, Lena?” She glanced over her shoulder at it, to be sure. “It’s vanilla cake with buttercream icing.”

“Vanilla? Aww, man. Where’s the chocolate? You know that’s my favorite.” EZ cut his brother’s complaining short. “You don’t like it, don’t eat it.”

“Shut up.” Two words from Angel was all it took for the two of them to start bickering. Angel grabbed for his brother’s thick neck, trying and failing to pull him into a chokehold. Ezekiel got the upper hand, and then the two of them were grappling, kicking up red dust in the process while they talked shit to each other. Lena sighed and stepped out of their way. “I see nothing’s changed.”

The sound of their scuffle gathered the attention of the other Mayans. Coco, who Lena thought she recognized as Angel’s friend, was among them. The shortest man of the group headed the bunch, kissing his teeth when he saw the fuss was just Angel and Ezekiel. Again.

“Break it up!”

Lena flinched, and she wasn’t even doing anything wrong! The brothers broke apart immediately, then sat down in the dirt, out of breath and wearing sheepish expressions. They were children. Lena refrained from the “If Marisol were here...” speech she so desperately wanted to give, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Hi, querida. You must be Lena.” The man introduced himself as Bishop, taking her hand to kiss.

“Oh, yes. Hi.” She squeaked out, suddenly shy. Ezekiel stood, grabbing hold of her waist, and took over the introductions. “Guys, Lena. Lena, this is...” He went down the line one by one, and she smiled politely and nodded along. She was flattered that they already seemed to be familiar with her. Ezekiel had to run around talking about her all day. The thought made her heart ache.

Bishop directed the guys to help her with the rest of the stuff. Tranq balanced a cake in each hand, Coco taking the bag with the cake cutters and plastic forks. Angel was pleased to learn that one of them had chocolate-flavored icing with yellow cake on the inside, just the way he liked it.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Bishop told her with a smile, patting her hand one final time. “Nice to meet you too.” She called after him while Ezekiel muttered something under his breath in a grumpy tone.

Lena got to know their guys and their families. She learned she had met Coco before, and she got to meet his teenage daughter, Letty. She was sweet in an adorable, hissing cat sort of way. Lena teased Ezekiel about Letty having a little crush on him, but he denied it. Swore Letty just appreciated him for helping her out with something. He wouldn’t elaborate on what the something was.

“I get it now.” Lena told him when they found themselves alone by the abandoned fire pit. She sat on the wooden bench next to him, halfway into his lap, a warm flannel blanket on top of them. He watched her closely. “You do?”

“Yeah. You have a place here. Community. Family. It’s nice.” They had played a card game earlier. The guys traded friendly insults across the table, but it was all out of love. She felt it.

“Mhm.” He looked down and cleared his throat. “Does that change anything? For you?” Lena considered it, drowning in the hopefulness in his hazel eyes. How could she tell him no? Say goodbye forever to those eyes?

“I don’t know. I mean, I’m not sure what I was expecting. Everyone’s so nice. Well, except Angel, but I already knew that.” Ezekiel smirked. “Yeah, he was born an ass.” He brought the cold beer bottle to his lips to sip, and then he got quiet.

“Do you think you’d like to come to another?”

Lena nodded. “Yeah, I think I would.”

Notes: Inspired by this week's prompt by @autumnleaves1991-blog. Card game is only briefly mentioned, but what can I say, I followed the muse?

@thesandbeneathmytoes​ This is for you. I’m slowly pulling it together. ❤️

General Taglist:

@woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @everyhowlmarksthedead @yourwonkywriter @trulysuccubus @sparklemichele @luckyharley1903 @thesandbeneathmytoes

[ketamineharry]

Hush Little Baby ~ Harry Lewis  Requested: Yes ~ Hello, idk if you’re doing requests rn but your writing is honestly amazing!! Could you do a Harry imagine where he and reader have been together forever and reader gets accidentally pregnant and it’s just baso the journey if ygm? Like telling him, his friends family fans and then baby being born kinda like a time line typa thing ? If not dw I love you so much !!!! And ~ Please could you write a Harry imagine where he has a daughter Tags: Fluff Word Count: 1.5k

It had been a full hour. A full hour of babysitting Rex Minter, Simon and Talia’s first-born child. They had wanted a date night and it was Harry’s turn to look after the little one. Yet, the whole time you had felt a sickness in the pits of your stomach, you were absolutely sure it would fade when you had eaten something. Here you were, a full large domino's pizza down, and the sickness had not faded. Going against your better judgement, you left Harry with the toddler and made your way to the bathroom.

You were acutely aware of the fact that Simon and Talia were planning on having another little one, so you knew that they would be well stocked on at home pregnancy kits. You carefully took one out of the glass bathroom cabinet, and walked over to the toilet. Deep down, you were hoping that you were wrong. That you were not pregnant. You knew for a fact that you were not ready for a baby and if you were completely honest, you knew that Harry wasn’t either. He was a brilliant uncle and loved having the boys’ children around, babysitting for them so they could have date nights, but he was always able to give them back at the end of a long night. You weren’t so sure how he would feel about not being able to do that. Not having the freedom to do what he wanted anymore, because he had to put this tiny life first. It just didn’t seem like the Harry you knew and loved.

The alarm of your phone pulled you out of the deep thought that you had found yourself in. In no world did you think that having a quiet night in babysitting for some friends would lead you into something so life changing. You carefully picked up the little stick from in front of you, taking a deep inhale of breath. Two lines. Positive. Fuck. As you cleared away the rubbish of the box, you slipped the pregnancy test into your pocket.

As you made your way back to Harry and Rex, all you could hear were joyous screams. Harry really was the fun uncle he had promised to be in a Sidemen Reacts video, many moons ago.

“Y/N!” Rex beamed as he ran up to you. “Uncle Harry was saying that I could have a chocolate for pudding. Usually mummy and daddy say no, and I have to have yogurt or a piece of fruit.”

“Oh that’s great buddy!” You reply, trying to force enthusiasm through the nerves and worry. Although you had no confidence in the fact that you were very successful in that. Harry sent you a glance that confirmed your thoughts. He hadn’t bought it for a second.

As you took Rex’s tiny hand in yours, and made your way to the kitchen, you slipped the pregnancy test to Harry, hoping beyond hope that his reaction was a good one. ‘We need to talk later’ he mouthed, increasing your anxiety tenfold.

-

The ‘talk’ Harry had referenced that night, didn’t amount to the negative that you had convinced yourself it would. You had agreed to keep the baby. Surprisingly, Harry was all for keeping the little one. He hadn’t expressed to you how much he had wanted a child, because he didn’t want to pressure you into anything. The fact that it had happened was such an unexpected surprise. A good surprise though!

You had been to a few scans together, watching your belly swell and get bigger as the months progressed. When it came to finding out the gender though, you chose not to find out. So, you had taken to calling the baby ‘Peanut’. Telling the other boys was an experience to say the very least. These were the men that had watched Harry grow up, from a reserved teenager to the extroverted man he had become. You had both agreed on telling them all at the same time.

The plan had been to get the children that had already been born into mini Sidemen FC t-shirts, starting with the oldest and ending with the youngest, your bump. Which would be painted black, with the number five as your little one would be the fifth addition to the Sidemen extended family. As it stood, the line was as follows: Ethan’s twins Oscar and Olivia who he shared with his wife Kayleigh, JJ’s son Morphius who he shared with his fiance Bella and little Rex. Nervously you went and stood next to Rex. Thankfully, with baggy clothes you had managed to hide the fact that you were pregnant. You took a hold of Rex’s hand, more for your own comfort than anything else. As if the reactions of your friends were wrapped up in the little hand of a toddler.

Slowly, you lifted your jumper up to reveal the paint that was on your stomach. Showing the number five that was painted on top of it. Suddenly, there was an eruption of cheers. The girls became overly emotional, which was expected. They had just found out that one of their best friends was carrying a new member of their extended family. The boys crowded around Harry, patting him on the shoulder and taking him in for hugs. The love being experienced in the room was tangible and you just knew that no matter what happened, your child would be growing up in such a loving environment.

Telling each of your respective families had been a totally different kettle of fish, however. This is where most of the nerves were mounting from for you. Your parents had become parents at a very young age, and had made a lot of mistakes, you were terrified of having history repeated. Having a baby in your early 20s, wasn’t the plan. You felt like you needed to learn more about yourself first, and one of your deepest fears was to have this confirmed by your own parents. Instead, the reaction that you received was nothing but positive. Your dad had warned Harry that he couldn’t drink as much beer, whilst your mum had warned you about the severe lack of sleep you were about to get. Overall though, they were beyond excited to have their family expanding. Harry’s parents had cried when you revealed the news to them. His sister, Rosie had got Peanut a little stuffed giraffe which she aptly named Gina.

-

Setting up the nursery was probably the most enjoyable part of the ordeal. Partly because you loved unleashing your creative side; and partly because decorating the nursery came at the latest point of your pregnancy. You had opted for a pale yellow paint for three of the walls, opting for a feature wall which was decorated in a safari print wallpaper.

You were helping Harry with the final touches of the room, you placed Gina giraffe in the corner of the cot, next to the pillow so that your baby always had comfort. Thinking about it, you were sure that you had a ragdoll from when you were a baby at your parents house. It’s funny how it’s the little things that you remember in the biggest moments.

As you turned around to admire your handy work, you felt an immense pressure, causing you to grip onto the cot and double over. You had never experienced anything like this before and you were pretty sure you knew what it was. Your baby was arriving and it was arriving fast.

“Harry,” You screamed, trying your best to stay calm as you knew this was a pivotal moment for the both of you. He was definitely as nervous as you, as he didn’t understand the mood changes, or the pain that you felt. Despite having attended every pregnancy class and read upteen pregnancy books. He had put a lot of opportunities that had presented themself to him on hold for the sake of you and your child as he wanted to be as supportive as possible. Which a meer nine months ago, you would have never imagined Harry doing.

You heard pounding up the stairs, Harry’s usual cheery disposition changing as soon as he saw the immense panic that had taken over your face. “I’ll grab the pregnancy bag, make your way to the car, it's already unlocked.” He informed me, as he grabbed the pregnancy bag from the other side of the room, helping me down the stairs as it had become near impossible to do the simplest of tasks, now that I was carrying our baby.

---

Labour was without a doubt the most painful thing you had ever experienced. It was a quick birth, having arrived at the hospital at seven, and giving birth to your daughter at exactly fifteen minutes past seven. Harry had fallen asleep in the chair in the corner of your room.

Your daughter, however, was screaming blue murder. Despite this, Harry still wouldn’t wake. So, with all your might, you scooped your little one into your arms. “Hush little baby, don’t you cry. We swear that we’ll never leave your side and if we do, remember this love like ours never dies.” You whisper, rocking her into a soft slumber as you placed a soft kiss to the top of her head. Your little family was already complete.

[janghoefett]

Smoke and Mirrors - Chapter 4

BOBA FETT X PRINCESS F!READER

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ NO MINORS Pairing: F/M Chapter word count: 1.9k

Warnings: f*ngering, oral (m receiving), lots o’ kissing, sneaking around… that’s it?

Okay I know I look like a clown for making a new post, but I realized I had set my Tumblr to a weird setting so nothing was showing up in the tags!!! Trying this again. I know. Hope you enjoy, and thank you to those who have already read!

SERIES MASTERLIST

—————————-

Perhaps Boba had been reckless.

Many people lean on a vice, be it drugs, alcohol… but Boba had no interest in either of those. No, for Boba it was sex. And he should have known better than to sleep with his asset.

Boba was accustomed to quick encounters; women who charged a fee, perhaps other hunters who passed in the night. It was a faceless release. He could imagine whoever, whatever he wanted — if he imagined anything at all. And though Boba Fett never forgot a face, he certainly didn’t carry any of the memories with him.

Boba Fett had no one.

But the girl who smiled at him so sweetly as she placed her life in his hands, who laid the workings of her heart bare, whose little fingers he could still feel intwined in his own… well, for her, Boba knows he is capable of doing terrifying things. And perhaps it was his instinct to get rid of those feelings the only way he knew how: by burying them inside of her.

A bounty hunter had made love to you in the darkness and returned you home as if nothing had happened. If it weren’t for the lingering feeling between your legs and the faint trace of a love bite on your breast the next morning, you would have believed it was a dream.

A week had gone by.

Boba made himself scarce and you rarely had a moment alone together after that night. There was no sign of him the next morning and no sign of where he slept either; you wondered if sleep was a luxury he ever allowed himself.

Jamie started coming by more frequently. Your time together was enjoyable and you found yourself growing closer to your old friend.

But you could hear Boba’s spurs pacing in the other room.

Tss, tss, tss, tss…

With every step you are reminded of him. You wished it was his hand on your thigh, you wished you were resting easy in his lap. You didn’t need Jamie’s drunken anecdotes, you needed Boba’s pensive mind and frank speech.

At least when this was over and he was gone forever, you’d be left with a perfect memory only the two of you would share.

———————————————

It was your engagement party. Or, some kind of party… the families insisted on fanfare to promote “good spirits” and to let Arcada know that things were on the mend. Frankly, you didn’t have the energy for it. You didn’t want to be there, you didn’t want to make small talk, you didn’t want to pretend that anything was alright.

But Boba was there. And you could be at ease knowing he was by your side.

The bounty hunter stands much like the way he did on the day you first met, ominous, completely still except for the way his head tilts to lock you in view. He nods once in acknowledgement.

“Fett,” you manage to choke out.

“Princess.”

Your heart stutters at the cold greeting, but still you both stand in painful silence as roaring chatter fills the air.

You watch Jamie schmooze his way through the crowd as an entourage of girls and scummy guys hang on his every step. Both his parents and your own are seated at a table in deep conversation. Friends, relatives, and those who pretend to be of any importance to you come to give their well wishes and congratulations.

But you weren’t the main attraction, thankfully. There was food and booze and plenty of debauchery to be had at this party for a fake marriage.

You’d take Jamie to bed like he always wanted and you’d let him fuck you to his heart’s content. And you’d enjoy it. You had danced the dance for years together, had many close calls and drunken nights— nights you thought were induced by genuine lust and passion. But you were bored and sad, and stars, you didn’t know what sex could be until he came.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Boba observes, snapping you out of a trance.

You say nothing. There’s so much you want to say, so much you wish you could confide in him.

Boba was like a fucking anesthetic. He knew how to cut you open like a surgeon, and you’d let him. You’d pour your guts out to him like the lost girl that you are and his clear mind and sharp words would put you back together again.

But tonight you just don’t have the words. Your chin wobbles and your breath comes out ragged.

“Mesh’la,” he sighs, so quietly, it’s as if the word reaches through the air and caresses your skin.

It’s a private word, one that leaves him surprisingly vulnerable to you, one that was a stark reminder from that night.

“Can we— can we get out of here?” you ask.

“As you wish.”

———————————————————

You ended up in a closet.

Boba shoots out the door’s control panel, and the moment his helmet comes off you are breathing each other in, pressing tentative kisses against each other’s lips. It’s heady and desperate but you cling to Boba as if your life depends on it. His strong arms prop you up on a table and he’s all over you, lips working eagerly against your skin, as his helmet rests at your side.

“You want me to touch you?” he rasps darkly.

“Uh huh.”

You lift your skirt up and Boba uses his hands to lift your legs up and back, grinding himself against you.

“I’m going to need you to be quiet for me, princess,” he breathes in your ear. “Think you can?”

You nod eagerly, accepting another open-mouthed kiss from the bounty hunter. His fingers rub you soothingly, moving your underwear to the side, before slipping two digits inside of your wet cunt.

Your exhale raggedly. Boba grunts involuntarily; he wasn’t being pleasured, no, but the feeling of your tightness on his fingers alone was enough to make his cock twitch.

“Has the prince ever done this to you, little one?”

“N-no…”

Boba curses under his breath, curling his thick fingers into you.  You whimper quietly. “That’s it, mesh’la. Tell me what you like.”

You reach instinctively for the bulge in his pants, barely ghosting your fingertips against the metal codpiece in silent want. Boba’s hands leave you only for a moment to free himself, using the moment to pull your panties down and off in a swift motion. His hand comes back to work with a vengeance.

Boba’s fingers provide that pure, unadulterated pleasure that can only make you feel good; it was the kind that came without the tinge of pain like the prick of his thick cock, it was like velvet was coursing through your veins as he chased your high.

Boba’s motions become more intense, more hurried. His thumb comes to your clit and you clench around his fingers, snapping your thighs closed against his hips.

“Oh shit!” you gasp.

Boba stops his motions and, slowly, places a finger against your lips. “Quiet, princess,” he chides you darkly.

Boba’s fingers continue their work, establishing a new rhythm. Your hips can’t help but move against his hand in search of your release and still your hands work at his cock. He growls quietly; it’s a strangled sound, one that you can feel in his body by the way he tenses.

“Please, Boba…” you whine.

His skin burns hot and smells of musky soap, and you press your cheek firmly against his neck, nuzzling into grind of his stubble.

“Let go, little one,” Boba grumbles. “I’ve got you.”

It’s sex. Just sex.

That’s what you tell yourself when Boba’s hand fists your hair so he can see your face as you come on his fingers.

Just sex. Nothing more.

That’s what you tell yourself when he uses his lips to stifle your broken cry of pleasure, letting you sob into his mouth.

Boba removes his fingers and strokes you softly, allowing you to come down from your high. “Did so well, mesh’la…” he whispers against your lips.

“Please fuck me,” you breathe.

“Yeah? You want that?”

“Mmhm,” you whine, bucking your hips against his.

“You’re gonna have to let me fuck you later then, sweet girl,” he smirks. “Can’t now.”

Your legs stay wrapped around his waist as Boba leans forward to kiss your mouth greedily, lewdly, grinding his hard center against yours. Your cunt flutters around nothing, weeping to be filled by something bigger than his fingers, when suddenly he breaks off from your lips.

Boba holds your jaw gently and searches your face. You’re underneath him, panting and exposed, when Boba decides to place his helmet back on. He comes to the side of the table and continues to stroke you, using one hand to rub you gently as the other pets the side of your head.

The bounty hunter was doting on you.

Boba’s dark eyes are hungry, depraved, but a sly smile finally plays across his lips. The sight below him is enough to clear his mind of everything until his thoughts are only of you. Your skin is dewy and heated, your eyes are closed and the smallest sounds of pleasure escape your lips. Boba fumbles for the toggle on the side of his helmet and turns his audio receptors up, increasing the internal volume to the maximum setting — his cock throbs at the result. He can hear every shaky breath, every whispered plea and exertion as if your lips were at his ear.

Your hand jerks his cock lazily from this new angle. It’s heavy and thick; to aid your hand, you eagerly turn your head to bring your watering mouth down on him. You lick up the shaft and nestle your lips around the tip, sucking mindlessly, when Boba suddenly pulls your head back.

“Careful, princess,” he huffs. “Or do you want to walk outside with my cum on your face?”

You laugh softly and bite your lip, your cheeks practically aflame as you blink up at the faceless bounty hunter through your lashes. “Who says I won’t swallow?” you reply.

His reaction would have been well-disguised if his cock hadn’t twitched in your hand in response.

Boba pulls you upright and angles himself between your legs that hang over the edge, pulling your waist flush against his stomach. “I’m too old for games, mesh’la,” he says gruffly, holding your chin. “When can I see you?”

“Tonight,” you pant. “My place.”

Boba nods slowly, tracing your jaw with the back of his finger. “Alright,” he agrees. “Tonight.”

Your hand comes to his side, to the place where his armor leaves him soft and exposed, and your hand runs lightly down the length of his torso. His breathing quells and you can feel the visor looking you over. His rough hands adjust your messed hair and his thumbs wipe the faint traces of sweat and tears from your face, admiring your disheveled state.

The rest of the party is a blur. You don’t dare turn around to look at Boba who trails you like your shadow, slinking behind you like a hunter stalking its prey.

It was going to be a long night.

[georgemackayhey]

Jealous and angry George x reader please

Well, here is this angsty blurb for ya! 

You and George rarely fought. When you did, it usually resulted in coming to reasonable compromises and sappy apologizes. And most of the time, you didn't so much entertain fights as you did spats over building bookshelves and planning Christmas trips home. So when the two of you started getting into it at the start of this month, you worried. 

Nights were ending without conclusions to your arguments, and each new day seemed to present a new layer of whatever problem it was the two of you were facing. You couldn't even meet in the middle, not with the way each of you refused to see one another's side of things. And it was no spat. It was a fight that sent you to bed with a slowly breaking heart. It was a fight that sent George off to work each day without waking you up to say goodbye. It was a fight so maddening that you were left with no choice but to throw together a few things and find a friend to let you crash at their place for an amount of time you couldn't be sure of… without telling George. 

For a few days, you were left to wonder if he'd care enough to find you. Your phone was empty of texts or calls from him. And you couldn't bear to drive by your place to try and see what he was up to. For a few days you spent most of your time.having some kind of nervous breakdown in your best pal's spare bedroom. And then you saw him. 

You were out to the same market at the same time. Because the least you could do was buy your friends groceries as thanks for letting you lock yourself away in their flat. George reluctantly stopped in the middle of the crowded place where you stood with your arms crossed, willing him to say something first. He did. He said he knew where you were staying, that your friend phoned him to let him know. He asked if you were alright. And that pissed you off more than whatever it was that started this whole thing. Of course you weren't alright. You cursed at George and spun out of his sight, so he wouldn't see the tears starting to fill your eyes. If he was really worried about you, he'd bring you home. That's what you decided. 

You saw George a couple more times over the next week. At a coffee shop your friend dragged you to, insisting you needed to get out of the house. George was there, and the two of you only stopped for a second to stare each other down, daring the other one to say something. Neither of you did, and when George left your friend started in on you. Going off about how ridiculous this whole thing was. How you and George just needed to work it out already, or call this whole thing off. Because this limbo wasn't helping anyone. That must have been the catalyst for what happened next. 

Your friend invited George over, and tried to stage some kind of intervention. You and George started up right away, exchanging the same exhausted argument. But thanks to your pals mediation, you were able to argue with George from an all new perspective. You had to give your friend credit for helping clear up a few blurred lines, but things between you and George were foggy as ever. But you could see how exhausted he was. And eventually he said so. He said he was tired of fighting. He asked you to just forget everything. But you said no. You couldn't just move on from this. You said if he really wanted you back, he'd have to want to work out this issue more than he wanted to forget it. You sent him away and feared what might've come next. You were right to. Because you stopped seeing him around. And your friend hadn't heard from him either. And you started to wish you had accepted his invitation. You started to actually forget what this was all about in the first place. You started to worry it wasn't worth it, and that you'd messed it all up. 

When the time came for you to see George again, you wondered if you even would. It was your best mates birthday. She invited George to the pub your group of pals was set to celebrate the night away at. No one had heard from George when you showed up and asked if he'd arrived yet. So while your pals took to the dance floor you stayed near the bar, downing one drink after another. 

"You don't look like you're having any fun." Someone said. A boy with dark eyes and dark curls.

"M'not." You shrugged, finishing off your third drink as the guy sat in the stool next to you. He offered to buy your next drink, and told some cheesy joke that was so bad you couldn't help but crack a smile.

You thanked him for the drink and the joke, and he offered a few other silly lines. Then he said something about how he couldn't leave until he got you to laugh, instead of trade sad little grins. His attention wasn't forceful, or annoying. It was actually almost comforting, almost enjoyable. It wasn't ideal. But it was the most attention you'd gotten in a long time. You leaned in to listen to the guy tell long winded stories, and let him move a lock of your hair out of your eye's. And he looked at you with such tenderness as he tried and failed to retell some joke from the 1930's. It scored a chuckle from you, and the guys eyes lit up to find he'd made you laugh. When a bout of quiet settled between the two of you, he asked if you wanted to go back to his place. Before you could respond, someone else did.

George had shown up sometime after you'd settled at the bar. He chatted with a friend for a bit, who told him how dumb he was being, and insisted he march up to you and bring you home. About that time, he looked up to find you in the middle of a conversation with some guy that wasn't him. You were smiling, and leaning in toward the guy, who dared to reach out and brush back a bit of your hair. And that was George's final straw. He hadn't ever wanted to lose you. But he'd foolishly let you wander off for too long. He'd let you go. Sick as it made George to watch the guy woo you he couldn't blame you for leaning into someone else. But he couldn't sit back and let it happen. He wasn't going to let some sleazy pub goer steal you away, after everything. So he shouldered past his oblivious friends and marched right up to you. 

The guy you were with was standing up, extending his hand to you. George watched you watching the other guy from the place you sat. He could tell you were debating your next move. And George stepped in just in time.

"Sorry mate, she's got better plans." He called, much to the dismay of the guy who had every hope of bringing you home.

"Sorry, who the fuck are you?" The random guy spat, stepping closer to you.

You had risen from your seat, turning to gawk at George. You had lost all hope of

seeing him here tonight. You were beginning to lose hope of ever seeing him at all. Relief washed over you at his defence. But worry bubbled in your throat for whatever was to come. You wanted nothing more than to be with George. But what if you couldn't work it out? 

"She doesn't want to go anywhere with you." George darkly pointed. He looked as if he hadn't slept in ages. 

"Think she can make up her own mind." Your newest friend nodded your way with a little grin. Now both men were looking at you with different hope-filled expressions. And you knew exactly what you wanted. 

"I wanna go home." You croaked, unable to hide the way your voice broke when you looked right at George. You struggled to hold back tears as his expression remained unchanged. But then he took one step closer to you and placed both hands on either side of your face and you could see he might've been trying not.to cry, too. 

"Let's go home, then." He spoke so quietly, surely no one else could hear. You couldn't stop your tears then, though you tried. You ducked your head and let George lead out of the pub as the guy you left behind cursed you as you went. 

Before you reached the car park you stopped George from dragging you to his ride. You threw your arms around his shoulders and cried and said you were sorry about one thousand times in a row. He said he was sorry too, and held you closer than ever before and eventually coaxed you into the car to head home. 

It was a good thing the ride home was so long that you dozed off. Because you didn't get very much sleep that night, in the bed you shared with George. You'd so much missed the way the sheets smelled and how his hold on you was warmer than the quilt cover. You spent all night making up, with and without so many words. You promised to never let anything like that happen ever again, and felt some kind of grateful for how nice making up felt,  though surely nothing could top the feeling of absolutely trusting that you'd be able to work through anything with George forever and always, after all.

Send blurbs / Inspiration to help start me out?!

[burnedbyshoto]

Fifteen Kisses

pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warning: fluffy fluff, implied smut, tiny angst, cussing

word count: 7,054

a/n: a super late birthday to todoroki shouto, the loml. this took forever im so sorry.

Synopsis: Fourteen different kisses you give Shouto, and the one he gives you.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

One.

Shouto smiles as yet another one of his classmates wish him a happy birthday. Today was his eighteenth birthday, and to say the least, it had been a good one so far. Most of his presents had been cute anecdotes of his relationship with everyone in the class. Plus the few gift certificates to his favorite restaurant was a good thing in his eyes. 

Not that he had been counting, but he was missing one gift: from you. 

He hadn’t seen you all day, only catching your swinging hair as you seemed to avoid him. Now the two of you were close, and you had even stayed up to send him a birthday text at midnight this morning, but now you were avoiding him better than most. 

Seeing that his birthday landed on the weekend, he didn’t see you at breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Hell, he was sure you hid behind Shoji when singing a happy birthday. To say the least, he was confused and had wanted to spend the day with you. You were one of his closest friends, and it annoyed him that you weren’t around. But it was too late.

Nearing eleven at night, Shouto called it quits on seeing you today. 

His hands were shoved into his sweatpants as he climbed up the staircase, his brows furrowed as he wondered just why you weren’t around. Opening the door to his floor, his eyes trailing to the right side of the hall, the ball that held the girl’s dorms. 

Loud and boisterous arguing of the girls echoed in the halls, and Shouto watched as you were somehow fighting off all six girls of your class. He stopped in his tracks as he watched you fend off Uraraka’s hands while resisting Tsuyu’s and Jirou’s hold on you. Mina and Hagakure screamed as they tried assisting Uraraka, and Momo was talking loudly in an attempt to stop them all. Shouto’s lips quirked into an amused smirk as he watched your body slam against the floor as you wiggled out of the hole you were in. 

“YOU HAVE TO DO IT!” Mina screamed over the loud noises you were all making. 

“I WAS JOKING!” You screeched as three pairs of hands grabbed your thrashing legs and began dragging you down the hallway. 

“Y/n, you don’t have to— oh! Todoroki-san!” Momo’s eyes widened as 

“Hi,” Shouto replies as your torso shoots up from the floor. Your face is flushed from the struggle. Your hair a mess from being dragged on the floor and your eyes are full saucers. “You okay, y/n?”

“Shouto!” You squeak as you stumble onto your feet, your hand immediately scratching the back of your head as you laugh awkwardly. “H-How are you? Um, happy birthday!”

“Thank you,” Shouto smiles as you nod as you laugh loudly again. 

“So, see you tomorrow!” You exclaim moving to leave, but the girls are five steps ahead of you. 

A present is shoved in your hands, and you’re pushed into Shouto’s chest as the six girls hurry away.

“Don’t let her go until she gives you her gift!” Mina yelled as they disappeared behind the corner. Shouto’s eyes looked down to your face that looked ready to die. 

“Um, so you want to come to my room?” Shouto asked you, and to his enjoyment, you agreed.

It didn’t take long for the conversation to flow out from you two, a whole day without a discussion being made up as you entered his room. Your eyes shone with unworldly energy as you sat down on his bed, your arms shooting in animated fashion as you explained a story you had fallen asleep while explaining to him last night. 

Shouto crossed his arms as he sat beside you as you finished the story. 

“So, what did you get me?” Shouto asked, nodding towards the blue bag in your hands. 

“Arrogant much?” You playfully scoff pressing the bag to your chest. “It’s actually a present for me!”

“From yourself?”

“A girls gotta treat herself!” You snark as you giggle, shaking your head, you hand over his gift. “Open it.”

Shouto’s body warms up as he opens the bag and pulls out a bag of his favorite chips, a new outfit, and a handwritten card from you. 

“Sorry, it sucks,” you whisper as your eyes glance up at his. “Things are super expensive, and I’m broke!”

His eyebrow quirks as he looks at you, “I love it, thank you for the present y/n.”

A relieved smile spreads on your face as you clasp your hands together. 

“Well, I’ll leave you alone now! Goodnight, Shouto, sorry for ignoring you all day!”

Shouto watched as you stood up, your hands flattening your leggings as you smiled. 

“Why were you ignoring me? Did I do something? I just… don’t understand why you did that, and then you were fighting with the girls earlier?”

Shouto stood up, his eyes locking on your frantic eyes. 

“I lost a bet,” you speak slowly, your head dropping to keep your eyes hidden from his own. “I’m supposed to repay today, but I’ve been a coward.”

“How can I help?” Shouto asked as his arms fold again, “If it’s money, I can give it to you.”

You laugh, shaking your head, but there’s a tremor to your shoulders as you look back up to him. 

“Promise you won’t hate me…”

“I could never.”

Shouto watched as your face turned severe, your lower lip trembling with uncertainty, with fear. Concern filled him as he wondered just what exactly he could do to help you, what was the terms to the bet? He hoped it was nothing… serious.

There was something warm and soft pressed against his lips strawberry and vanilla flooded his senses, and everything felt perfect. Shouto couldn’t process what was happening as you pulled away just as quickly. 

“Good night! Happy birthday!” You squeaked as you ran into the door before managing to open it and run away. 

As the door to his room closed, Shouto’s fingers pressed against his mouth as your kiss seemed to be imprinted into him. A memory he wished he could change now that it was over. 

Did that mean… Did you like him?

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Two.

The kiss wasn’t spoken about. 

Shouto might as well dreamt it, but he knew it was real on account of the giggling female classmates of his. They seemed to increase in chaotic energy whenever he was around you. Knowing smirks, sparkling eyes, and teasing words. Had it not been for them, he might’ve convinced himself it was fake. 

But there was also the fact that you could never seem to look him in the eyes anymore. Shouto was too awkward to talk about it, his words continually failing him when he went to sit next to you. However, even with the subtle change in your relationship, some things didn’t change. 

It was one in the morning, and Shouto was wide awake as a knock pressed against his door. 

Getting up, Shouto opened the door to see you holding a blanket and a pillow. 

The yellow luminescent of the hallway lights seeming entirely too bright as Shouto’s eyes adjusted from the darkroom. 

“I can’t sleep,” you whisper, and as he always did, Shouto let you in. 

It was something that started this year after the first-semester hero work disaster. You suffered a horrendous villain attack that left civilians dead, and you had to watch. Many nights you stayed awake unable to sleep. Typically going into the shared space until you were tired, until one day at three in the morning when an awoken Shouto needed water and found you staring at the wall with tears in your eyes and eye bags staining your face. 

Shouto invited you to sleep in the same room with him that night, and the rest was history. 

Slipping into the bed next to you, Shouto stares at you as you breathe in deep. He grabs your hand and places it on his cheek so that your fingers could trace his skin instead of digging into your skin. Your fingers trace his face without saying anything, eyes focused on the tip of his finger rather than him. 

“What happened?” Shouto whispers as you draw nameless shapes onto his cheeks. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Your head shakes as your thumb shifts to glide over his cheeks. His skin is soft despite all logic, toned, and warm. It soothes you as your finger brushes against his lower lip, and Shouto forgets how to breathe as your steady breathing fans gently across his skin. You take long and slow blinks as you shift closer to him, and Shouto’s heart stops as your eyes finally meet yours. 

“I’m sorry for kissing you on your birthday,” you whisper as your thumb traces the line between his lips. Your eyes are apologetic and sad, tired yet awake. “That was my losing bet.”

Shouto’s heart both shrinks and grows at your words, “Sorry for being a horrible kiss,” he teases. “It was my first one…”

Your thumb stops tracing his lips, and your eyes widen in horror, “Fuck, I’m so sorry!” you exclaim as humiliation spreads across your face. “I didn’t know!”

“Well, I’ve never really cared about my first kiss, it’s not something I’d concern myself over,” Shouto calms you as he presses a gentle kiss to your fingers. “While I can’t say this is what I imagined for my first kiss, it wasn’t bad. I’m only sorry that you left right away.”

His chest pounds as the words slip from his lips, what a fucking idiot?! Why did he say that!

Your chuckle is light as your head shakes softly, “Me too.”

“Can I try again?” Shouto whispers his tone full of desire and hesitation. Your thumb resumes it’s tracing on his lips as an embarrassed smile stretches on your face. 

He watched silently as your eyes fell to his lips, and Shouto froze as they locked again on his. The fingers tracing his lips moved from his mouth to the bottom of his mouth, kissing him as if he was glass, one second from breaking.

Everyone frets about their first kiss, but Shouto would forever remember his second kiss from you— with you.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Three.

“Shouto, that’s not working!” You howl in laughter as he tries evaporating the pouring rain with his fire. 

“We don’t have umbrellas, and your quirk doesn’t work, and the ice was too much work!” Shouto chuckles as he brings you closer to him. “The fire should work!”

“All it’s doing is burning half my face instead of you hold my hand to warm me up!”

Shouto laughs at your complaint as he shifts his jacket more towards you. His school uniform jacket was being used as a makeshift umbrella as the rain was relentless and unforgiving. 

The two of you had hero work in some small town and being a few kilometers from the train station, and with nothing but your bodies, you were succumbed by the rain. 

“Careful with the puddle!” Shouto shouted as you looked down, but you sorely missed the puddle and water sloshed entirely into your shoe. Your entire foot and sock were soaked to the bone, and you shrieked loudly as your sloshing footsteps to keep up with Shouto was uncomfortable.

“Idiot!”

“You were distracting me with your fire!”

Shouto looks at you with a wide grin, “Come on, there’s that bus stop right there.”

Your eyes locked in with the weathered bus stop, which held dry ground underneath it, nodding, you turned to start running towards there. However, Shouto scooped you off your feet and ran off towards the bus stop.

Face burning with embarrassment, Shouto placed you down underneath the bus stop. The rain was loud as it fell onto the ground and the metal overhead, and you were out of breathe as you stare up at Shouto who’s wet hair plastered against his forehead. 

His skin shined in the dull light, and he looked dewy as he runs a hand through his hair. 

“Do you want me to dry you?” He asks, his eyes meeting your unsuspecting and laboriously checking out eyes. You stepped back startled as you averted your gaze, your head nods. 

“My shoes and socks, please,” you mumble as Shouto smiles fondly. 

Your eyes lock on Shouto once more as his left-hand places against your muddied feet. Warmth spreads through your body at his touch, goosebumps rising up as he dried both of your feet before standing up. He was too close to you, your face moving backward as he stood straight. 

Despite your now dry legs, the rest of your body remained cold as water dripped from your hair and clothes still. Your gaze fell again on his partially opened lips, they were full, soft, and wet from the rain. They tinted red from the cold, and you wanted nothing more than to press your lips against his.

“Should we wait until the rain clears up?” Shouto whispers as if scared to break this enchantment the two of you had placed yourself under. 

“I think so,” you respond as you lift onto your toes and kiss him wholeheartedly. 

Your lips glided together, still slick with the rain, and your arms snaked around his neck, drawing him in close as his hands held your waist gently. Tilting heads and open mouth kisses continued, and your chest felt like it was lit on fire as your chests pressed together. 

The rain continued to pour down as the two of you continued to kiss. 

This marked your tenth kiss with Todoroki Shouto, and both of you were still single.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Four.

“This is the final final exam, and you’re really going to give up?” Shouto asked from across from you. 

The two of you sat in your room studying for the English Final. 

English was not your favorite subject, the grammar rules were complete bullshit, and when talking with visiting American students, they basically said grammar didn’t matter. So you couldn’t understand why you were here struggling over these rules when English students didn’t even abide by them! How fatuous! 

“I just don’t see the purpose of learning grammatically correct English,” you groan as you fall back onto your pillows.

Shouto sighs as he places the cheat sheet on the piles of papers on your bed. There were seven different subjects to prepare for, and so far, the two of you finalized three. 

“Come on, y/n,” Shouto sighs as he takes your hands in his, “sit up. Let’s see what’s confusing you.”

“What’s confusing is realizing that I should be rich as fuck, but I’m not,” you pout as you let him pull you into a sitting position.

Your cheeks turn warm as Shouto shifts over to sit right next to you, his knees touching yours as you look at your immaculate study notes. Shouto’s arm pressed into you as he explained the different verb tenses in English and how punctuation was such an important thing. The truth of the matter was you were quite adept in English, it was just a subject that had understood relatively easy after a certain age, but Shouto tutoring you was enough reason to pretend not to have a single clue.

“Do you get when to place the gerunds?” Shouto asked from the side.

“Place it in on action word when I feel like it, or whenever it makes sense,” your respond back with an amused snort. 

“I mean… that’s not wrong, but it’s not right,” Shouto responded, shaking his head, and you scoffed, snapping your head towards him.

But Shouto was a lot closer than you had assumed as your cheek and lips dragged across his lips.

Your eyes widened as you shot away, the two of you had promised each other many kisses ago you had to stop until a relationship was defined. But with growing tensions in the villain world, neither one of you wanted to set your feelings in fear that it would be for naught.

Still, there was something magnetic and undeniable about him and you, and as the seconds in time seemed to pass for eternity, a crashing force compelled the two of you to meet in the middle. Your hands rested on his chest as he grabbed your chin. Heads tilting to the side to allow a deeper angle as your lips danced as only lovers knew. The sounds of your joining and separating lips made your head spin as you pulled away, cheeks burning as his eyes fluttered open.

“We should get back to studying,” you whisper as Shouto clears his throat, agreeing.

“So, adding the -ing…”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Five.

Your fingers trembled as you pulled on your hero costume.

You were so nervous. You’ve been fighting villains since your first year, but this was different; this was preparation for war that would end with death. Your steps where fast and your breath was quick, short, frantic as you walked out ready to meet up with your classmates.

Tomorrow was to be your graduation and yet here you were, unexcited for what the following day would bring.

“Y/n,” Shouto’s voice called for you, and your eyes focused on the man who held your heart and admiration. 

Still, your relationship went undefined, and who knew if either one of you would be here in the next twenty-four hours.

“Shouto,” you smiled as the world seemed to blur as he stopped in front of you, his hand taking yours in his. His grasp was warm, wary, and gentle. It gave you unrealistic hope that everything would be okay, but you knew you had to be okay, you were a hero, and you needed to be reliable.

“I have something I need to tell you,” he whispers as you nod, you were listening. “When this is over, I’m going to take you on a date.”

Your eyes widen as a small and nearly scared chuckle left his lips, “It is long overdue.”

Shouto grins at you as his fingers hooks under your chin, and your lips meet him in a gentle kiss. It doesn’t last long, not at all, and before you could memorize the feeling of his lips against yours, he’s pulled away.

Fluttering open, your eyes lock on Shouto’s who has gone rigid. Tension sits heavy in your throat and your bones as you fear what’s to come. What if this was it? There was already too much you regretted, and it seemed that Shouto was on the same page as your lips slammed back together in a crushing force. It was sloppy, hungry, and passionate.

Tongues unable to battle as they desperately sought touch, teeth clashing against each other more often than not, and hands memorizing the outline of each other’s silhouettes. His lips were hot against yours, and the calming smell of his scent overwhelmed you until you forced yourself to push away. You were heading to different areas of the upcoming battlegrounds.

“Good luck,” you whisper.

“Don’t die.”

You turned and began running off, making sure to take one last look at Shouto, who was running off too.

“I love you.”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Six.

Tears streamed down your eyes as you stared at the collapsed and defeated figures before you.

Stupid emotionally manipulating quirk.

Brushing the streaming tears off your cheeks, you sniffled as you looked at Shouto of whom you had saved from these two characters. Your costume was torn, blood was dried on your legs and arms, and sweat poured against your skin. The battle was still ongoing, but as you studied Shouto, who was in a similar state to you, the world went quiet again.

“Glad to see you’re still alive,” you partially tease, partially speak the truth as Shouto stands to his feet.

“I have an important date to get to after all this,” he smiles as his shoulders relax. “I won’t go down yet.”

Two loud explosions are heard from polar sides, and the reality of the situation comes back in full effect.

“We should get going,” you whisper as your feet immediately start moving towards the explosion to your right. “Be safe--”

“Kiss me,” he breathily demands, and you pause in your movements. 

His eyes are firm and desperate for you to comply to his demand, and so in the quickest response, you could give him your lips planted against his again. It was soft and too fast as you pulled away before he could even place his hands on your waist. 

“Stay alert,” you whisper before pushing away.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Seven.

Cheers rang heavy in your ears as you swayed to your feet.

Everything hurt, but by the sounds of it, you guys had won. Pressing off the floor and onto your feet, a splitting headache shot your nerves as you groaned. Arms surrounded you as victorious hugs went around, but you could barely keep up with who was hugging you as more and more people came around.

Relief flooded you as you saw your friends all safe and sound, or at the very least not dead. The reality of what had just happened, of what not only you third years but Pro-Heroes and first and second-year students went through slammed through in this almost anxious cry. You all could’ve died.

There could have been no survivors.

Crushing what-ifs slammed through you as you made your way out of the huddle of people who had gathered in wistful celebration.

Hands found your tear-stained cheeks, and you looked up with blurred vision at a familiar face.

“You’re okay,” he whispered as you nodded, unable to speak as your crying grew even more. “You’re safe, I’m safe.”

“I-I know!” You blubber as your hands grip the collar of his costume and slam his lips against yours.

This wasn’t your usual kisses that flowed with feelings and passion, this was desperate. A kiss meant for the beginning of the war, not the end. Tears mixed between your lips as your arms wrapped him, eliminating any space between the two of you, yet it wasn’t enough. Your fingers raked through his messy hair, trying to convince your brain that this was real, he was real, this victory was real. Shouto responded with the same level of energy, and despite your burning lungs, you wouldn’t break apart.

No, not yet.

The two of you continued this desperate and needful kiss until you could kiss no longer, and his bruised red lips quirked into a smile as he brushed your hair to the side.

“You’re beautiful.”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Eight.

Somehow everyone thought that this first date with Shouto was going to be one to go down in history.

Well, they weren’t wrong per se.

The first date was short of a disaster, and it was so awkward.

Your hands lay stiff at your side as Shouto walked you back to your new apartment. The air was silent between the two of you as neither one of you spoke. For two people who have all but fucked, finally turning to put a label on this had made a typically relaxed duo into wooden statues.

Only a week ago, the two of you had sunk to the ground in a desperate kiss, and now you couldn’t make eye contact.

Pathetic, truly pathetic.

 “Tonight was… fun,” Shouto spoke up as you entered the building, his hand opening the door for you as you stepped in.

Hearing that he was trying to overlook the apparent tension of the date, you laughed as you nodded your head, “It’s going down in the books as one of the best nights.”

“I don’t blame you,” he continues to joke as you climb up the staircase with him a few steps below you. “Well, I also can’t compare you to anything else.”

“Are you saying that I only get the best date pass because you’re a virgin dater?”

“...I sort of hate how you phrased that, but yes.”

Your lips curl into a smile as you turn around to glance as Shouto, who is emulating the same smile on his face.

“I feel so lucky,” you sigh as you step out onto your floor.

It goes quiet again as you make your way to the front door of your space.

“So… I’ll see you tomorrow for Bakugou’s birthday?” You ask as you unlock the front door, your body twisting to look at him as you were unsure of what to do now.

“Yeah, do you need me to pick you up?”

You nodded as you contemplated hugging or kissing him. Would embracing him be a spit in his face granted the many exchanged kisses beforehand? Would kissing be too forward after such an awkward date?

Deciding on a kiss on the cheek, you went in for your goodnight, but it seemed Shouto had the same idea.

Your lips met in an awkward kiss.

A peck almost that sent you stumbling away as you laughed loudly in an attempt to disguise your painful awkwardness, “See ya tomorrow!”

“See you…”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Nine.

The awkwardness of the first date thankfully never repeated again. 

“I’m not sharing with you, so stop giving me those eyes,” Shouto grumbled as he took another bite of his strawberry cheesecake.

“But Shouto,” you whine as you try pushing up on his chest to take a bite from his sweet dessert, he moved it further away, and you groaned falling onto his chest, “I haven’t even taken a bite out of it!”

“Yeah, but you ate the entire another slice after claiming you ‘weren’t hungry,’ love,” he rolled his eyes, but there was no malice behind it as you laughed into his chest.

Turning your head, you watched as Shouto placed the last bite of the deliciously sweet cheesecake into his mouth. You needed a taste of it, you craved more.

Licking your lips, a grin faded into your mouth as you pushed up off the couch, your eyes meeting Shouto’s unsuspecting but cautious eyes as he stopped chewing.

“Wha’ are you -- mmph?”

With the cheesecake still in his mouth, your lips pressed against his in a passionate affair. Your fingers rested on his jaws as you felt Shouto trying to finish the food in his mouth, but in the act of pure stupidity, you pressed your tongue through his lips.

The taste of the strawberry cheesecake flooded your senses as Shouto sat up, his hands on your hips as you adjusted correctly. The taste was light and sweet without being overwhelming; your grin widened as Shouto whined against your lips, and a sharp pinch was felt on your ass.

“What are you doing?!” Shouto wheezes, recomposing himself after you jolt away from him due to the pinch on your butt.

“Getting my fair share of cheesecake,” you innocently state while batting your eyelashes.

“You’re a brat…”

“A hungry one at that!”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Ten.

“Another kiss…”

…

“One more…”

....

“Don’t leave yet, not until I have my kiss.”

You laughed so loudly it boarded a cackle as you once against pressed another kiss to Shouto’s lips. You had work today, and Shouto did not. In your attempt to leave, he had been demanding more and more kisses, unsatisfied with the ones you had been giving him.

“You call me the brat, but look at you, mister--” your lips press against his warm ones-- “You won’t let me leave, will you?”

“Fuck your job, come and stay here with me.”

Brushing his messy with sleep hair out of his face, you smiled at your boyfriend, who was borderline pouting.

“I actually love my job,” you insist as Shouto tries to pull you into a hold you knew you wouldn’t be able to fight off. “I need to go.”

“One more kiss before you leave,” he says again as if you hadn’t already given him twenty additional kisses past the initial farewell.

“Fine,” you cave with no resistance as you lean down and press your lips against his one last time. Your hands rested on his warm skin as your lips pressed in a soft and sweet kiss. But it seemed that Shouto was determined to get you to stay as his right hand tangled into your hair.

Amusement shot through your veins as you’re prevented from pulling away. So doing what you could only do, you pressed into the kiss harder, your body moving to manipulate Shouto under your will, and the moment your ass sat against his hips, he broke apart to sigh.

That was all you needed.

He came back in with his lips partially open, but you blew a stream of air into his unsuspecting mouth, and his eyes snapped open, the spell broken as you tumbled off of him, your hands waving as you finally left to start your day. You could only hear his groan as you giggled, eventually making it out of the door.

“I love you!”

“Love you too…”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Eleven.

It was nearly one in the morning, and you sat at the kitchen table with a blanket wrapped snugly around you. A teacup rested in your fingers as you took another sip of it. Shouto sat in a few seats away from you, paperwork splayed everywhere on the table as he studied the ones in front of him.

There had been significant issues with the paperwork surrounding a few cases he had solved, so taking it upon himself to figure out alone, Shouto had been studying fifty casework paper meticulously for the past seventy-four hours straight.

“I think it’s time for bed,” you call standing up. Downing the rest of your tea, you went to wash it, but your eyes refocused on Shouto, who hadn’t even reacted to your claim. “Shouto?”

His bloodshot eyes snapped up to you as he nodded, his attention quickly returning back to the paper, “I think I’m going to stay up for a little longer, I’ll meet you in bed.”

You didn’t want to agree. You shouldn’t have, but Todoroki Shouto was by all, and every means stubborn at times.

Nodding, you pressed a goodnight kiss to his temple, a kiss he attempted to return but kissed the air.

Going to the bathroom, you finished getting ready for bed, brushing your teeth, washing your face, you climbed into bed.

A little longer, that’s what he had said.

Blinking, you turned toward the alarm clock that displayed a 2:00 a.m., and you groaned. A little longer your ass.

Sliding out of bed, you walked to the kitchen, where Shouto was circling and highlighting different areas of his work.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, he didn’t even flinch at your arrival. He lay his head against you for a millisecond before returning to his work, you could feel how tense and tired he was, yet he was trying to pretend he was okay. Sighing softly, it seemed that you were going to have to force him to sleep. So determined to make your boyfriend sleep, you began to press gentle kisses against his stiff neck.

Never leaving his soft yet tense skin, you pressed more kisses against his neck, trailing down to his shoulder and back to his neck. The kisses are tender, sweet, unhurried. They speak of your want to get him to bed, and it seems Shouto, at the very least, is put under some spell.

His breathing has piqued as your lips continue their senseless trail. His eyes have closed, and his pen is seconds from falling from his fingers.

“Come to bed with me, handsome,” you whisper as your lips find themselves behind his ear, the sweetness and innocence of your affection still very much in tack.

“I gotta… I gotta finish this,” he almost slurs as he seems to be battling this internal war.

“You will finish this,” you promise him as you finally relieve your lips from his skin. Pulling out his chair, Shouto remained glued to the seat as his hands fell dead to his side.

He was exhausted.

A sad smile overcame you as you moved to stand before him, your hands cupping his firm cheeks to make him look at you. His eyes were red, they were exhausted, they were wet with oncoming tears.

“I’m so tired,” he whispers as you nod in understanding.

“I know, baby, so let’s go to bed.”

“But the paper…”

You sigh through your nose as you press a soft kiss to his lips. They speak of how you needed him in bed with you, how this would be finished tomorrow, but he needed rest.

“Tomorrow, my love,” you promise as you pull him to his feet.

“Tomorrow…”

As you finished getting him ready for bed, Shouto fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, and after tucking him into bed, you turned on your heel, making your way to the kitchen again.

You would finish this for him.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Twelve.

Gentle. Comforting. Relieving.

Those were among the words you would use in describing your relationship with Shouto. It was a relationship between equals, and it was soft, it was loving. Most nights were seen leaving the two of you curled into one another passed out with love and happiness pouring from you.

Tonight was not soft, but it was loving in a different sense. It would definitely leave the two of you passed out with love and happiness, but again for a different reason.

The moan that escaped your lips was muffled by Shouto’s tongue that swirled around in your mouth.

You were up on your tiptoes as you allowed him to lead you about in the hallway. Yes, the two of you hadn’t even made it back into your apartment before enacting your horny feelings. Your lips were almost chaotic against one another, desperate to show just how badly you wanted each other, eager to prove that tonight was going to be magical.

Of course, this was partially your fault for being so aggressive in your kissing in the elevator, but the two of you had been dressed up smartly for a gala, and well, you could no longer resist your man in a fitted all-black suit.

A grunt of discomfort came from your lips as your back was rammed into the doorknob of your apartment, Shouto apologizing against your lips as he struggled to unlock the door while kissing you with his eyes closed. The door opened, and you both stumbled through the threshold blindly and passionately kissing. 

The next thing you knew, Shouto had you lifted in the air, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist. Your hips took no time to grind against his crotch, to which he loudly confirmed that it was a feeling he enjoyed.

Clinging to him desperately, you attempted to strip him of his clothes.

The kiss did not still in its levels of passion, only seeming to grow exponentially as his jacket landed on the floor with a thud. Noises of approval, cries of lust fueling both of you on as your lips dragged heatedly against one another.

His hands gripped your breasts as you slammed into a wall, and your head slammed back as you cried his name.

Shouto wasted no time in latching onto the swell of your breasts, his teeth nipping at your exposed skin, his hips bucking against your grinding hips, increasing the monumentous pleasure by one hundred.

“The bed,” you whimper as your fingers string into his hair, pulling and tugging at the two colored strands as you needed more as the heat between your legs only grew in the passing seconds and actions. “Please go to the bed.”

“It’s too far away,” Shouto gasps as his teeth sink into the sweet spot on your neck, and you cry in electrifying pleasure as you once again increase the speed of your humping. “Fuck!”

Your lips quirked into a smile at the feeling of his palpable excitement as he tumbles to the couch that was a mere few strides away. Crashing into the softness of the cushions, your eyes sparkled as you began to hastily remove your dress.

“I hope you’re ready,” you grin as you pull off the dress, revealing to Shouto the lingerie you wore underneath. Your grin turns sly as you watch him gulp harshly, his eyes roaming your body as his shirt and tie fall to the ground. Standing up you pulled onto the belt loops of his slacks and easily twisted to have him stumbling and now sitting down. His eyes took you in again as he groaned softly and your eyes focused on the excitement in his pants. “I’m in charge tonight.”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Thirteen.

The taste of salt filled your senses as you pulled away from Shouto’s tear streaming face.

“Do we have to do this,” he whispered as you look away.

You had to.

“I’m sorry.”

“Was I not enough for you?”

A heavyweight sat on your chest as tears fell from his eyes faster than you could kiss them away.

“You’ve always been more than enough.”

“Then why are you breaking up with me?”

You willed yourself not to cry, trying not to remember the real reason why you had to break up with him.

“Because I’m not good enough.”

“Don’t fucking bullshit me, y/n,” Shouto snaps, his lips curling into a sneer as he glares at you. “If you’re going to break up with me, do it because you want to do it. But don’t fucking lie to my face like a coward.”

His words are hateful, spiteful, and bitter. The acid in your stomach seems to shoot up your throat as you watch Shouto standing up, his head shaking.

“You know what, forget about it. I don’t want to fucking know.”

“I don’t know what else you want to hear,” you snap, your words vomiting up as frustration flares through you. “That’s the fucking truth, I’m not lying! So instead of being an asshole, fucking leave.”

You watched with streaming tears as Shouto scoffs, and without so much as a goodbye, he turned and left. The door slamming closed, rattled your apartment, and you with it as you dropped to the floor weeping.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Fourteen.

You opened your front door with bleary eyes.

It had been a little over a week since breaking up, and even if it was for the right reasons, you were wrecked.

To your surprise, Shouto stood in front of the door. His gaze concentrated on his feet as his lips were pulled into a solid line. His hand held a bouquet of your favorite flowers and what seemed to be takeout from your favorite restaurant.

“What are you--?”

“I know why you broke up with me,” he interrupts you, his frown growing as he locks eyes with you. His gaze is sharp, steady, and desperate. “I know that you think this is to help me, but it’s bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit,” you mumble as you look away, “but it doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“I was an asshole the day you broke up with me,” he sighs, his shoulders slumping as his free hand scratching the back of his neck. “I was cruel and mean, and I want you back.”

“I can’t get back with you yet…”

Shouto sighs as he shakes his head, “Why are you stubborn? Why do you want to face this alone, y/n? Keeping me away is only hurting you, I’m trying to see if from your point of view, but every time I only see it as you protecting me. I don’t need you to--”

You hated that you were so compelled and so in love with Shouto because your lips silenced him.

Your hands rested on his shoulders as if to ground him, and he held your waist to make sure you wouldn’t leave.

It was a passionate kiss, a kiss that somehow apologized to him, a kiss that told him you were in the wrong, a kiss that relayed how scared you were of the past that finally caught up with you. He returned it in full. His kiss forgave you, his kiss understood your worries but promised he wouldn’t let something as trivial as that make him lose you, and his kiss apologized to you as well.

It wasn’t a long kiss, nor was it that physically intense, but as you parted, your eyes remained closed for some time. As if you were overwhelmed with the message and emotions behind it, and you wanted to remember how it felt to have him pressed against you in such a way.

With a little more time, your eyes fluttered open to see Shouto’s still closed, his breathing shallow with his emotional high.

“Do you want to come in?” You ask, gesturing into your apartment.

His eyes snapped open, and you both turned to see the flowers and food that had been dropped during the kiss.

“Please?”

You let him in as the door closed behind you two, “I guess I owe you an explanation?”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Fifteen.

Shouto stared at your shocked face.

If your jaw went any lower, he feared you’d accidentally hurt your muscle.

The crowd that had gathered around the spot that was supposed to be private were all whispering as cameras shone on the two of you. Shouto cleared his throat as he finally asked: “Y/n, will you marry me?”

A ripping sob escaped your throat, and Shouto stood up off his knee in a panic, the velvet box ignored as he came to you, holding your trembling form as you cried.

“Y-Yes,” you cry as you slam your face into his chest. “Yes, I’ll m-marry you!!!”

Shouto’s lips curled into a broad smile as you finally looked up at him with streaming mascara, and his hands rested against your cheek as he whispered, “I love you.”

Before you could even respond, his lips connected with yours into a chaste, delicate kiss. Your hands gripped onto his biceps as you returned the kiss just as delicately. Not wanting the moment to end, and uncaring of the crowd, Shouto intensified the kiss, moving his lips fervently against yours as he draws you closer.

It didn’t matter that there was a crowd; in fact, the screaming only seemed to fuel Shouto on to continue kissing his fiancee, and you were not slowing down in this passionate exchange either.

“I love you.”

[the-silentium]

5²

Masterlist

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Words: 2770 words

Warnings: Swearing.

Requested by: @justalittleb1tcrazy​ & Anon

Hi! I love your work, and I have an idea/request if it’s not too much to ask :) i’ve been thinking about a continuation of the 11 Five fic (because I adored it) where the Hargreeves go back to 2019 like s2 and the reader is a part of Sparrow Academy and she’s slightly more edgy personality wise, or something like that lol

Hi! Just finished reading 11 and I sobbed so hard ngl,, would it be alright to ask for a part two?? Maybe it could be about how five goes on after wards, honestly I just need closure :(( it was so good,,,

A/N: Here’s 11 Part 2! Hope you guys like it! @justalittleb1tcrazy​, I already had the part 2 planned in my head, but you weren’t wrong with the Sparrow Academy! (almost) Also, the Sparrow Academy is totally OC, I didn’t go with the comics.

The days following your death were the most exhausting days Five ever lived. Between running around to gather his siblings and trying desperately to find a way back to 2019, losing precious time to sleep wasn’t even an option. He was running on the last bits of adrenaline his body could give him, the determination to find you back in 2019 and apologize profusely while holding onto you for dear life was enough to keep his body functioning for so long. 

When Klaus broke the circle to go fetch the cowboy hat, Five genuinely wondered if the homicidal rage was finally getting to him because the thought of murdering his brother with his bare hands seemed pretty enjoyable at the moment. His patience was running thinner by the seconds and the lack of caffeine in his bloodstream was doing nothing to appease his pulsion. 

As soon as the circle was complete again, the time-traveler visualised the right equations in his mind, warmth radiated through his hands and soon he jumped to the old mansion along with his siblings. 

For a second, Five let himself live the joy of the moment. He finally did it. His dream for the past 45 years was now fulfilled, by his actions the people he loved the most could live in a world where the apocalypse never occurred and will never happen, where they had a real future and where he could live the life he wanted back when he was just a kid in the skin of his now-adult body. 

He dodged Klaus’ open arms and closed his fists to jump to his bedroom, where he knew you were waiting for him to come back from the Icarus Theatre, but the familiar laugh bouncing around in the living room stopped his movement. His heart fluttered in his chest, his desire finally so near. He didn’t lose a second and jumped to the living room, his eyes searching for you excitedly. 

You were seated on the second floor, your legs between the railings slowly swang in the air, your eyes fixated on a book opened in your hands, its words bringing a beautiful smile to your lips. 

He didn’t recon jumping behind you, but next thing he knew, your back was facing him and you perked up at the soft old floor’s whine. 

“Five, you’re back!” The joy in your voice got him to his knees, the relief of finally being able to hold you alive and well in his arms was too much for him to handle. 

On an impulse, Five’s hands reached for your cheeks as you were turning your head to welcome him home, his desperation of the last couple of days showing through the not so delicate kiss he pressed on your lips. 

Stars flashed behind his closed eyelids, not because of the power of the moment like he expected but because of the powerful right hook you managed to land on his temple. Five fell on his ass, stunned, hurt and utterly confused. 

He opened his eyes to see you hurriedly get up from your spot and back away from him. He almost didn’t register the fear in your eyes before you tripped on a nearby bench and fell over. Always quick, Five jumped to your side and caught you before you touched the hard floor. 

“What’s wrong? It’s me, Five!” He asked, his voice laced with worry while his eyes searched your face for any clue of why you attacked him after clearly being happy that he was back. 

“You’re not Five.” You spat with anger. “Let go of me, asshole!” You jiggled in his grip, successfully freeing yourself without much of a fight, your words paralyzing him. It couldn’t be. 

His sibling’s footsteps along with their worried voices echoed around Five but none of their words reached him, his thoughts were way too loud for any sound to break through his mind. 

The answer was obvious. His siblings always managed to fuck up his plans, creating the biggest catastrophes everywhere they went and destroyed everything they touched. They had fucked with the timeline. They had fucked his dream. They had fucked his future. 

Just as Five thought he couldn’t be angrier, a new bunch of people joined your side, one particular brown-haired man wrapping you in his arms from behind and holding you tightly to his chest. The sight of another man holding you made his blood boil in his vein, the feeling reminded him of the deadly phase seven; homicidal rage. If you hadn’t gripped tightly the man’s forearm, Five would have definitely jumped into a fight he was sure to lose but needed beyond reason. 

“Who the hell are these guys?” Klaus’ voice broke the heavy silence of the room. 

The biggest one of the new group turned his head toward his brother and Five already knew what he was going to say. 

“We are the Sparrow Academy. I am Number One.“ 

Five’s eyes were still locked with yours, wishing for this nightmare to end or for you to break out of your act and confess that this was a very elaborate prank like you used to pull on him in your younger years. His salvation never came. 

"Shit.”

Five was surprised his family caught up with the events instead of being clueless as usual. 

Turns out their dad was disappointed enough of them during their meeting in the 60s that he adopted a completely different set of children instead. Five was sure that it wouldn’t hurt that much, knowing his dad replaced him, but it did hurt. A lot. After all he did to save the world, he was replaced like an insignificant object. Oh and to top it all? You fell in love with the current Number Five who can manipulate time as he willed. Out of spite, Five decided to call him Square from now on. 

The lack of sleep mixed with his jealousy was making him very snappy and on edge. When he was trying to stop the apocalypse the first time, you were the only one able to calm him down from his cumulated frustration and anger. You’d take his hand, lay your head on his shoulder and talk to him about anything and everything. 

Maybe it was delusional of him to think that even in another timeline you would remember him if he shared enough time with you. He couldn’t stop thinking that he was the original, the very first Number Five and that you belonged with him and not a pale copy, so he jumped to the kitchen where he knew you were making yourself a drink.

“Hot chocolate.” The sweet scent reached his nostrils and the memory of you showing him how to make it just like you liked played in his mind, stretching his lips into a fond smile. “You never changed.”

“I don’t like what’s bitter.” You shot him a wary look, clearly remembering that he jumped on you earlier. “I thought my Five made it clear, you altered the timeline. Even if another me was with you, I am not yours.” You mixed the hot water with the cocoa mix and turned to get what else you needed to make it perfect. 

You stopped in your tracks when Five showed you the vanilla essence and chocolate chips in his hands.

“Thank you.” You whispered as you took the items from his hands. 

“Happy to know some things never change.” Five stated, following you near the mugs. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw you shoot him a glance when he reached on the shelves for a cup. 

“Do you remember your past and future lives yet?” He questioned as he prepared himself a pot of strong black coffee. 

“H-how do you know?” He was proud that finally your attention was completely on him. “My Five doesn’t even know.” Five tried to ignore the pinch of his heart when you stated that he wasn’t yours. 

“I know a lot about you.” He watched the black liquid fall from the coffee maker into the pot, hoping it would work faster. “Do you remember the 60s?" 

"I remember the French Renaissance, the US colonization and a bunch of other lives but no, I never lived in the 60s.” You frowned, your eyes moving away, surely trying to remember if you really lived in that period. 

“You did, you simply don’t remember it yet. If my theory is right, you won’t remember the 2019 life we had because everything changed in the 60s and erased it. This means that you’ll most likely remember the 60s some time soon and only then you’ll remember our 2019 because it happened back then.” His heartbeat accelerated at the perspective that you’d remember your affection for him and everything would go back to normal. Almost. 

“So you think because I’ll remember my past life I’ll leave my Five for you?” You scoffed. “You’re so frickin’ arrogant.” You grabbed your cup and turned around, preparing yourself to walk away from him. 

“I’m not arrogant!” His frustration exploded. 

“Oh yes you are!" 

"I’m scared!” His voice broke, but he didn’t care. Your furrowed brows relaxed and the insults on your tongue died along with your anger. 

“Why?" 

"I’m scared that I’ve lost forever the person who’s the most important to me. I survived 45 years in the apocalypse for you. I stopped an apocalypse for you. And you don’t even remember me.” At some point tears fell from his eyes, splashing into the cup tightly encased in his hands. “I’m scared I’ll never get to tell you that I love you.” His voice was merely a harsh whisper but you heard it nonetheless. He knew. 

Your footsteps walking away made him close his eyes in agony. Just like the day he found your tortured body lying in a pool of your blood. 

“Stop being an asswad.” You muttered before leaving the room. Five’s cup exploded between his hands, causing shards to cut into his flesh and blood to pool onto the counter. A small smile adorned his lips, a new flame of hope burning into his heart. 

You avoided him like the plague for the next following days, exiting every room he entered and eating outside the manor whenever you could. He found it quite irritating but he knew you needed the time to think. You were starting to remember, he was sure of it by the small glances he received from you everytime you fled to another room. 

He finally got some sleep, his dreams full of the comforting warmth of your arms, sweet words were whispered in his ears while one of your hands lightly combed his hair with your fingers. He desperately wanted to stay asleep, to never leave you again, but life was cruel and he always woke up, the reality hitting him like a brick. You would avoid him, again. He would die inside, again. 

After changing into his newly bought day clothes, Five jumped into the kitchen, his too great need of coffee controlling his actions. He found you seated on the counter next to the freshly brewed coffee pot, a book in hand, a hot chocolate cup in the other. 

“Good morning asswad.” You said without lifting your gaze from your line. 

Five noticed your grip tighten around your book as he made his way toward you. He stopped centimeters away from your knees, his gaze transfixed onto your evading eyes. He patiently waited for you to meet his gaze before bidding you good morning. 

Your breath caught in your throat when he leaned forward, his arm outstretched to grab a cup on the shelve behind you. Maybe today wouldn’t be as bad as the others. 

He poured himself a cup full to the brim and carefully took a first gulp of his liquid addiction. He sighed at the taste, strong and bitter, just as he liked. 

“So I do remember it right.” You closed your book and put it at your side on the counter. Your eyes lifted to meet his, causing Five to almost drop his cup at your tired expression. “What am I supposed to do now?” You sighed and rubbed your face with your free hand. 

Five’s stress level skyrocketed. He knew what you were referring to. You were torn apart between living your present or allowing your past feelings to guide who you are now. He had wished the choice would have been obvious, that you would choose him without an ounce of doubt, but you were struggling. 

“My feelings for you were so strong that I feel them now a-and they confuse me so much. I never felt that for-” You stopped yourself but Five knew what you meant. You never loved Square that hard and he was glad. “But what we had was in the past and what I have with him is real.” Tears gattered in your eyes just as panic flowed through Five’s mind. 

“What we had was real! It’s still real now! You feel it and I sure as hell still feel it!” He put down his cup and softly placed his hands on your knees, desperation to prove his point showing in his eyes. 

“I’m just being overwhelmed by my past.” You shook your head as tears fell down your cheeks. 

“No you’re not. You’re panicking because you remembered me and fell in love with me through your memories. I’m the same man and you are the same woman and you know it!" 

A sob passed your lips and Five reached for your waist to pull you into a comforting hug. Before his fingers even touched your form, you disappeared. Stunned, he turned around to find you into Square’s arms, his angry eyes shooting daggers at Five. 

"Stay away from her.” He growled before disappearing with you. 

Five kicked the nearest chair, pissed off by the time manipulator. He could not fight with someone capable of slowing, quickening or even stopping time. He had to put his last hope in you.

Square stayed at your sides for the next two days. Five saw how his constant presence was getting on your nerves, you needed time alone and he was denying you that out of jealousy. 

Five was scribbling into his notebook when you walked up to him, definitely pissed off. Your hands were closed into tight fists and you huffed as you let yourself fall onto the couch next to him. You lifted your feet onto the cushion and hugged your knees. 

He wanted to reach out for you so much, although it was clear that you needed your space. He waited for you to start the conversation, apprehension eating at him. 

“They say ‘You can’t just give up on someone because the situation is not ideal. Great relationships aren’t great because they have no problems. They’re great because both people care enough about the other person to find a way to make it work.’” You took a deep breath before turning your head to meet his eyes. “I want to make us work. Like we always did." 

Five’s heart stopped. Not in agony this time, but in relief. Happiness overwhelmed his senses and quickly, he reached for you to pull you against his chest and keep you close while tears fell from his eyes as the stress lifted from his shoulder. Your arms snaked their way around his waist and for a moment, he let himself melt under your touch that he needed for so long now. 

"I love you.” He whispered the words he so desperately wanted to tell you in the 60s. 

“I love you too.” You snuggled deeper into his neck, your hot breath on his skin giving him goosebumps. “Thank you." 

"For what?” He frowned, genuinely wondering why you were thanking him. 

“You stopped the apocalypse, Five. You gave so much to save the world.” You pulled away, smiling at him brightly. “Thank you." 

Five realised that he was never thanked before for anything he had done for anyone. His composure melted and more tears ran down his face, the very first acknowledgement of his actions and sacrifices hitting him right in the feels. 

"I’d do it all again for you.” He replied with a broken voice, his throat constricted and tears drowning him. 

You pulled him into your chest after letting your feet fall on the floor, where he cried out of relief that you were still with him and out of exhaustion of everything he went through so that he could ensure that you and his family were safe.

[broadstbroskis]

four times your best friend ruined a date + one time he didn’t | mat barzal

a/n: once again, not the fic i set out to write this weekend, but here we have arrived! enjoy💜

the first

Look, no one has ever told you that you have a problem making your voice heard. You’re pretty chatty. Your voice carried. In fact, usually, people were asking you to stop talking, to lower your voice. 

Not on this date. Max from Tinder had let you say two things in the amount of time since you sat down at the table outside one of your favorite Mexican restaurants in Brooklyn: hello and your food order.

Your meal is good, as always, and the margs can’t come fast enough to drown out Max across from you. Each time you’ve tried to respond to something he’s said, he just talks louder. You’ve given up on this one. You’ll get a good meal out of this and never talk to this asshole again.

But then, you spot a familiar head of hair walking toward you on the sidewalk and you’re shouting out before you can help yourself. Like you can’t keep words in any longer and if Max from Tinder isn’t going to let you use them, you’ll just throw them out anywhere you can. “Mat!”

You almost laugh at your best friend, a 6’0 giant who often looked even larger, as he does a double take, but he is able to track down the sound. He grins when he realizes it’s you and he’s quickly by your side, wrapping his arm around you as you lean your head against his hip, the body part closest to him, and beam up at him. “What’s up?”

You nod over at Max from Tinder, whose face has soured, as he looks at Mat. “Just out.”

“We’re actually kinda in a thing right now.” Max from Tinder says to him, rather rudely, if you had to say. “So if you don’t mind,” He trails off, very pointedly, looking over at the sidewalk.

Your jaw actually drops at that, but Mat just grins and jumps the railing between the restaurant and the street. “I don’t mind at all, actually! I haven’t seen YN all week.” He yanks the empty chair over from the table next door and sits. “What’s new, babe?”

You can’t help but laugh at the look on Max from Tinder’s face as you answer Mat. “Nothing much, boo.”

“Seriously?” Max from Tinder asks, furiously, looking absolutely livid as he attempts to stare Mat down, who for his part, looks as calm as can be as he asks you how work’s been, what’s new with your family, what dumb shit your brother has got up to in his frat this week- all the usual things he’d ask you when the two of you were trying to catch up.

The final straw comes when Mat orders a marg of his own. Max from Tinder just stands up from the table and walks out the door. “What a douche.” Mat says, mildly, dipping a chip in one of the salsas on the table. 

“Look who’s talking!” You laugh.

“Sorry, what was that?” Mat feigns not being able to hear you. “A thank you for not making you sit here with him for any longer?”

You laugh again, pushing his favorite salsa closer to him. “Thank you.”

He beams back at you. “Anytime.”

the second

Ashley lets out a low whistle as you step out of her closet, fuck me heels carefully chosen from her collection to match the little black dress pulled from your own wardrobe. “Damn.” She whistles again and you flashback for a moment to freshman year, when she became your favorite roommate for doing the same thing the first time you went out together. “Where’s Kevin from Finance taking you?” You adjust the straps of the dress in her mirror as you drop the name of the expensive restaurant that your co-worker was taking you to for your third date. “Okay, yeah.” She laughs. “You’re putting out tonight.”

“Ashley!” You laugh, instead of dismissing her entirely. 

“I’ll expect a full run-down tomorrow.” She sing-songs at you, as you grab your clutch and walk out the door to meet Kevin from Finance in the lobby downstairs.

The two dates you’ve had with your coworker have been so far enjoyable- one to a beer garden on what has seemed to be the last warm fall day and the second to one of those axe throwing places with some friends- and despite the heightened atmosphere of this one, it starts off just as enjoyable with some easy conversation. Kevin from Finance orders a bottle of wine for you to split, and you commend his choice while you scan the menu for something to order.

For most of the night, you go back and forth, just crossing over what might be an acceptable line for flirting at the dinner table, but you both know where this is headed later. It was pretty clear to you in the way Kevin from Finance looked you up and down when he picked you up, in the way he caught you sneaking the same once over in return, how his eyes follow your tongue as it tries to catch a drip of wine.”

They darken as your cheeks flush and you try to distract yourself from thinking about where the evening is headed by taking another sip of wine, only to be interrupted by a surprise arrival. “YN?”

“Hey!” You greet Mat warmly, smiling up at him. “How are you?” He beams back at you, exchanging pleasantries. “What are you even doing here?” You tease. “Pretty fancy for an off day.”

“We’ve got a team thing.” He waves in the direction of the private room in back, which you had noticed was closed off for a private event, but hadn’t bothered to look into more. Maybe if you hadn’t been so distracted staring at Kevin from Finance’s biceps straining in his dress shirt, you would have noticed a couple of the Islanders starting to file in. “And you must be the guy she’s been talking about.” He sticks his hand out to Kevin from Finance. “What’s up man, I’m Mat.”

But while you’d mentioned that there was maybe a new guy to Mat, you’d never mentioned that you knew Mat to Kevin from Finance, and that becomes clear the second you look over to him. His jaw is dropped, his eyes are huge, he makes no move to shake Mat’s hand; it’s like he’s frozen. “I’m a huge fan.” Kevin from Finance manages, finally, after what feels like forever.

Mat smiles, much more trained in this kind of situation than you are, because you’re looking your date like he’s got three heads. “Always good to hear, man! Make sure you take good care of our girl, here, eh?” He pats you on the shoulder and Kevin from Finance nods, more seriously than you’ve ever seen him do anything. “I have to head in. Stop on over for a drink on your way out if you want, okay?” Again, a nod from Kevin from Finance, even as you just hmm noncommittally.

And then, things get weird. For as nice and chatty as he was before Mat stopped by, now it’s like pulling teeth when trying to get Kevin from Finance to say something. He won’t meet your eyes, instead looking between the plate that sits in front of you and the room Mat disappeared into. “Can I help you with something?” You ask, finally.

“I don’t think I can do this.” He says, shaking his head.

“What?” You snap, annoyed.

“I can’t compete with that-him!”

“I’ll make it easy for you; there’s no competition.” You say flatly.

Kevin from Finance shakes his head again. “I-you-no. There’s competition!” He stands, dropping his napkin onto the table as your jaw drops. “Sorry.”

After being fucking ghosted in the middle of your date and apologizing profusely to the wait staff for having to immediately bag up both meals (that you had to pick up the check for, these better be the best fucking meals of your life), you make your way over to the Islanders’s private room and drape yourself over Mat’s back, as best you can. “You owe me a lot of drinks, sir.”

He’s surrounded by a few teammates and wives, who all immediately burst into laughter at his protests. “How do you figure that?”

“Because my date left me here because of you!”

Mat winces. “I was perfectly pleasant!” He pauses. “Today. To that guy!”

“Sorry,” Grace bites her lip, like she’s holding back a laugh. “There have been others, that you haven’t been?”

“Well yeah, but that guy deserved it!” It’s too late; they’re all laughing again. 

“This time it was your general existence.” You tell him, moving off his back, but staying close when his arm immediately reaches to wrap around your waist.

“This seems unreasonable.” Mat pouts. “That I owe you drinks just because you decided to date someone too insecure.”

“Dude, we’re not paying for anything here.” Tito reminds him. “Just give the girl her drinks.”

“I always knew I liked you best.” You smile at Tito, who returns your grin.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see if you’re saying that later when I’m the one making sure you don’t fall all over the place in those shoes.” Mat grumbles, flagging down a waiter to take your drink order.

You grin up at him. “If you keep getting me drinks and make sure I get home in these shoes, you can have your Number 1 spot back.”

Mat sighs longsufferingly, like it’s going to be such a hardship for him, even though you both know that you’re the clingiest drunk who does absolutely anything that anyone tells you to and as soon as he drops you off in bed, you’ll be out like a light. “Deal.”

It’s not quite what happens-your clinginess extends to yanking him into bed and not letting him leave- but as soon as he settles next to you and you can curl up into his side, then you’re willing to listen when he whispers, “go to sleep,” as his hand moves to play with the ends of your hair.

the third

Can’t talk now. Have a date!!! You send Mat, after ignoring his FaceTime request, and then walk into the cute little cafe that Jake from College had suggested you meet at.

“Hey!” He grins at you, as you grab a seat at the table. “Did you find the place okay?”

You bust out laughing. New to the city, Jake from College had mentioned that he lived around the corner, and was still figuring his way around. “I’ve been here a few times before actually. I’ve been here long enough to navigate my way around pretty well.” You tease.

He laughs. “Fair enough.”

After placing your orders, you catch each other up on where you’ve been and where you’re at now. You chat about some of your mutual friends, gossip about whether or not you think Jack and Mallory will actually make it down the aisle, and talk a little about your families. 

“Yeah, so my brother’s frat has been-”

“Oh no.” Suddenly, Mat’s dropping into the empty chair beside you, throwing an arm around the back of yours, and there’s Tito slipping in across from him, not looking nearly as thrilled to be there. “What’s that kid up to now?”

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, ignoring his question completely.

“We were just grabbing a post-practice meal.” He says and Tito nods his agreement, but when you look across the table at him, studying his face carefully, he won’t meet your eyes.

“Okay.” You tell him, kind of annoyed that he interrupted what had been an otherwise good date. “So you’re going to grab your meals and go?”

“Well now that I know you have this big huge table…” Mat hints, and you’re all ready to tell him absolutely not, when Jake from College jumps in.

“Yeah, of course!” He says, and Mat grins. “I’d love to meet some more of YN’s friends.”

“Would you?” You mutter under your breath, dryly enough that Mat flicks your shoulder.

You don’t know what’s worse- that Mat, Tito, and Jake from College get along like a house on fire, or that after Mat and Tito show up, Jake from College barely says another word to you. Not because he’s so starstruck by their existence. 

Because they’re genuinely becoming friends. By the time all four of you finish with your meals, it’s like Jake from College has forgotten you’re even at the table, caught up in discussing tennis with Tito and making plans with both of them to play basketball next weekend with a couple guys they know.

When you part ways, he barely says goodbye to you, which is a slap in the face after the bro hugs Mat and Tito both get. “Don’t be mad.” Mat says immediately, when you round on him.

“Seriously?” You glare at him.

“It was a coincidence.” He says, maybe too pushy to be entirely true, and you remember the way Tito wouldn’t meet your gaze earlier, narrowing your eyes at him further.

“Right.”

“It was!” Mat insists and you really have no way of proving it wasn’t so you just huff back at him and start walking, knowing that they’ll be catching up behind you.

the twelfth

“What happened to I’m never dating another New Yorker again?” Ashley asks, watching you get ready to go out with yet another Tinder date.

You give her a look through the mirror. “Ashley, this one might be my dream man.”

“That’s what you’ve said about them all.” She advises. “And none of them have been,”

“I’ll just die alone then.” You tell her dramatically.

She snickers. “I don’t think that’s the case. I think there’s definitely a Non-New Yorker that is very willing to date you.”

You give her a look. “Oh yeah? Send him my way?”

“Hmm.” She says. “Don’t think I’ll need to. He manages to find his own way.”

“If you’re talking about who I think you’re talking about,” You say, fluffing your hair one last time. “Then I don’t think he’s willing to date me at all.” Not willing to watch you date other people, sure, that trend has become quite clear as Mat has crashed date after date in increasingly creative ways. But never once has he made a move toward you, or tried to ramp up his flirting game to anywhere close to where you’ve seen him bring it to girls he’s interested in bringing home.

For Christ’s sake, you’ve pulled the man into bed on multiple occasions- what more does he want from you to know that you’d be interested, if he was?

Ashley returns your look, through the mirrors. “I’m certain I am talking about who you think I am, and maybe if you would do more than just pull him into bed while drunk, he might do something about it.”

You can agree to disagree on this one. There’s been that, there’s been everytime you pout at him for ruining your dates, there’s been every function or event you’ve agreed to go with him to stand by his side for the entire evening in uncomfortable shoes and an uncomfortable dress, every smile you send his way. But you’ll digress the point for now. “Well maybe tonight I’ll be pulling Graham the Perfect Man into my bed while drunk.” You stick your tongue out at her.

She grins, stepping back from your doorway so you can head out. “Use a condom!”

Upon meeting Graham the Perfect Man in one of your favorite bars (with the best burgers), you quickly realize you might actually have nailed this one. His sense of humor is impeccable and he’s incredibly charming...or at least most of the time. He’s a bit of a one-upper, but you try to be positive about it and tell yourself that he’s just trying to impress you- who isn’t on a first date?

It becomes a bit frustrating because he balances it with his humor so well. Like when you start talking about summers spent at your family’s Jersey shore house, Graham the Perfect Man casually mentions his parent’s summer home in South France, but then instantly cracks a joke about red eye flights that has you actually crying you’re laughing so hard.

“Jesus, I could hear you laughing from all the way outside.” Mat drops an arm around your shoulders and squeezes in greeting.

“Come off it, you could not.” You protest, even as he grins.

“Guess you’ll never know for real.” He teases.

“Wow, are you rude!” You huff.

“Me? You’ve been sitting here, haven’t even introduced us.” You roll your eyes, but make the introductions between Mat and Graham the Perfect Man, which actually doesn’t go terrible until someone stops and asks to take a picture with Mat, which you snap for them politely, but does bring out Graham the Perfect Man’s one-upper.

“Hockey?” He asks, and continues before Mat even has a chance to finish nodding. “Can’t say I’ve got much taste for the sport. I was a baseball player. Starting shortstop for my college.”

“But you’re not anymore.” Mat says, kinda like a dick.

“Mat!” You hiss and he just shrugs, unapologetic.

“Just the history, the nuance.” Graham the Perfect Man continues like Mat hadn’t even said anything, and even you have to fight back a laugh on that one.

Mat just shrugs again. “Yeah, alright. Cool, bro.”

“Cool, bro.” Graham the Perfect Man repeats flatly, and you know what’s going to happen before he even stands up. “Yeah, this has been fun, but…maybe...another time.” And he’s out the door, just like your dreams of this maybe happening again, so you turn to your best friend, who’s just got the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

“Mathew.” You frown at him.

“What? Come on, that guy was a tool!”

That...is so not the point. “Stop ruining all my dates!”

Mat scoffs. “All these dates with douchy guys that you don’t even like that much?”

“Yes!” You cry, absolutely done with this game. “Because unless you’re going to do something about it yourself, that’s who I’m still going to be dating.”

“What if I want to do something about it?” Mat says, looking down and avoiding your eyes.

You laugh, hollowly. “Sure, Mat. I’ll believe it when I see it.” And then you stand up from the table and walk out without him. If he’s going to ruin your dates, he can at least grab the fucking bill. He can fucking afford it.

+ one

When you don’t hear from Mat for the entire next week, you think that’s it. He talked himself up some big game, realized it’s not what he wants, and now he was trying to back out of it without making things super uncomfortable. You figured you’d hear from him in a couple weeks, when he’d send you a meme he found, and maybe you’d just never mention that thing you said about him dating you again.

Nope.

Exactly a week after you call him out, he shows up at your door with a bouquet of flowers. “Uhh hi?” You look down at your sweatpants and oversized t-shirt. 

“Hi.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, as he hands the flowers to you. 

“Did um-did we have plans tonight?” If he hadn’t tucked the flowers close to you, you’re pretty sure you would have dropped them, still trying to make sense of this. 

Mat grins. “We do now.”

“Um.” You repeat. “Can I...change first?”

He nods. “Yep.”

“Okay.” You take a breath, starting to get your jumbled mass of thoughts together. “Where are we going?

Mat grins again. “You’ll see.”

You eye him skeptically, but he’s not budging on that, so after you find something to put your flowers in (today’s winner is...a wine bottle), you run into your room and start searching through your closet. Mat won’t give you any hints about where you’re going, fine, you’ll just have to take your  hints from him. 

Moving quickly so as not to keep him waiting too long, you settle on a pair of jeans, booties, and your favorite sweater. A quick brush through your hair and a couple swipes of makeup and you deem it good enough. It’s certainly as good as it’s going to get since someone didn’t give you time to shower.

Mat smiles though, as soon as you walk back in, throwing things into the clutch you plan on carrying with you that night, but he doesn’t say anything or do anything or even move at first. “Are you ready yet?” You tease, standing at the door.

His cheeks flush a little, caught staring, but he jogs over toward you, while nodding. “Yeah, let’s go.” As soon as you lock the door, he’s slipping his hand into yours, merely smiling when you look up at him questioningly.

“Now will you tell me where we’re going?”

“Nope.” Mat grins, tugging your hand to pull you to the right. 

“Come on, really?” But he stands firm, instead asking you something about your day, which lasts all the way until he pulls you into your favorite restaurant, laughing when you realize it’s the end point. 

Dinner is amazing and the speakeasy he leads you to afterwards for drinks is as well. You spend half the time grinning at the place around you, wondering how he managed to find someplace so cool and then backtracking that thought, because, yeah, of course, he did. 

Mat’s smiling at you when you look back at him, eyes never leaving you, it seems, as he swirls his drink around in his glass. “You look happy.”

“I am happy.” You tell him honestly, which only widens his smile.

“So you’d be happy to do this again?”

“Do what again?” You ask, feigning innocence, solely to mess with him. “I don’t actually recall you ever asking me to do this in the first place.”

He throws his head back in a laugh, that big one he’s got that you love. “Can I take you out sometime?”

You nod, smiling as he leans across the table toward you. “I suppose it’s too late to say no.”

“Can I take you out all of the time?” He reaches out for your cheek, brushing his thumb along it.

“Well you do owe me a lot of meals.” You tease. This might better than any date he’s ruined, but you’re not about to let him off that easy. 

“I’m sure I can work something out with you.” He mutters, practically right up against your lips, before kissing you completely.

[illfoandillfie]

If it's ok to ask, and if you like the idea, maybe a blurb where Roger, your friend/flatmate, finds your porn collection. Maybe its a set of playgirls? Or cinefilms? As its the 70s. At first you think hes going to tease you forever about it. He asks to prove how much better he is than any of those men. Thats how you become friends with benefits.

oh this was fun and also i might have got a bit distracted looking at 70s playgirls on ebay and etsy lmao

warnings: implied sex, talk of porn and sex toys but nothing explicit 

Blurb Advent: Day 18

You’d maybe never been quite as subtle about your masturbation habits than perhaps you should have been. But in your defence neither was Roger. You’d heard him more than a few times and walked in on him once when he’d forgot to lock the bathroom door. But at least you’d never gone rifling through his belongings and invaded his porn collection. What he got off to was his business. He, on the other hand, didn’t seem to hold the same standards of decorum.

 You’d realised something was amiss when you got home and found your bedroom door ajar, though initially you shrugged it off. Perhaps you’d just not shut it properly when you left that morning. Inside the room everything seemed to be in order so you put it down to your own mistake and set about unpacking your bag. Until Roger knocked on the door.

He stood in the doorway and flung a magazine onto your bed, “You can have that back, I’ve finished reading it.”

Confused and unable to remember loaning him any magazines, you turned to the bed to see what it was, only to whip back around to Roger in horror.

A handsome, moustached man stared out from the cover of one of your Playgirl magazines.

“Where’d you get this?”

“Bottom of your wardrobe,” Roger replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Why the fuck were you looking in my wardrobe?”

“I was trying to find that fucking vibrator you’ve always got going.”

“What?”

“Do you have any idea how loud that thing is? I mean our bedrooms are separated by a bathroom but it’s not like the walls are especially thick. And how often do you need it really? I mean, I swear it’s every bloody day.”

“Oh my god,” you hid your face in your hands, “Why didn’t you just tell me I was being too loud?”

“Yeah cause that wouldn’t have been an embarrassing conversation,”

“And what do you think this is?” you snapped, raising your head to glare at him though you couldn’t meet his eye.

“Oh this might be embarrassing for you but not me. Anyway, I figured I just steal the damn thing for a few days, give myself a week or so to go to sleep without hearing it’s infernal buzzing. But then I stumbled across your little collection.”

“I buy them for the articles.”

“Oh sure, I understand. That’s exactly why I buy Playboys too.”

“Fuck off, I actually do like the articles. They write about stuff relevant to me – forms of contraception and women’s health and the movement for female equality.”

“I really enjoyed that article in there called Everything You Must Know About Vibrators, is that what inspired you to buy your monstrous little machine?”

“There’s nothing wrong with women knowing how to please themselves.” “Course not. I take it that’s what the centrefolds are for too?”

“Fine, yes, sometimes I get off to the pictures. Like you said though, you get Playboy for the same reasons. So, you’ve had your laugh, you’ve seen my porn, now you can leave.”

“I’m not done yet,”

“What more can you have to say Roger? D’you wanna go through my favourite issues? D’you want a list of my favourite centrefolds? Dennis Ward’s shoot was particularly nice but nothing got the job done quite like –”

“Jesus, Y/N, no,” Roger held up his hand to stop you from continuing, “I just have one question. Have you ever been satisfied?”

“What?”

“Well, no offence, I’m sure they’re fine enough men and you have a rollicking good time looking at them, but none of them are really that inspiring are they? Some of them are….quite small.”

“Haven’t you heard? Size isn’t everything,”

“Was that another article was it? Anyway, I’m not saying I’m bigger than all of them,”

You blinked, completely baffled as to how you’d ended up here.

“But to me, as an unobjective outsider and as a flatmate, it doesn’t sound like you’re getting everything you need. I mean, clearly, the guys you’ve slept with in the past can’t have been much good if you’re buying toys because a magazine tells you to,”

“That’s not wh-”

“And I’ve flicked through a few of those issues” he jabbed his thumb in the direction of your wardrobe, “I’ve seen the articles about how to make your orgasms last longer and y’know tips for curing sexual hangups and I’m pretty sure there was an article just titled Good In Bed with a question mark at the end. So I really have to conclude that up until you bought your little friend, things weren’t so enjoyable for you.”

“You have no idea, I’ve had lots of good sex with my exes, I just happen to be single at the moment,”

“Well that’s obvious. I once heard you go, I swear, five times in one day. I mean, generally speaking it’d be at least once a day for you, wouldn’t it? Before you go to bed or first thing in the morning, just before you have a shower, while I’m trying to eat lunch, I could go on. So it’s fairly fucking obvious that you’re not getting much attention lately. And, as much as I hate to suggest it, I’d say that whatever you do when you look at these men, whatever you picture, isn’t really working. Certainly not well enough to keep you satisfied.”

“You can leave now, please,”

Roger kept talking even as you pushed him back out the door, “Do you think about them, even when you aren’t looking at the magazines? Think about joining them in their bed or by the pool or while they’re listening to music with their dick swinging about? Cause, Y/N, I can guarantee I’d be better than whatever you’re imagining.”

You stopped in the doorway, staring at him in disbelief.

“Think about it,” he shrugged, turning to go back to his own room.

 You closed your bedroom door behind you and leaned against it as you tried to process what had just happened. Roger had insulted your choice of porn and then hit on you. That was right wasn’t it? He’d actually implied he would like to have sex with you? You pulled your door open again and headed for his room, not bothering to knock before turning the knob and opening the door.

“Think about what exactly? You and Me?”

Roger laughed from where he sat at his desk and turned around in his chair to face you, “Why not? We’re both single, we’re both hot. I’ve been thinking about fucking you since you first got that vibrator. And I’m more real than anyone else you’ve got right now.”

“That’s crazy,”

“Alright, offer still stands though.”

You shook your head but didn’t move. After all, you’ve heard him too, groaning and breathing hard. And you had caught a glimpse that one time, saw what he was working with though you’d both pretended you hadn’t.”

“Are you going to stand there all night? Just that I’ve got some work to get on with, so,”

“Okay. Maybe I am a little curious. Not saying I agree to anything just yet but…how would it work?”

“I don’t know, we just fuck. Whenever we’re both in the mood for it, for as long as we’re both single and want it to keep happening.”

“Nothing else? No dates, no anything?”

“Love, if I wanted a girlfriend, I’d have one. I just thought I’d offer you my services, show you what you’re missing.”

“What if you can’t satisfy me?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Either, I’m going to wear you out, show you what a proper fuck feels like so you stop reaching for your vibrator every two minutes. Or we discover you’re some sort of insatiable sex fiend who can’t get enough and I might finally have a girl who can keep up with me. I can give you a test run now, show you what you’d be getting by agreeing. If it’s not good enough then we call it off, no harm done.”

You absentmindedly bit your thumb nail as you weighed up your options. Turn around, go back to your room and probably have a wank (without the vibrator) while you inevitably thought about Roger’s offer and wondered if you should have agreed. Or stay and get your answer.

“Okay, but this is the only chance you get. If it’s shit, we forget it and you shut up about my toys and my porn,”

Roger grinned and stood up, “That’s all I need.”

[trillian-anders]

therapy

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

warnings:  angst, fluff, mental illness, eventual smut && SPOILERS 

word count: 16k 

description: part 4 of 5. SPOILERS; DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THE FILM -- ransom’s therapy sessions during the assitant && four christmases and a little bit beyond.

note: so this took me forever and i was originally going to write couples therapy at the end, but it just didn’t flow as nicely. i’m probably only going to write one more part for this, but i hope you guys enjoy it. honestly. i’m writing this for you. 

session #1

“Court mandated therapy,” He scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest. “What a fucking joke.” He looked across the dining table at you, noticing how you were growing impatient. This whole situation, you moving in and encroaching on his bachelor pad, the house arrest, was fucking annoying. And now therapy. Your jaw twitched in annoyance, a tell tale sign he knew well.

“You’re getting off easy,” you would remind him, “I’m taking your punishment after all.” Taking his punishment, sure, and getting paid almost 210k a year to do it. There’s no sympathy there. You’re getting your money and his life goes on, almost, as normal. 

To be fair he was pretty fond of you. You were the only consistent thing in his life for the past two years as much as he’d hate to admit it, nothing would get done if you weren’t around. Not a damn thing. He’d never tell you that though. Especially not now when you’re rearranging his unused study for use of him and the therapist who would be arriving soon, setting out water, a couple snacks, and optimistically tissues.

“Just in case.” You told him. Ransom doesn’t cry. He remembers the last time he really cried, like really cried and it was when he was a kid. His father had laid into him for playing with his novelty golf clubs. Screaming, red faced, spittle landed on his own hot cheeks. 

He shook his head to rid himself of the memory. 

“I don’t want to do this.” He sounded like a child, whining. He knew. But to be fair, he really didn’t want to fucking do this. He watched you walk away towards the kitchen to clean up what you’d made for lunch. You’d only lived with him for a week, but it was longer than any other woman had ever stayed with him. 

It was strange. 

He felt his cock twitch in his pants as he stared at your ass while you wiped down the counter, catching crumbs. You hated him, he knew. Not completely, which he also knew, but enough that you’d never fuck him. Why would you want to?

He couldn’t resist, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you rinse the rag off in the sink. “You can tell them I’m sick, can’t come down.” Muffled into her shoulder. He really sounded like a child now, Mommy please make the bad guy go away, I don’t want to see him.

“This could be really good for you Ransom.” Her damp hands covering yours. “Go get changed, he’ll be here soon.” He was still in his gym clothes, sweat ring dried around his neck. He was sure he smelled pretty foul too, about thirty minutes later and a quick jerk in the shower left him a little more relaxed than before. 

The man was older, bald, glasses. He looked like he just stepped off the screen typecast as a therapist in a psych ward. Tweed. So much tweed. He started a tape recorder, “My name is Henry Dowd.” You had greeted Dr. Dowd with a pleasant smile and shook his hand. Ransom had immediately felt a vein of envy, you’d never smiled at him like that. “I’m fifty-seven years old, I’ve been practicing for just about 25 years now—“

“Fantastic doc,” Ransom sunk back into his chair, “Listen, what do I have to pay you to make you go away?” The Doctor froze, adjusting his glasses before leaning back in his own chair. 

“Do you often use money to eliminate things that make your life uncomfortable?” Of course he did. He immediately thought of you, sitting not more than twenty feet away probably unironically watching Forensic Files on the couch while folding his laundry. 

“I don’t need therapy.” Ransom scoffed, “C’mon.” He smirked at the Doctor, “You don’t wanna make this drive every week just like I don’t wanna sit in this room and whine to you about my problems.” 

“So are you admitting you have problems?” The Doctor asked, fingers meeting his chin. 

Ransom didn’t like this guy. Fuck this guy. Ransom stared at him in silence for a minute.

“What’s your plan here Doc?” Legs spread wide, sunk in the armchair, Ransom mimicked studying the man just as he was studying Ransom. 

“Hopefully we will discuss what in your life led you to murdering someone simply because you weren’t going to get you allowance anymore.” The Doctor was slick. He said it with an air of superiority. 

Fuck this guy. 

“You wanna know?” Ransom asked, sitting up and leaning forward in his seat. “You really wanna know why I murdered her [Fran]?” 

The Doctor’s eyebrow raised.

“She didn’t tuck in the corners of my sheets how I like em.” Ransom smirked. 

The Doctor hummed in response, taking a notepad and scribbling something down. 

“What’re you writing?” Ransom tried to peer at the legal pad in the man’s lap. Dowd lifted it away from his gaze. “This is fucking pointless.”

“Whether you like it or not I’ll be with you for an hour every Thursday for the next 104 weeks.” Dowd smiled, “Whether you take this seriously or not is up to you, but I’m sure someone as intelligent as you knows that you will get as good as you give. The whole reason for me being here is because you have no money, isn’t that correct?” Ransom’s jaw clenched. “So I’m not going to take your bribe, but you can go ahead and try next week if you’d like. Maybe between now and then you can think of something to talk about.” Dowd packed his belongings, shoving the tape recorder in a side pocket of his bag and scribbling once more on his legal pad before storing that too.

“That’s it?” Ransom looked at the clock. It had only been twenty minutes. Dowd smiled at him.

“I’m going to give your babysitter out there some homework for you in preparation for a week from today.” Dowd went to leave the room, “Let her know I’ll take a tea next time.” 

Ransom’s knuckles were white, fisted at his sides, he stood up from the chair a minute later, peeking out into the living room to watch you talk to the Doctor, a soft smile on your face. He wanted to hit him.

He wanted to hit him real fucking bad. 

He watched you gently place a hand on the Doctor’s arm and guide him from the house. “We’ll see you next week!” The door shut and the smile fell from your face, turning to meet his eyes in the doorway of the study. You let out a heavy sigh and rubbed your temples.

“You can’t try and bribe a court mandated therapist Ransom!” There was a fire in your eyes, it made his cock twitch. He had a brief thought about biting your bottom lip, “He can actually help you!” You continued as you approached, walking by him to clean up the snacks and water that went untouched.

“I don’t need help.” He claimed. You gave him a disbelieving look.

“You need help.” He felt his neck flush with anger. 

“Fuck you.” He watched as you walked away from him, not responding. “You need help. What kind of fucking person agrees to take someone’s house arrest huh?” He asked, following you into the kitchen. “You’ve got to have some kind of fucking issues doing something like that.” You’d slammed the tray on the counter, turning to look at him angrily. He was at half mast. 

“Why don’t you go out Ransom?” You seethed, “Go have a drink.” He could feel his face heat up, he’s not going to let you win this. 

“You know what?” He spat, “I think I will. I’m going to take my untethered ass out. Have fun sitting inside these four walls for the next two years you ungrateful bitch.” He could tell you were holding back, but he didn’t wait for the response, grabbing his coat and slamming the door on the way out. 

Later that night, drunk and speech slurring he slammed the body of a girl against your door. Rutting his sloppy hips against her panty clad core. 

He’s not going to let you sleep tonight. 

You didn’t deserve to.

session #8

“We can sit here for the entire hour in silence, just like all the others,” Dowd started, “Or you can choose to talk today.” Ransom wouldn’t meet his eyes. He was still pissed that you’d taken his phone so he couldn’t sit here and stare at it like he had been for the last few weeks. 

“He told me that you’re on your phone the entire time!” You had shouted, “It’s disrespectful.” He’d rolled his eyes heavily, “He’s gonna come back every week whether you do something or not.” You seemed brave. Your started putting your foot down more lately. Ransom wasn’t going to lie to himself and say he didn’t like it. 

He was itching to do something else, anything else. The beginning of the manuscript that sat open on the desk behind him and he was pretty pissed he’d been disturbed right when he started chapter six. He found that if he was stopped in the middle of a chapter it was hard to get back into the flow of it, the words pouring from his mind out onto the computer screen faster than he could keep up with. 

It was like being edged.

Ransom was into instant gratification. 

He could hear an old clock he’d taken from his Grandfather’s study ticking on the bookshelf to his left. 

“I see you’ve begun writing.” The Doctor offered, “Have you always thought about writing a novel?” Ransom’s jaw twitched. 

“No.” 

The Doctor gave him a forced smile. “Have you found it enjoyable so far?” This was a waste of time.

“Yes.” 

Scribbling.

“What is your book about?” Ransom smirked.

“Murder.” The Doctor hummed, 

“Following in your Grandfather's footsteps then?” Ransom studied the Doctor for a minute. 

“What did your Grandfather do?” He asked the man. The Doctor tapped his pen against the armrest. 

“He was a traveling salesman.” Dowd humored him. “Much more lucrative business before the internet and the home shopping network.” 

“Didn’t know I’d be good at it.” Ransom admitted gruffly, “You wouldn’t be a good salesman.” Dowd gave him a real smile.

“I would be a terrible salesman.” 

Silence for a few minutes more. The ticking of the clock driving an ice pick into Ransom’s brain. 

“Do you think he would be proud of you?” Dowd asked. “Your Grandfather?” 

Harlan wasn’t proud of anyone but himself.

Linda had built a real estate empire and he still wouldn’t give her the validation of knowing she’d done a good job. His last dying action was letting her know her husband was fucking someone else. What kind of father was that? 

Harlan wouldn’t have cared if Ransom had begun writing before his death. He would have dismissed him. Not even competition. 

Ransom scoffed at the man’s question, not answering. 

“So he wouldn’t?” Ransom felt uncomfortable now. He watched the guy out the corner of his eye lift the tea cup you’d gently placed beside him before they began and raise it to his lips. Ransom had let his guard down. The guy was playing with him. 

“His opinion doesn’t matter to me.” Ransom spat, eyes flickering over to the clock. They still had thirty minutes left. 

“Seems like it does.” The Doc rubbed his fingers together, thinking. “What was Harlan Thrombey like?” Ransom sucked his teeth, 

“Why? You a fan?” He laughed, his hand gestures to the bookshelf beside him. “I got a couple signed copies up there if you want one.” 

The Doc shook his head, “He must have been pretty distant. I’ve heard writers tend to be.” 

“You’re basing your analysis off of rumor?”

“Well, you’re a writer,” he smirked, “You’re plenty distant.” Ransom’s knuckles grew white at his sides, 

“I’m not my Grandfather.” He said.

“No,” Dowd assured him, “You’re not. But we all bear the scars of our own upbringing in one way or another.” The timer went off. 

“Time to go, doc.” Ransom stared at him as though daring him to continue, but he didn’t. He turned the tape recorder off and packed his bag as usual. Ransom didn’t raise to watch him leave, but he heard him through the open door thank you for the tea.

“We have a couple different kinds if you’d like something different next time.” He hated the sound of you being pleasant right now, especially to that man. The fucking prick. 

“No, no. It was perfectly fine thank you.” The door shutting and the quiet ramble of the tv. Ransom shot from his seat, walking to the bar cart he’d had you set up in his room, he poured himself two fingers of whiskey and shot it back before pouring four. 

He’d heard you clear your throat from the doorway, coming in to clean up the doctor’s empty teacup and his own untouched coffee. “How was your session?” You asked him. 

He felt heat creep up his neck. “Get out.” 

He could feel your eyes on his back, the rattling of the cups as you gathered them with one hand, your other coming to rest on the middle of his back. 

“Ransom, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” He slowly turned, taking a sip of his whiskey and grabbed your arm, the promise of never hurting you again that he’d made after his birthday dinner alerting him somewhere in the back of his mind. 

He attentively grabbed your arm in a soft grip, “Get out.” Whether it was a plea or demand he didn’t know. He held direct eye contact, your face held a flash of fear. Somewhere he would feel guilty about this. He’d released your arm and watched you walk from the room, casting him one more glance before he none to gently slammed the door behind you. 

Later that night he could swear he had alcohol poisoning. An angel had rolled him into his side as he’d vomited. She’d gotten him into bed, she’d even undressed him and was kind enough to leave a glass of water and two aspirin on his night stand. 

It must have been a dream, because his study was spotless the next day and the bottle of whiskey he’d sworn he’d reached the bottom of sat full on his bar cart. He looked over to you for a moment, hand holding the cup of coffee you’d wordlessly prepared for him, before entering his study and shutting the door.

It was your job, why would he be surprised that you’d done it? And why should he thank you?

session #12

“Let's talk about something else today.” Dowd started, “You’re not giving me much headway for your family so let’s talk about something you love talking about.” He gave a playful smirk, “Yourself.” 

Ransom rolled his eyes, cocking his head to the side looking at the Doctor across from him. The door had just shut and the prick was starting straight out the gate. It’s been four months and he hadn’t gotten anything out of this yet, other than being irritated and his monthly liquor consumption increasing exponentially. He’ll humor him. 

“Why not?” Ransom shrugged, sinking into his seat, resting his ankle on his knee. “Whatcha got Doc?”

“What did you like to do before the trial?” He asked, “Give me a day in the life.” Ransom traced his bottom lip with his tongue before starting. 

“I would wake up, go to the gym, come home, eat breakfast, watch some tv, go out with friends.” He shrugged. “The usual.” 

“Do you still have contact with these friends?” No. He didn’t. He jaw locked. 

“No.” The Doctor nodded. 

“So where does Y/N come into this day?” Ransom shifted in his seat. 

“She would work 9 am to 9 pm, Tuesday through Saturday.” He picked a piece of lint off of his pants. 

“And what does she do for you?” What do you not do for him? 

“Cook.” He stated. “Clean.” A smirk pulled across his lips, “Take out the trash.” By trash he meant whatever girl he brought home the night before a joke he loved but you hated,

“They’re real people with real feelings Ransom.” You would tell him.

“Does she do anything else?” Dowd asked. 

Ransom thought about the house arrest bracelet on your ankle, “She’s my assistant, so she does whatever I need her to.” He shrugged. 

“And how does she fit into your day?” Ransom shook his head, 

“She’s just there.” He gently bit the inside of his cheek. “She’s always just there.” The Doctor scribbled something into his notepad. 

“How long has she worked for you now?” 

“A little over two years.” Ransom fingered the handle of his coffee mug before decidedly bringing it up to his lips, he woefully realized that he could go for some whiskey in it. 

Next time, he assured himself. Next time. 

“Does she provide some stability for you?” The coffee mug clanged heavily on the end table next to him. 

“I’ve always had stability.” Lies. 

The Doctor took a sip of his tea, “But surely having companionship on a daily, consistent, basis must give you some comfort seeing as you no longer have contact with your friends.” It was jab wasn’t it. The friends not being there anymore. 

To be fair as soon as Ransom was arrested and the news of the will broke he's not surprisingly had no longer been invited out. His so called friends seemed to be surprisingly absent in his time of need, but he reasoned if it had been any of them in his situation he would have done the same. They all knew they were parasites sucking off of each other, he didn’t need them anyway. He’d found a new source. 

“Why are you making a big deal out of it?” Ransom snapped. “She works for me, that’s that.” The Doctor shrugged, 

“If that’s how you feel.” Ransom scoffed, shaking his head.

“It is.” It wasn’t. 

The two of you had been living together for four months now. He’d seen you wet from the shower. He knew what your perfume smelled like, distinctively. He figured he could pick you out of a crowd by scent alone. Everything you cooked tasted better than any food he’d ever had in his entire life. Sometimes when you were in an especially good mood you made these cookies with caramel in the middle and he’d eat three straight from the oven. Tongue being burned by molten caramel be damned. 

He found himself looking at you sometimes, like really looking at you. Your brows would pull in concentration as you read the pages he gave you. Watching how you always slowly clicked the pen cap, sometimes sticking the pen in your ponytail when you’d get up to go make yourself your second cup of coffee. You always had two. Every morning. 

He found himself not knowing why it mattered so much. Why your opinion mattered so much. His novel was almost finished but he had the feeling if you didn’t like it he would throw it straight into the garbage. Himself with it. 

There was something about it, the contact. You didn’t seem to mind so he began taking different liberties. It’d started with hugs. He cringed at the thought of him sitting in your living room when you still lived in that god awful apartment. The scent of the building a mix of different foods seeping through the walls that almost made him sick. He hadn’t known what possessed him to do it, but pulling you into his lap had been one of the most comforting moments of his life. 

He was touch starved he’d supposed, but it didn’t make much sense. He got plenty of touch from whoever was spreading their thighs for him. He had scratches down his back to prove it. Something was just different. 

He would feel almost high with his arms wrapped around you. God forbid there was skin to skin contact somewhere. He would get lost in it. Hugs turned into thighs pressed against one another on the couch. An arm slung over the back, twirling a strand of your hair around his fingers. 

“Do you feel like you’ve always had stability?” The Doctor brought his attention back, Ransom blinked twice as if in a daze. 

“Of course.” He shrugged, “I had routine before all of this. I did the same thing every day and while those things changed, I have a consistent routine now.” The Doctor scribbled.

“Have you always had a routine or is it something that’s developed over time?” Truth he told his routine formed the day you walked through his front door the first time. The constant schedule that you’d laid out for him, right up to you finishing the dishes and leaving at 9 pm on the dot. He would follow you out into his own car and leave for the evening. A bar, a club, a dinner party. 

“Over time.” He’d answered. He looked at the door, as though he could look through it and see you sitting on the sofa playing a game on your tablet, whatever show you were bingeing playing in the background. 

The Doctor hummed. The timer went off. The session was over. 

Tikka Masala. That’s what you’d made for dinner. He’d been smelling it for the last hour sitting in the study still typing, two glasses of whiskey in. Not enough to be drunk but enough to feel it. 

“Are you going to eat here, or the dining room?” His eyes met yours in the doorway, you looked so soft. 

“Here.” He said, not having room for much else as you disappeared from the doorway, reappearing a minute later with a steaming bowl and placing it in front of him. You lay a hand on his shoulder, he found his head tilting to the side to rest against it almost instinctively. 

“How’s it coming along?” You’d stopped asking him about the therapy sessions. He thinks he probably scared you the last time you asked but that was just fine with him. He didn’t want to talk about it.

 Any of it.

“I’m gonna have another chapter for you to read in an hour or so.” He brought a steaming forkful to his lips.

“It’s hot.” But too late, in his mouth, trying to rapidly cool it like an idiot, but fuck if it wasn’t delicious. He saw you roll your eyes at him and he turned to watch you leave. He’d found a small joy in seeing your ass in yoga pants. A skirt. Jeans. Sweats. Whatever you’d decided to wear around the house. His dick stiffened at the thought of grabbing it.

But he was a little tipsy. And he was getting tired. 

He just wanted to finish the fucking book already.

 session #26

Ransom was not having a good day today. He’d stubbed his toe getting out of bed, his cursing woke up the redhead who was still tangled in his sheets. She tried to pull him back into bed which caused him to yell at her. So she cried and angrily threw her clothes on cursing him all the way out the door. He got to the gym and realized he’d forgotten his AirPods and had to do his workout without music. Then to top it all off someone had the audacity to have all of this happen on a Thursday. Fucking court-mandated therapy day.

He irritatingly wondered what color tweed Dr. Dowd would be wearing today. The fucking loser. His wife probably cucks him. He’s probably got a fucking micro. The lunatic. 

Ransom was seething. He’d already snapped on you twice, but to be fair you’d made him eggs when he wasn’t in the mood for eggs and then you were really calm about making him oatmeal. Too fucking calm. What was your problem? Jaw locked as he paced his bedroom. He wasn’t coming down. He wasn’t doing a session. He didn’t fucking want to. And no one could make him. 

He was wearing a hole in the carpet when you’d knocked. His anger flaring. Why couldn’t you just leave him alone? Why did you always have to be right there no matter where he went? He wretched the door open, “What?” He felt crazy. Maybe he was. 

You were staring at him with what looked like vague fear in your eyes, arms wrapped around yourself defensively. “Dr. Dowd is downstairs.” 

“I’m not coming down.” You sighed heavily, looking down the hall at the stairwell. 

“Ransom you have-” Door slammed he stared at the other side of it. 

“I don’t have to do shit.” He screamed, locking the door and sitting on the floor in front of it. He felt like a child. His anger while still bubbling in his chest, was slowly ebbing away to a simmer. He felt like an idiot. He heard your footsteps disappear down the hall. Now he was fighting with his pride. He lay back against the floor, two vertebrae cracking as he stretched it out, staring at the ceiling. 

It was silent for a minute. Then two. Then three. His breaths evening out as he lay on the rug, he could almost imagine himself sinking into the rug, becoming part of the stitching. His body dissolving into nothing. Was this depression?

Ransom would swear he’s never been depressed a day in his life. He has everything he could ever want. Including his freedom. He’s always had nice clothes, nice cars, there was never a lack of sex or money. If he wanted something it was his. So why did he feel so shitty? Right now in this moment. He’s never stopped to think about it before he figures. 

Never stopped or tried to feel anything. 

And right now as he was imagining himself decomposing into the floor he reasoned it must be because of depression. 

“A lot of people get depressed, Ransom.” You’d explained to him once, “There’s no shame in it.” He’d been having a bad day, but those days just happen. He had scoffed at you for even assuming he was depressed, but right now he thinks you’re probably right. 

There’s something wrong with him. 

His book had just been published and it was doing well. Selling really well. He made the bestseller list this week. So there was really no reason for him to be feeling like such garbage right now. It was the only logical explanation, being depressed.

At least then he had something to blame it on.

Another gentle knock, “Ransom.” You voice called to him, breaking him from his reverie. “Dr. Dowd would like to come up and talk to you, is that okay?” Your voice was various, a little guilt formed in his chest. His voice cracked when he replied, 

“Yes.” His face felt hot and the room felt stuffy. You had kept the windows open with the nice weather you’d been having lately. Airing out the house, a candle always burning with a calming scent. Ransom regrets telling you not to open his windows. He wanted to open them, but found himself unable to move from the carpet. 

“How are you feeling today Hugh?” The Doctor’s voice came from the other side of the door. Ransom heard your soft footsteps retreating, the third step down the stairs creaking as you made your descent. Ransom’s heart began to steadily raise in pace. 

“Just great Doc,” He bit, “Can’t you tell?” 

“Are you feeling the need to harm yourself or others?” He asked, suddenly very serious. Ransom thought for a moment. Who would he hurt? You? No. Definitely not. Himself? He’s too vain for that.

“No.” His voice cracked again, why does it keep doing that? “No harm to myself or others.” The other side of the door was quiet for a moment more before the Doctor spoke again,

“Are you comfortable right now?” 

“Yes.” Laying on the floor felt great on his back truthfully.

“Emotionally.” What is that supposed to mean? The turmoil churning in his gut screamed at him. Playing dumb won’t help him here. “What happened today that you won’t meet me downstairs? You haven’t missed a session yet.” 

Ransom shook his head wordlessly. He’d been fighting the Doctor. Every week, skating around questions, not answering them all together. He felt an urge to let it go. To just spill everything that was churning around in his gut. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t. 

Maybe a little.

“It’s just a bad day.” That was enough. It should be.

“What happened?” There was a creak on the other side of the door. A settling sound. 

Ransom explained. His morning was just frustrating. One thing compounded on another causing his whole routine to be thrown off. 

His routine.

“Is it possible that all of this frustration and anger have come out due to your routine being interrupted.” Yes.

“Probably.” Yes.

Silence, then the doctor spoke, “You can’t change the world around you, Hugh. You have no control. You will never have control.” Something was tight in Ransom’s chest. Fists clenched. “The only thing you can control is how you react to the world.” Hands relaxed, he felt his eyes prickle. 

What the fuck is wrong with him? He shook his head. He felt out of control. He was completely out of control. He hated this. But maybe the Doc knew what he was talking about. Maybe this explains the disruption he’s felt. The anger that had ebbed away to a dull ache in his heart. 

“Listen, Hugh.” The Doctor spoke kindly from the other side of the door, “Routine is good for you, it’s good for everyone. It’s beneficial for us to stick to our routines, however, if something happens that we can’t control it doesn’t mean the whole day is ruined.” The fan spun idly on the ceiling, Ransom dazed looking at the steady rotations as Dowd continued, “Get off the floor and move on.” His eyes dragged from the fan to stare at the door. “Get on with your day and try to do better next time because that’s all we can really do, try to do better.” 

His hand met the knob and turned, shifting up to his feet as he met the sight of the older man on the other side who was leaning against the wall opposite the door. Ransom stared at him silently for a minute before opening his mouth to ask, “How?”

session #31

It was just there. Your wrist, open to him. And he wanted to kiss it, so he did. You’d stalled above him, hand still hovering where you’d just placed his cup of coffee next to him on his desk. He did it almost without thinking, gently wrapping his hand around your forearm and bringing your wrist to his lips, “Thank you.” He’d murmured, eyes not leaving the screen.

His second book has become much harder to write. He’d started three books. A couple chapters written for each, a path split. Where would he go? He was unsure. But the coffee you’d placed next to him that was made exactly how he likes it, it helped. A lot. 

After the soft kiss placed on your wrist, the one that he’d not realized he’d even done until it was over, you’d gently rubbed his back for a moment before leaving, “Dowd will be here in about an hour if you need anything.” Your soft voice as you left. He’d wished you would have sat down for a bit, but he knows you have your own routine to follow. 

“Describe your Mother to me.” Ransom scoffed, chest tight. 

“Getting right to it.” He joked, Dowd smiled and nodded,

“We’ve been meeting for about eight months now and you’ve yet to talk about her.” Had it really been 8 months? Ransom’s palms suddenly felt very sweaty.

“She’s…” Ransom shrugged, eyes drifting to stare at something, anything else but meeting Dowd’s eyes. “She’s a Real estate Broker. She owns a company that is fairly successful. She’s recently divorced my Father for his infidelity—“

“Hugh, what about you?” Dowd asked, “How was she when you were a child?” Ransom hated this. He didn’t want to do it. Why did it matter?

“She was busy.” He said simply. “Always working, on the phone, both her and my Father.” Why did it matter? Dowd nodded, scribbling.

“Do you have some good memories of her?” Ransom didn’t. He knew his Mom loved him. He was her only child. There were pictures, her holding him when he was a baby, red faced and mucus covered in birth. His first birthday, she was sitting on the floor in the background, Ransom in the foreground standing, smiling with a ball in his pudgy baby hands. A picture of them in front of Niagara Falls when he was three. But none of that he can remember. Not really.

What he can remember is his first Nanny. A blonde named Samantha. She was young and sweet. She used to make him pancakes with blueberries in them. He wonders now if she left because of his prowling Father. 

A different nanny, older had taken her place. He couldn’t remember her name but he could remember, vaguely, the crack of a ruler on his knuckles. His Mother had flipped her kid when she came home and seen them. Knuckles ripped open and clotted. 

She’d given him a Nintendo 64 for that. It still sits upstairs in the bedroom you now occupied. He thought and he thought hard before replying, “No.”

He’d felt cheap. “Every good memory of her involves money in some way.” He stated plainly. The Doctor had told him instances of money bought happiness didn’t count. Ransom had always been rich of course, money as a substitute for the love of his Mother, Dowd explained. He wondered if his Mother paying you to take his house arrest was an apology for his parent’s quick divorce. As if he even cared. 

“It’s okay to be hurt by her,” Dowd started, “She didn’t provide the love and affection a Mother should. Children need nurturing to form themselves as they mature into adults. The lack of nurturing in no doubt has affected you in some way.” Ransom felt uneasy. He didn’t like talking about this. But Dowd has told him time and time again, he’s not going to like talking about anything. Just try.

Ransom tugged his bottom lip into his mouth, looking at the empty coffee cup beside him. 

“Do you think that maybe,” Dowd started, “You saw money as love and when that money was being taken from you then you realized that you’d have nothing left?” The Doctor rubbed his own chin. “Murder seemed like the only viable option?” 

A chill ran down Ransom’s spine. A shake of the head. “I can’t do this today.” Dowd nodded.

“Okay,” he shifted in his seat, “What is Y/N making for dinner tonight?” This was how they had been cooling down. Every session since the one where Ransom has broken on the floor of his bedroom. A weekly distraction, bringing him back down from reaching his threshold. His hard limit. A little farther every week. 

“I think she’s making—“ Ransom shrugged, “I mentioned wanting chicken parm, so that’s probably what she’s making.” That’s all he did. He would mention craving something and you would make it. The ingredients ordered through the local grocery store’s delivery app. You kept him happy and fed. His pants felt a little tighter around the waist recently. He’d have to work harder at the gym it seems. 

Dowd nodded, “Sounds good.” He looked at the door that separated them from you. “She’s a sweet girl.” Ransom looked at the door as well,

“Yeah, she is.” The two sat in silence for a moment. The clock ticking. Ransom felt uncomfortable. Which wasn’t a new sensation in these conversations. He felt this sense of foreboding on Thursdays. Not that he didn’t when the sessions first started, but now that he’s actually talking in them acid was rolling in his gut on Wednesday night. The turmoil drowned in vodka sodas and a girl he thinks was named Bethany sucking his dick in the kitchen last night. His mind blissfully blank as she swallowed his cum. Her giggling mouth as her tangy lips met his. 

His cock twitched at the thought, thinking about where he’s going to go tonight. Thinking about the girl he’d be bringing back here. The anger in your eyes tomorrow morning as you hand him his coffee after the gym, bitching about throwing the girl out and not so subtlety telling him that he’s an asshole. He really liked that. Your cheeks flushed. Eyes in a steady glare. 

It’s what he deserved, he reasoned. 

He wanted you to hate him. Because you should.

session #52

“Ransom.” Your gentle voice called to him, your back was facing him, chopping something by the stove. 

“Yeah?” He called back, watching your arm move up and down, knife chopping steady against the butcher block cutting board. 

“Something strange happened today, and,” You paused, huffing quietly. He watched your back tense, “There’s a letter on the table.” It wasn’t uncommon for you to open his mail. You sorted through it daily and it was something, frankly, he couldn’t be bothered with. He only wanted mail deemed important, didn’t care much for any Christmas cards or invitations to parties. Not that much came anymore. 

The envelope sat ominous in the dining table. The top slit open in a straight line, white paper peeking from within. He picked it up, no return address. It reminded him of one thing and one thing only. 

I know what you did.

He felt his neck grow hot, the chopping had stopped from behind him. What kind of joke was this? It had been a little over a year since his verdict. A little over a year since he…

He swallowed heavily, opening the letter, the bold black marker bleeding through the page.

You took her from us and you got away with it. You sick bastard. I hope you burn in hell. 

And that was all of it. He carefully folded the paper back up, slipping it inside the envelope. The house was silent. No chopping. His hands braced on the back of the dining chair, he turns his head to look at you. You’re standing there in anticipation. For what?

Maybe he’ll scream. Shout. Bellow with anger so loud that the neighbor, closest one half a mile away, could hear him. Maybe he’ll break something. The four glass jugs that used to be five until he used one to commit arson. Maybe he’ll pull glasses out of the cabinets and shatter them on the ground by your feet. Maybe he’ll just collapse on the floor right here and cry. 

For once in his entire pitiful life, a strange feeling brewed in his gut. A sick feeling he couldn’t place. Later on in the session, Dowd would tell him it’s guilt. But right now as he places the letter back down on the table, he walks to the downstairs bathroom and shuts the door before turning the sink on full blast and emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

He grips the porcelain sides, coughing and sputtering. Eyes only watering from vomiting he’s sure as a choked sob echoes in the bowl. He spits, and spits again. Bare knees cold against the tile he stares at his vomit for a moment, before flushing the toilet and watching it disappear. The sick feeling is still there but he’s left with nothing but bile. 

He stands, taking two stumbling steps to the sink and washing his face. Swishing around some mouthwash as he stares blankly at himself in the mirror. He knows another feeling. He knows this one. Disgust.

Self-loathing.

His knuckles gripping the sink and white. If he were any stronger it would have shattered under his grip. 

He was in a state down with himself. Daring himself to move. Do anything. Move. 

You pathetic piece of shit. You fucking baby. You really couldn’t do anything for yourself could you? So fucking scared and worthless that you had to try to fucking kill someone to keep some fucking money? And you were fucking stupid because you got caught. You were so fucking selfish because you killed her so you wouldn’t get caught. 

You selfish bastard. 

You worthless piece of shit. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve any of this. You should be where she is now. Rotting in a fucking grave. Maggots feasting on your flesh.

You did this. 

His reflection looked pale. He felt sick again but all he did was dry heave. This was the worst feeling he’d ever felt in his life and he didn’t know what to do. 

A gentle knock on the door. 

“Ransom,” Your soft voice, “I have some ginger ale, it’ll help your stomach.” He hadn’t been as quiet as he thought. He unlocked the door, stepping from the bathroom. Suddenly tired. The glass was gently handed to him and he took a small sip. Eyes not meeting yours. 

“I need to lay down for a bit.” A mumbled sentence. You nodded. Gentle hands grasped his biceps, rubbing soothingly as his head found your shoulder. Arms wrapping around each other you both stood there for a moment. Not saying anything. 

He didn’t deserve you. 

He knows that now. 

“Has the family tried to contact you before?” Dowd asked later on that day. 

Ransom felt unwell. He hated this. “No.” He shrugged. He must have been a sight. Still in his gym shorts and sweat stained t shirt. He was sunk down into his chair, hand covering his mouth, eyes blankly staring at a spot somewhere in the room past Dowd. 

“So why suddenly do you feel this way?” Dowd asked, “You’ve not brought it up the entire year we’ve been talking.” A year since he murdered Fran. A whole year. 

“I just haven’t thought about it.” He said. Why would he want to think about it? Dowd hummed, scribbling on his legal pad.

“They’re never going to be okay,” Dowd started, “They lost a daughter, a sister. Someone they can never get back.” Ransom was sure that made sense, the loss of someone you love. But he didn’t love anyone. Only himself.

His heart panged.

He couldn’t reason at the time because if any of his family members died it wouldn’t make a difference. 

“What if someone had done the same to Y/N.” Ransom’s heart stopped, eyes finally looking at the doctor’s. “If she was working for someone else and they murdered her to cover up a scheme that wasn’t even successful in the first place.” Ransom’s neck grew hot. His hand at his side clenched in a fist. 

“I would be angry.” He reasoned. Dowd nodded.

“That’s what they’re feeling right now.” He explained. “They’re angry because you took her away from them.” 

Ransom’s throat felt like it was closing up. What was he supposed to do. He couldn’t change anything. He couldn’t go back.

“It’s a good thing,” Dowd assured him, “That you’re feeling this way.” Ransom felt sick. “This guilt, the remorse you’re feeling. You’ve come a long way in the last year Hugh.” Tears pricked at the corners of Ransom’s eyes. He willed them to stay put. “You can’t change what you’ve done. You’ve murdered someone, you took a life, for what was no reason. And you’ll have to live with that for the rest of your days, but you can try to do something for them. Anything. Nothing will ever make up for it, but you can try.” 

He didn’t want to. He wanted to go to bed. He wanted to sink into his sheets and disappear. Maybe he could convince you to leave him there until he just wasted away. That sounds nice right now. 

It was for no reason. Fran’s death. He could have just paid her off and gotten rid of her. There was no real proof that he’d done anything. The toxicology reports came back clean. His little switching of the bottle trick did nothing. Harlan skit his own throat. 

Marta deserved the money. 

He saw that now. And it didn’t matter if he’d been cut off or not because now he had his own money and his bank account was acquiring more every day. 

So what was it all for?

It seemed so important at the time. He needed to do this. He had to. He needed the money. More than anything in the world. He was so focused on the one object before him. Tunnel vision. He didn’t see the details around the edges. 

He couldn’t see the big picture.

What a selfish baby. A fucking coward.

This self loathing was all consuming.

He hadn’t left his bed in two days since the session. Since the letter. He knows you’re concerned. You check on him every once in a while. You trade out his picked at food and bring him fresh glasses of water. You’ve rubbed his back a couple times until he’s shrugged you off.

“Leave me alone.” Biting. He doesn’t mean it but he couldn’t stop it from coming out. 

He was angry. Depressed. He didn’t know what to do. What can you possibly do? 

It was snowing. The chill permeating from the glass. Contemporary floor to ceiling windows meant cold. It was falling in thick sheets, almost a foot overnight. And he was just staring at it fall. He’d been staring at it fall all night. 

A clinking of a tray. The gentle click of the door closing, you rounded the bed, placing down a cup of coffee and some toast, removing the dishes from the end table. 

“Ransom.” You whispered, brushing his greasy hair off his forehead. “You’re gonna finish this coffee, eat this toast, and take a shower before you come downstairs.” Your tone was authoritative. “You smell like shit.”

You sat there for a moment longer. He could feel you staring at him. He parted his chapped lips, “I killed her.” A whisper in a quiet room. His eyes red and blankly watching the snow fall. Voice raspy. “For nothing.” 

“Yeah,” Your voice soft and sad, “You did.”

He wrote a letter. Put in a clause on the contract of his next book. Nothing would make it right, but he apologized. And Fran’s family was going to get a percentage of royalties from here on out. 

He still felt sick. 

session #67

He doesn’t remember what it feels like not to be hungover. The self loathing was drowned out with alcohol. It was the only thing he knew to do. The bottom of a bottle felt very comforting until the next morning when his sticky eyes couldn’t pry themselves open. The sick rolling in his stomach as he untangled himself from the mess of limbs. A sweat slick body in his sheets. A girl he couldn’t recognize. Sleepy, stumbling, hand coming down to unstick his balls from his thigh as he found the light switch. 

Wincing and collapsing in front of the toilet to empty his stomach. Dizzy with it. Head spinning. He blindly reached for the clean blue towels you had placed next to the sink. Wiping his mouth and pulling himself up to brush his teeth, drinking water bent over, slurping loudly from the tap. There was a gentle relief to his body, like finally some water. 

He shuffled back into the room, not casting a passing glance at the woman still asleep in his bed and he dressed to leave. He’ll go sweat this out in the sauna and she’ll be removed by the time he gets back. 

He didn’t deserve you. 

You should just leave. 

He wants you to leave. He wants to be alone. Forever. It’s why he tries to make your job as hard as he possibly can. Never ending guilt churning in his stomach. The sickness sweats out in the sauna and when he pulls back up to the house the only car that sits in the driveway is yours, unused. 

You’re humming when he enters the house and his cock twitches at the sight. It had just begun getting warmer outside. You’d ditched your cozy cardigans and wool socks for sundresses and tank tops. The appreciation shows. He adjusts himself in his shorts as he passes you, the knowing hand wordlessly giving him a cup of coffee made exactly how he likes it. He appreciates you. The comfort he’d not felt with anyone else. 

He had a roommate in college. 

A guy he had been friends with up until the trial. Another rich boy. Just like him. His name was Jeremy. 

Ransom hated living with him. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the guy, he just liked his own space. Heading off to college he thought his parents would splurge for a private apartment. He remembered being so angry when the three of them arrived and he found out that they booked him on campus housing with another fucking kid. Furious. He didn’t talk to his parents for the first half of the semester. Not until they withheld his money and forced him to contact them. 

This was intimacy. 

He’d read that in a book. Dowd had recommended some to him. At first he’d scoffed about ‘self-help’ books, but Dowd convinced him that he’s the only person that could really help himself in the end. It didn’t help that Dowd had handed you the list and you’d bought all of them. You’d been reading them too. A quiet understanding that Ransom’s pride was still fragile and neither of you would talk about what you’d read, but just knowing that you’ve both read the same words. You’ve learned the same things. 

Whether you put them into practice or not was another story. 

But he knew this was intimacy. 

It didn’t have to be romantic intimacy. There was a familiar soft intimacy. Just from knowing each other. Truth be told you were the longest relationship he’d ever had. Even if it was just a boss/employee… but sort of friend relationship. You knew him. You really knew him. More than even his own parents. You knew when he wanted to be touched and when he wanted to be left alone. You knew his routine and every variation of it. You knew what he liked to eat. You anticipated each and every one of his needs. 

And he didn’t deserve it. 

You were too good for him. 

That was in all of his thoughts. 

Every time you handed him a cup of coffee. Even a second cup when mentally he had been debating having a second. You’d bake cookies or brownies or these cinnamon buns just when his sweet tooth was really kicking in. You knew every craving. He swears you could even sense when he was getting sick. An extra order of tissues, ginger ale, and cough drops delivered to the house a day before he’d even started coughing. 

He should treat you better. 

That’s what he thinks while he fucks his fist in the shower. Hand slapped against the tile, soft groans as he thrusts his hips into his soaped up hand, thinking about how all he really wants to do is bend you over the sink. 

He imagines it, your perfect ass, panties pulled to the side. 

As he cums he can’t help but feel the emptiness he feels every night. The vacancy of emotion that leaves his mind void and desolate. 

He writes three chapters that day. 

“How do you feel about medication?” Dowd asks. The room is quiet. It’s been very quiet this session, Ransom wasn’t feeling very talkative lately. 

“I’m not fucking crazy.” He scoffed. Dowd shook his head, 

“No, but you’re depressed.” Dowd explained. “Medication will help with your moods, make you more level.” Ransom nodded, sighing heavily. “The guilt may never go away Hugh, you have to learn to live with it. You’ve taken responsibility for your actions.” Ransom rolled his eyes, partially. 

“There’s more work to do.” The Doctor explained. “It’s not going to miraculously fix itself overnight, but medication will at least make it a little easier to go throughout your day. Might help you rely less heavily on drinking too.” He knew. Of course he knew. Ransom wondered if Dowd could smell the alcohol still in his sweat. Did he know Ransom popped four ibuprofen right before the session? Did he know that he washed it down by taking a pull of whiskey straight from the bottle? 

You knew.

But did Dowd?

“I’m proud of you.” That caused Ransom to look up from his own lap to look at the old man sitting across from him. “You’ve come a long way since we first started.” Ransom shook his head. 

“I feel worse.” 

“Yeah, but you’ve made a breakthrough.” He explained, “The guilt, remorse, you’re feeling is a good thing. Even if you hate it.” 

“It doesn’t feel like a good thing.” Ransom whispered. He picked at the sweats he was wearing. 

“It’s not going to,” Dowd assured him, “Not for a while, but the fact that you even feel guilty means you’ve come a long way from being the self-centered narcissist you were when we met.” Ransom chuckled,

“I’m still a narcissist.” 

The Doc started him on an antidepressant and a mood stabilizer. The two pills waited for him with his morning coffee from that day forward. 

session #74

“You look like you’re having a good day.” Dowd smiled. Ransom was having a good day. He hadn’t drank a lot last night, had pretty descent sex with a pretty red head twice, you’d made him his favorite breakfast and had baked those really good caramel cookies he loved. You were in a good mood, so he was in a good mood. 

His mind drifts back to you singing softly as you pulled the cookies from the oven, he was trying to be nonchalant standing off to the side, stealing a cookie as you set the baking sheet on top of the stove, ripping it open, molten caramel burning the tips of his fingers as he shoved the sweet morsel into his mouth. Tongue scorched but worth it. 

The quiet hum as you rinse the bowl of cookie dough, his fingers finding your waist, pulling you against his chest as the soft rambling of music played in the background. The two of you rocked from side to side. The endorphins of skin to skin. The chemicals that flood his system giving him comfort. 

He didn’t deserve it, but he wanted it. 

He wanted it so badly. 

So he just took it. Your soft hands covering his as some acoustic version of a pop song played over the wireless speaker in the kitchen. Cheek pressed to yours, ever aware of your ass nestled softly against his hips. Innocently. So innocently. 

The light was soft through the windows and Ransom tried desperately to commit this to memory. The way it shines through your hair, the way it makes your skin glow. Your hands are so soft. So soft. He could almost taste it on his lips. Your skin. 

“Thank you for the cookies baby.” A whisper. You allowed it, him calling you baby. A soft sweet pet name for someone he didn’t deserve. 

“You’re welcome.” He had brought the plate of them in here, in the session. 

“I’m doing alright,” He breathes, breaking another cookie open, letting the strings of caramel wrap around each other as he shoved half a cookie in his mouth. “The meds are finally working, so…” He shrugs, “I’m not feeling quite as down.” There were still bad days, but this wasn’t one of them. 

“Can we talk about something hard today then?” The Doctor asked, “Is that okay?” Ransom was apprehensive. But… what could it hurt? Only himself. And he still deserved to be hurt so,

“Sure.” A sip of coffee and he settled back into his chair, resting his right ankle resting on his knee. 

“I want to talk to you about your family.” He thought of Harlan with his throat slit and a Mother who contacts him once a month. The last time she called him it lasted, according to his phone records, two minutes and forty-four seconds. A ‘how are you?--good, good--is y/n taking care of you--good,good--gotta go. Bye-bye.’ She resented him and Ransom knew that. She’d told him once, drunk of chardonnay that she never wanted to be a Mother.

It shows.

His Father was just as dismissive.

He thinks about the money clip. One that he was gifted when he turned 18 was a match to his father’s. He waved it around plenty of times. Ransom thinks back to the first Christmas you’d spent with his family. The fear, tears in your eyes as you stood there dumbly holding his registration information for the police who didn’t care after he’d slipped them a couple of Benjamin's each and they were on their way. The wad he had handed you from his own money clip silently begging you not to leave him, hoping you’ll return after your long weekend.  

Please don’t leave me. 

He didn’t say that, but that’s what he meant. 

“I don’t know how real people act.” He says, eyes not meeting the Doctor’s. “The whole family…” Harlan, Will, his parents. “None of them are real people,” Shaking his head. 

“Is Y/N real?” Dowd asks. Ransom nods, looking down at the cookies. A whisper against his ear. Comfort. 

“Yes.” He says. “She is.” 

“Have you learned anything from her in the past… how long have you known each other now?”

“Close to three years now.” Ransom smiled softly, really smiled, “The first year she worked for my Grandfather as a tutor for my cousin, Meg. The past two she’s worked for me.” He thinks about your apartment. The one you lived in with your sister. 

He’d only been there once. 

It felt more like a home and he thinks about how you and your sister acted together. You truly loved one another. The little bickering laced with affection. No fight was ever a real one. Not even when you were yelling at her over the phone, defending him for no real reason. He never understood why someone would say a house is not always a home until he stepped into that apartment. 

Yes, it smelled like the curry your neighbor was cooking and yes, it was for lack of a better word crowded. You would say it’s cozy. The furniture worn and much more comfortable than any he’d ever sat in. The way the two of you just steadily accepted him moodily sitting in the corner, in a chair, as their night went on. Even if your sister kind of hated him. 

You were kind. You were forgiving. You were welcoming. And you’d taught your sister to be that way too. Even if she was a teenager and hated everyone and everything. To be fair he deserved to be hated and he was confused, but grateful that you didn’t hate him yourself. You said you did, but he knows you didn’t mean it. Not really. 

You treated him like he mattered. You believed in him and supported him when he had the idea to write his novel. You picked him up off the ground when he was too drunk to walk. You gave him a shoulder to lean on when he needed a place to lay his head. 

You were compassionate. 

“I don’t deserve anything she does for me.” Ransom whispered into the quiet study. He shook his head, “She’s going to leave me as soon as the house arrest is over.” Dowd shook his head, 

“You’ve done something that is irreversibly wrong.” He stated, “You can never take it back,” Ransom felt the guilt pooling into his stomach. A rain cloud over a sunny day, “The only thing you can do is try every day to do a little better. Put something good into the world. Create something good.”

“Be better.” The Doctor nodded. 

“Be better.” 

session #86

He was trying. Really trying. A stipend from his books goes to Fran’s family. A monthly donation to Planned Parenthood and another towards a local domestic violence nonprofit. It soothed his soul somewhat, but still didn’t feel like enough. He started looking at houses. For you. 

You deserved it. When you left him. When you went back to your normal life. The normal routine. When he was left in his empty house, alone again. Like he wanted. Like he deserved. He was meeting a realtor for lunch tomorrow, but his hobby lately has been browsing house sites looking for a house for you. 

Some were too big, some too small. Some too modern, some too old. 

Nothing really fit you. Not really. 

“Ransom,” You called from the living room, “Are you hungry?” 

A few clicks and his computer screen was back on a word document. You poked your head into the study a minute later, a sandwich, cheese toasted on the bread, melted ham and swiss. A sliced apple and the sweet grapes you’d been craving that he had brought home yesterday and two little cinnamon sugar dusted cookies. A glass of water. 

“Yeah,” He smiled. You placed the dish next to him, peering over his shoulder at the words typed on the page. “Thank you.” Always thank you, always please. Please love me, please care about me, please, please, I’m trying to be a good person. Please see that. A kiss to your wrist, arms wrapped around his shoulders, chin resting there. 

“How’s it going?” You ask. He rubs the bare skin of your arm with his thumb, sighing,

“It’s getting there.” He typed a few more words, flipping through two different word documents. “I’m not sure which story I want to work on, I’m kind of stuck here.” He felt you nod, silently scanning the open page before you before laying a hand over his on the mouse and clicking over to the other one. 

“You’re a little farther on this one I think.” It was a story about a situation similar to his own, yet very different. A woman in it that may or may not be referenced heavily by the woman beside him. By you. Who's to say?  All likeness to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. 

“Do you like this one?” He asked. You had to. Your opinion matters the most. Say the word and he’ll delete the whole thing right now. He felt pathetic. What kind of man was he? Definitely not his father, never his father. 

“I do,” He could feel your grin, “You should finish this one next.” He didn’t know what to do with you. Half of him knew you would never love him, not the way he wanted you to. Those girls he buried himself in every night were proof of that. He started imagining they were you, lusty and breathless. 

He could never do that to you. Ruin yourself with him. He just couldn’t. 

“Thank you for lunch.” Another kiss to your wrist. 

“You already said that,” You laughed, melodic. His heart skipped. “Don’t forget you have therapy later.” How could he?

“I won’t.” A bite into his sandwich and he was back looking at houses. Maybe he could find a fixer upper. Dowd said he needed a hobby, right? 

“What’s on your mind today Hugh?” Dowd was in a good mood. Not that he wasn’t always in a good mood, but today he was in a very good mood. He showed up to the session and very unprofessionally showed you pictures of his newborn grandchild. A little rosy cheeked, baby girl named Ellie. Ransom admired how your eyes softened and lips pulled into a bright smile. He wished you would smile at him like that. 

“I’m gonna buy a house.” Giddy almost. “Fix it up.” He nods, “My hobby right? Work with my hands.” Dowd looked at him skeptically. 

“That’s a lot of work,” He laughed, “Have you ever lifted a hammer?” Ransom shrugged. 

“Can’t be that hard.” It would be… very hard. But he’ll find that out later. “Lots of people do it, right?” Dowd gave a weird grin. 

“Yeah but most of them have had some prior teaching or are professionals.” Ransom’s mouth opened and then closed again, eyes squinting as he thought. Surely he could do it, right? He had to. 

It was penance. 

“I’ll figure something out.” Ransom took a sip of coffee, “I’ve been journalling a bit.” He said, pulling a leather moleskine from the seat cushion. He’s learning to deal with the guilt. The regret. He gets emails about how his contributions have been saving lives, women who need free healthcare, domestic violence victims that have been rehoused thanks to his donations. It doesn’t make it better, he reasons, the murder. 

But it’s penance. 

“Are you almost done?” Dowd asked, “With the second book?” The first book he’d published he had given Dowd a signed copy, he would willingly give him a signed copy of the second one too. 

“Yeah, just about.” He sighed, “A few more chapters.” Dowd nodded. 

“Do you want to talk about the self-loathing you’ve been feeling?” Dowd was perceptive. Ransom knew this, but the question still blindsided him. He wonders if you’ve mentioned anything to the Doctor while scrolling through the 200 pictures and cooing over the newborn in a hundred different outfits. Ransom knows you’ve seen it too. You’re perceptive too. 

“Not really.” Ransom answered honestly. It made Dowd laugh, “I know you say I have to learn to live with it, I have to live with the guilt for murdering Fran, but I don’t know…” He stared at the Doctor, eyes betraying the sadness he felt in his soul. The despair. “How does anyone live like this? How does anyone live after they’ve murdered someone?” The last question was a whisper, eyes glazing over and staring at the floor. 

He should have just gone to jail. He should have been in jail for the rest of his life, but he couldn’t. He didn’t. He’s not. He’s here. Double jeopardy. He could write a book right now on how he killed Fran, how he set up Marta, how he pushed his Grandfather to suicide and you know what would happen? Nothing.

You can’t be tried for a crime you were acquitted from. The jury found him not guilty. Only six people really knew the whole truth. The three detectives, Marta, himself, and you. The three detectives didn’t matter anymore. 

Marta didn’t matter anymore. 

He didn’t matter anymore. 

You never brought it up. The murder. Not unless he brought it up first. It was a hard limit. A line not crossed. You had to forgive him. You just had to. Didn’t you already? Did you hate him? Were you secretly seething with the fact that you had that house arrest bracelet on? Were you really only here for the money? 

He wouldn’t be able to take it, he doesn’t think. 

Maybe he’ll become a recluse. 

Everything is digital now, ordering groceries, maybe he’ll just get a maid to clean up once a week. You can go, take your money and leave him. It’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He will survive. 

It’s his penance. 

He watched you make dinner, Dowd’s words ringing in his ears, bouncing from one to the other, “You can’t hate yourself forever for this, nothing you can do will make it right, you’ve become a better person. An empathetic person, just be better. Every day, try and do better.” He thinks you’re beautiful. 

You’d asked him what he wanted to eat and always was his reply of whatever he’d been craving that day, but tonight he said, “Whatever you feel like eating.” So he didn’t know, but it smelled amazing. He’d eat garbage if you put it in front of him. Whatever it was, it was delicious. Some kind of soup. A couple of heated rolls straight from the oven and a green salad, drizzled with a vinaigrette you’d seemed nervous about. 

“I found it on Pinterest.” You had explained, “If you don’t like it--” It was delicious. Everything you made him was delicious. He didn’t care. 

“It’s good.” He said. He meant it. He wondered now, with less than five months left of his sentence, how soon after it was over would you leave him? And would you never want to see him again? Because he doesn’t know if he could handle it. He needs you. 

He really fucking needs you. 

session #95 

The girl came back. The one you had kicked out of his bed while he was gone. He told you he was at the gym, but what he was really doing was checking on the work done on the beautiful dark cherry wood Victorian with wrap around porch he’d recently purchased. He couldn’t fix it up on his own, that was the truth. Dowd was right, but he was working with a contractor and small crew. 

One day a week he would go over there and help them rip out cabinets or tear down walls. Not too many because the house, he reasoned seemed more like something you would like if it wasn’t completely open concept. 

He’d sat there, in the early morning light, watching the sun come through the windows. Dust filtered through the air from where they had sanded the floors, refinishing them. They’ll lay down the stain and seal them today. The windows caught the light perfectly. The sun rose and set over this house beautifully, glowing with natural light. You were going to love it. 

He was sure of it. 

A shout, stumbling in the gravel of the driveway, “FUCK YOU RANSOM.” A laugh drowned in his coffee. 

“What’s on the agenda today Ransom,” He watched you shut the door, irritated with him, “Because if I have to do that again tomorrow I’ll quit.” Lies.

You couldn’t quit. 

Not for another nine weeks. 

“Don’t worry,” He said, “I’ve got a deadline to meet.” It’s true. He did. Four more chapters and the book was done. He coffee mug in your hand. An emptiness in his heart with the realization of you leaving. Nine weeks. And you’re gone. 

He threw himself into it. He was going to finish it this week. The frustration he felt, he just wanted to be done with this book. He was over it, but he was so close to finishing. Doesn’t mean he’s not still a liar. 

He needed a fucking break. His head was pounding and you’d come in the office in thin worn out black leggings. When you bent over to pick up the pillow that fell on the floor, he could see the thong you were wearing. His dick was hard. 

A promise, “I’ll kick her out myself.” And he was gone. 

The girl he brought home, she looked a bit like you. Enough like you when she rubbed her ass against his lap that he’d drug her home. Her lips were attached to his neck. He could imagine her as you. Faintly. Almost. 

He felt passive aggressive. He was sort of taking out the anger of not being able to have you on you, not realizing, or not caring? His back met your bedroom door, the girl moaning enthusiastically as her lips trailed down his chest, button down splayed open. Belt clinking and his dick was in her mouth. 

Fuck. Head hitting the door. He whispered your name in his head. 

He wanted you so bad. 

He wanted you so bad. 

He wanted you so fucking bad. 

He pulled the girl off him by her hair. He was going to cum too soon if he thought about it. He could do this.

As he lost himself in her body, bed rocking, hips swinging in a punishing rhythm, the girl’s loud moans drowned out the whisper of your name on his lips. 

You were a sight. Sleepy, red marked paper in front of you. You’d found the chapter’s he’d finished just hours before. The ones he had forgotten to give to you. Your hair was messy and your cozy sweater had fallen from your shoulder. He wanted to press a kiss to the exposed skin, but obviously he couldn’t. 

“What do you think?” He asked. He watched you jump in your seat, hand pressed quickly to your chest. 

“You scared the shit out of me.” You laughed nervously, “It’s good,” You cleared your throat, “I’m not sure how much longer I can wait for you to finish to be honest.” 

“Let me see.” The packet was scribbled over. 

I think he did it, he’s an asshole. 

I don’t like her either. 

Ew, why would anyone ever say that to anyone else?

Add more detail here, I can’t picture it well enough. 

“What are you doing out of bed?” You asked, you rolled the chair side to side. It was cute. Endearing. 

“I told you I was going to kick her out.” She wasn’t happy about it. She tried to get him to go another round, but he felt empty. He didn’t want to. You were waiting downstairs after all. 

“And you couldn’t start doing this sooner?” He smiled, he liked that you hated it. It maybe made him think you could be jealous. In some universe. Maybe not this one. 

“I like how much it bothers you,” He answers honestly. 

“It’s annoying,” you snarked back quickly, “Worst way to start my day.” You were being funny. 

“That’s the only reason?” Ransom responds, he leant back in his chair, throwing the packet onto the desk. Please say you want to be with me. Give me permission here. 

“You’re such an asshole, you know that?” You scoffed, angry with him. Clearly. You made to walk by him, to leave the room. He reached out and grabbed your arm to stop you, softly. 

“If you want to take their place, just let me know.” A wink, a playful slap on his shoulder and you were gone. 

“Dick.” Reverberated in the office. A playful laugh. 

Therapy today.

He hadn’t slept a whole lot, four hours total. He was tired. And grumpy. 

“She loves you, you know that right?” Dowd said halfway through the session. Ransom was deep in his self-loathing today. Probably from the lack of sleep. 

Definitely not because each day got closer and closer to you leaving him. Definitely not that. 

He shook his head, “She works for me, she gets paid to be nice to me.” Dowd frowned. 

“You can’t really believe that Hugh.” Ransom shook his head, 

“I don’t deserve her.” 

“Men don’t deserve women,” Dowd said, “Period.” He laughs, straightening his tie. “My wife, we’ve been married for thirty years now and I can’t honestly remember life without her in it. She worked to help me get through school and now with my practice I’ve been able to let her do whatever heart desires.” He was smiling fondly, thinking about it. “She’s given me three beautiful daughters, we have a beautiful granddaughter now. A beautiful home, she can’t cook to save her life, but that’s what I’m for… she’s the love of my life, truly.” Ransom looked at the grey old man across from him, the Doctor’s eyes were misty. “She helps me run my practice.” He says, “I would be lost without her and I will work hard to even be close to the man she deserves.” 

“It’s just not meant for me Doc.” Ransom swallowed heavily. “It’s not.” 

He needed to get out of this fucking house. He couldn’t look at you. He got rid of Dowd. A little harshly. He felt bad about it. You looked up at him from the couch.

“I’m going out.” 

Was this love? Yes. He knew he loved you. He’s no a fucking idiot. But you were too good for him. Who forgives a murderer? Who? Why did you have to be like that? So fucking perfect. 

You were. So fucking perfect. This house he was fixing for you, the car he was going to buy you after the next book. You deserved all of it. 

You and your sister will be taken care of. You’ll never want for anything. You were talking about going back to school maybe, once it’s over. You could do that. He’d do anything for you if you’d ask. He’d pay for all of it. Anything. It’s yours. 

How does he resolve this? He doesn’t know. 

The donuts, the latte, and his mouth between your thighs a day later. He doesn’t know how to be a good man, but he’s going to fucking try, and try until he gets it right. Until he makes everything right. For the both of you. 

“I think you’re the only person I’ve ever loved.” You’re so receptive beneath him. He loves you so much. The only person he’s ever felt this intense affection for. Not even his own parents he’s loved. 

He buries himself between your thighs twice that morning. Panting into your mouth the first time, into your neck the second as he rocks his hips into your tight wet heat from behind. Ass nestled against his hips how he’s always dreamed, teeth biting into his thumb as the two of you lay on your sides. 

“I don’t deserve you.” He whispered against your neck. His heart racing from his recent orgasm. “I’m sorry.” 

session #104

This was it. The last day. Ransom noticed your ankle looked pale, empty now that the bracelet was gone. He would have to fix that. “What am I gonna do now that the dumb bracelet isn’t taking out my ankle anymore?” He whispered into your ear. The damn think had knocked against his ankle bone multiple times in sleep or during sex, enough to make him wince and comment on it multiple times. 

Your laugh was melodic to his ears. It was just the two of you now. His Mother stopped by with the same man who had placed the damn ankle monitor on you two years prior to remove it. She made a big show about staying for breakfast. 

“So I’m assuming she’ll be moved out by dinner,” She had laughed, “She’s probably sick of you.” Ransom felt a little hurt by that, but his Mother also didn’t know the two of you were now together and ‘moved out by dinner’ was actually going to be him taking you and your sister to dinner and then to your new house that was just finished this morning. 

The two of you shared a look and agreed not to say anything. 

He dried the dishes as you washed. This oddly domestic moment giving him true belief that maybe this could work. He could have it. He could have what other people have and be okay. 

“I love you too.” You’d whispered into his mouth last night. You hadn’t said it back yet, it was the first time. Hands tangled in his hair as you angled his face down. “Please don’t hurt me.” He could never, would never. Not if he could help it. 

He brushed his hip against yours as the soft crooning melody played in the background. After the therapy session today the two of you were going to go pick your sister up early from school and drive down to the harbor. He wanted to take you both to dinner. Somewhere you’d wanted to eat for the past two years. A little hole in the wall Spanish place that had ‘the best ceviche and sopas you’ll ever have’ you’ve been talking about it for two weeks now. 

Things had changed a lot in the past nine weeks. And not just because the two of you began to have sex on a regular basis. The house seemed more calm. There was an ease now, a tension that had left Ransom’s shoulders. You seemed more at ease too from what he could tell. You’d begun showering him with more affection, sweet lingering kisses down his spine before you left the bed, a press of your lips to his as you enter or exit a room. Thumb releasing the tension in his brow when he was too focused on writing, a kiss wishing it away. 

The two of you fell into step as though this was a two year anniversary instead of a two month. 

It was nice.

It was very nice. 

“It’s good to see you happy.” Dowd said. “I’m very proud of you. You’ve come a long way in the last two years.”  Ransom nodded. He felt proud. He did. The guilt still gnawed at him sometimes. But he’d received a letter about a week ago. 

Fran’s Mother. 

Forgiveness is a tricky thing. And while the two of them would never meet, and probably never speak again. Fran’s Mother believed that God was telling her to forgive him. She thanked him for the royalty checks she’d been receiving in the mail. It helped with her husband’s increasing medical bills. But she will never have her little girl back. 

And it was his fault. But she forgave him. Just how he was learning to forgive his parents. 

Forgive himself. That was the hard one. He’ll be working on that maybe until the day he dies he thinks. Maybe. 

“She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Ransom explains. Dowd smiled softly, 

“And she’s not going to leave.”

“Yeah,” Ransom agreed, “She’s not going to leave.” Well she is, but not completely. He was an adult. He could start taking care of himself, but she was still going to technically be his assistant. 

“This is our last session together and before it ends is there anything you’d like to say?” Dowd asked him. The old man had taken on a new light for him over the last two years, Ransom really liked the guy. There was no doubt he helped him a lot, but it was more than that. Dowd was a good man. It was admirable. Ransom had never met a good man in his entire life. 

Dowd loved his family, his wife, he loved his job. He was a good guy and if it wasn’t wildly inappropriate Ransom would have loved to take him golfing. Maybe invite his family over for dinner. Maybe one day. Maybe once the Doctor retires. 

“I don’t think it should be our last session.” Dowd smiled at that.

“That’s exactly how you know you’ve improved.” The man assured, “Cause you’re nowhere near done.” Ransom should have taken offense to that, but he knew. He was still a work in progress. He still needed help, just maybe not as much as before. 

Dowd parted with a cookie tin full of those caramel cookies Ransom loved so much, but he was too excited to care. You were ready to go. You wanted to see your sister more than anything else and he was happy to take you there. 

He smirked as you ran into your sister’s arms. The fourteen year old was taller than you now, her face dotted with acne. She glared at Ransom over your shoulder. 

He deserves it. Honestly. 

Dinner was no better. The teen ignoring him completely as he sat awkwardly in the smallest restaurant he’d even been in. You’d spoke practiced spanish to the server and older woman he’d also seen flipping tortillas on the flat top in the back. You’d placed a paper plate with radishes, limes, and a mix of spicy peppers, onions, and cactus in front of the three of you. 

A mess of plates were served. This little hole in the wall served the best tacos he’d ever had. Acidic ceviche that he’d eaten scooped into chips, the second order he ate with a spoon straight from the bowl. He didn’t interrupt the two of you and your jovial conversation. 

Julia gossiped about a girl at school who was apparently a total bitch and everyone hates her, but she had secretly been dating another girl they went to school with and was now being super nice because she wasn’t closeted anymore. 

There was another story about a teacher who had recently lost a child that your sister and her club had been trying to get money together to help pay for the funeral, “How much do you need?” Ransom interrupted. 

Julia looked at him with wide eyes, almost forgetting he was there for a moment. “Uh… like we’ve raised almost $2,000 but we were trying to get a full ten.” Ransom nodded, squeezing a lime over his taco. 

“Remind me to write you a check before I drop you back off.” He felt your eyes on him, a soft smile. You weren’t going to spring the relationship on your sister quite yet. Not when she still wanted to strangle him. 

“That- You’re going to give me $8,000?” Julia asked incredulously. Ransom nodded, chewing and swallowing. 

“It’s hard to lose a child.” He offered, “It’s hard for everyone.”

“Especially the parents.” Julia bit. He deserved that. He nods. 

“Especially the parents.” 

He was nervous. What if you didn’t like it? He’d sell it he’d suppose. But you had to like it. He broke into your tablet one night and sent screenshots of your Pinterest saves to an interior designer. It should be what you want, how you wanted it. 

“Where are we going?” You asked. You had sat in the back with your sister. The two of you holding hands and talking about how homecoming went and how there was a junior guy in band who had asked her to the prom. 

“We’re almost there.” He pulled into a paved driveway, turning the corner he tapped a few times on his phone the dark house lighting up before him. He heard two collective gasps from the backseat. 

“Ransom, what is this?” You were confused, obviously. He exited the car, the two of you following. 

He stepped up on the porch, not answering. His heart racing in his chest. He dug out the small key chain that had been weighing heavily in his pocket, turning to the two of you and hanging it from a finger. “I know you hate expensive gifts, but I can’t let you go back to that apartment.” His mouth was dry. 

“Ransom.” You breathed. The keys were snatched from his finger, Julia moved past him to unlock the door, rushing inside. 

“Oh my God!” She squealed from inside. Ransom shrugged softly, hand still outstretched towards yours. 

“Please take it.” He whispered. A few seconds ticked by as he watched you decide. Please take it. 

“Y/N,” Julia called, “This house is incredible.” She was panting in the doorway, shoes already discarded. He watched you look past him to her, the smile on her face. And you took his hand. 

You’d been dating for a while when Ransom suggested couples therapy. Pretty much as soon as you’d moved in together. It was a nice break. Six months not seeing each other every minute of every day. He picked you up on real dates. You’d gone to real movies. You’d taken real walks in a real park. You had after dinner drinks at a real bar. One which you’d remembered he had ignored you in what seemed like a lifetime ago. 

Julia had just gone to bed. She had a soccer game in the morning. He’d suggested it while you were getting ready for bed. A box of his clothes sat still packed in the corner. The last box. One you hadn’t quite gotten to yet. 

“There’s nothing wrong,” He defended. “I just think that it would keep us in a healthy relationship.” And you agreed. He was happy you agreed. He didn’t want you to think that he felt as though there were problems. Other than him leaving his dirty socks and coffee mugs around the two of you hadn’t had much of a disagreement.

Yet. 

Dowd was kind enough to still make house calls, something Ransom was fortunate for. He was working hard getting his next novel out. Deadline coming on quick as the two of you sat in a session where the Doctor looked at you and said, 

“He’s treated you fairly poorly over the last two years.” Ransom felt offended. Dowd was supposed to be on his side, but he came out the gate swinging. It didn’t stop it being true. 

You opened and closed your mouth. “I wouldn’t say…” You rubbed your hands down your thighs, drying the sweat on your palms. 

“It’s not okay.” Dowd responded. “We both know him, we know how far he’s come.” He gestured to Ransom and Ransom nodded. 

“He’s right baby.” A hand on your thigh in a way Ransom hoped was comforting. “The way I treated you is not okay. I’ve made a lot of bad decisions.” You sat awkwardly. Ransom wondered if you were beginning to regret this. 

“But Ransom, honey, I just--” You looked so nervous, sinking down into the couch, your eyes fixed on Dowd. “You’ve changed so much, and you’ve never really been…” You gestured with your hands. “You’re a victim of circumstance.” You began, “I don’t believe that if you’d had loving parents you would have ever been in the situation you were in… not that you know, nature versus nurture and I just think, I don’t know, maybe... “

“It’s okay.” Dowd put a hand out. “Listen, this is a lot to start with and it’s okay. We don’t have to get too far into it. The next session I would like to have both of you write a letter to each other, something about how the last two years have affected your life. I think that’s where we should start.” 

Intermingling breaths and hips pushed into the kitchen table, loud moans echoing in the kitchen as Ransom sinks himself into you over and over. “So fucking hot baby.” He breathes. “So fucking hot,” He hitched your leg up onto the table, enabling him to go deeper. “You’ll do anything for me, wont you?” He asked. His snapping hard against your perfect ass, hands roughly gripping the globes, tinted red by the palm of his hand. 

“Yes,” You moaned roughly, “Anything.” Ransom moaned, reaching a hand down to steadily rub your clit, so wet for him. Only him. 

“I love you so fucking much.” He moaned, hips beginning to falter as you came around him. Pussy contracting, milking his cock as he released inside the condom, panting. 

“I love you too.” You whispered heavily into the room. Both of you trying to catch your breath. 

“Thank you for doing this for me.” His fingers tracing softly down your bare spine. “I know it makes you uncomfortable.” He watched as you pulled your discarded shirt back on, shifting your leggings back up your hips as he discarded his condom, pulling his sweats back up over his own. 

“I think it’ll be good for us,” You said, “In the long run.” He nods in agreement. 

“I would hate for us to turn out like my parents.” He whispered. 

“We’re not ever going to be like your parents.” You assured him, gripping his hand softly. 

“I don’t want you to resent me in twenty years.” He looked into your eyes, searching as you replied,

“You think we’ll be together in twenty years?” You asked. He rolled his eyes as you let a watery laugh part your lips. He pressed his lips tightly against yours, fingers tangled in your hair. 

“I sure as hell hope so.” 

The sessions continued. One a month. Each month. 

The two of you worked together to make this relationship work. You tried hard. You grew and you grew together. 

“I think we’d be pretty good parents.” He said once. A few weeks before the marriage proposal. It got the both of you hot for it. The idea. Not something you’d been planning on acting on anytime soon but when he was balls deep inside your tight wet pussy he couldn’t help but imagine you swelling with his child, breasts heavy, firm belly pressing against him as he thrust inside you. 

He was hot for it, always. 

And you were thinking of it too. You’d spin your engagement ring around your finger and stare at him wistfully, tongue coming out to wet your lower lip. 

You were riding him. Hips circling on top of his, panting and moaning. Your body glistening with sweat. Hands curled in your hair, back arched. “You gonna give me a baby?” You asked. He nodded, panting, he wanted to thrust into you but he couldn’t help but love the way you looked right now. Chasing your own release. Selfish. Wanting. 

He fucking loved it. 

You held his wrists to the bed, using your knees to rock back and forth on top of him as you pressed your lips to his. A whisper against his lips. “You gonna cum inside me?” You moaned. 

“Yes, baby.” He braced his feet against the bed grinding his hips against yours, rubbing your clit against his pubic bone until you were shuddering on top of him, moaning into his mouth with your release. You collapse against his chest, his arms coming to wrap around your waist, his braced feet giving him the leverage he needed to fuck you. His hips starting a punishing rhythm. The loud slap of his thighs meeting yours filling the room. 

“I can’t wait.” He breathes, “I love you so fucking much.” Your choked moans did him in, his release spilling inside you, not willing to let you go quite yet as the two of you stilled. The sweat covering your bodies began to chill you. 

“I love you too.” 

The wedding was small. Springtime. For months after the proposal and very quiet. Neither of you had very much family and fewer friends. A small group in your backyard. A cake from your favorite bakery. Promises of a bright future and a new life. Here, together. 

You’d feel the flutter in your belly a few months after that.

.

.

.

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[khaotic-kitsunes]

Mating Season

I almost forgot about the merman au, but hell, it was fun to read again and I had a couple of laughs as well! Hopefully you can enjoy it just as much.

Cheeky Kitsune 🦊💋

 “So, you’re telling me that every year, during spring…you get horny?”

   You couldn’t help but giggle at the mental image of your merman boyfriend trying to hump you, the very thought of him attempting it threatened to leave you in a fit of giggles. It was hard to picture anything like that happening between the two of you considering Mirio’s lower half was that of a Stingray.

 You recalled the time that you had asked him what sort of Stingray he actually was but his answer had been so obvious, you really should have been able to guess it.

 Mirio was a freshwater Stingray, the lower half of his body being a light brown covered in a dark ring pattern, completed with a rather dangerous looking tail spine. Which it was since he had soon after warned you that it was venomous.

   “Hey, are you even listening to me?”

   You blinked quickly, flashing Mirio a sheepish grin before running a hand through your hair slowly, embarrassed that you had completely zoned him out while thinking of him.

 “Sorry, I was lost in thought I guess” You mumbled, giggling when Mirio let out a breath of what could only be frustration.

 “I was saying that yes, I do get horny in spring…but it’s usually at night since I sleep a lot in the day. So, I’m going to go now and come back tonight. If you think you can handle a night with me, come back after sunset” Mirio instructed, leaning up out of the lake to kiss your cheek, a challenging smirk on his lips. Of course he had to phrase it like that, now all you wanted to do was prove to him that you were more than capable of handling him.

   “Bye beautiful”

   With everything explained to you, Mirio swam off into the water, towards the part of the lake where a steady stream had formed the path of a river years ago, though where it led Mirio was certain you had no clue. It went into some unsafe lands, Mirio had advised you not to stray too far from your house in that direction, sometimes it was better to be alone in the house with no others surrounding it, than to go down that path.

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

   You felt a shiver run up your spine as two muscular arms wrapped around your waist from behind, the heavy weight of a chest pressing against your back, alerting you to the fact that Mirio had finally arrived.

   “So you came huh?”

   You couldn’t stop the giggle that slipped past your lips, his words sounding much dirtier in your mind than they were intended to, or perhaps he had intended them that way, it was hard to tell with Mirio sometimes.

 “Well, if you’re thinking like that then I hope you haven’t” Mirio chuckled, nipping along your shoulder slowly, his sharp teeth pulling a gasp from your lips, the feeling not quite painful but at the same time, it was enough to let you know he meant business.

 “I wasn’t expecting you to be naked and waiting for me in the water though, cheeky aren’t you (Name)?” He questioned, his hands gliding over your skin until they settled on your chest, his fingers beginning to brush against your nipples, rubbing them teasingly before pinching the now sensitive buds.

 Pleased with the breathy moan that escaped you, Mirio began to move the two of you closer to the short docks that was nearby, using the wooden steps to lean your body against so that he could rub up against you firmly, both of his dicks teasing your folds.

 “Wait…is that…Mirio!” You squeaked out in surprise, your eyes widening as you looked back at the grinning merman behind you, finding his amusement to be nothing more than irritating to you at that particular moment in time.

 “What’s wrong? Did I forget to mention that my species has two dicks? Compared to you humans…” Mirio trailed off, moving his lips to your ear, chewing on the tender flesh faintly, satisfied at the way your body shuddered beneath his touches.

 “(Name), I’m going to completely fill you with my dicks and my seed, all night long…and you’re going to love ever moment of it” He stated, his words blunt as he began to ease himself inside of you, inch by inch filling you until he was completely buried inside of you, your walls clenching around him while you struggled to relax at the new sensation, tears building.

 “That hurt huh? It’ll fade soon but you need to relax for that to happen” Mirio murmured, running his tongue down your neck and to your shoulder, decorating your skin with tender kisses in hopes to soothe you.

 Letting out a breath, you found yourself relaxing into the wooden stairs below you, using one step to prop your head up above the water without risk of getting water where you didn’t want it.

 You had to admit, his gentle touch did help you to relax, the pain of your first time quickly fading into a distant memory while his fingers teased your nipples mercilessly.

   “Better?”

   Not trusting yourself to speak, you merely gave a quick nod, pushing your hips back against his body, a moan slipping out and signalling him to continue with his plans for the evening.

 Mirio chuckled at your actions, soon moving his hips in a slow rhythm, helping your to get used to the sensation while he took his time exploring the expanse of your back with his mouth, biting and kissing wherever he saw fit, enjoying each small noise that you tried to hide from him.

   “You sound so cute (Name)”

   You moved your hand to cover your mouth quickly, suppressing moans as his pace quickened, each thrust of his hips increasing in strength until you found yourself rocking into the wooden stairs in time with his thrusts, the strange warmth of his body making it enjoyable to be out in the water this late, instead of the usual shiver inducing cold waters that would eat at your body until you could no longer bare it.

 “You like that (Name)? Tell me just what you think of my dicks while I fuck you, let me hear it, your voice” Mirio grunted out, his eyes glowing in the moonlight as you turned your head to look at him, a pleasure filled mewl slipping past your fingers.

 Before you knew it, Mirio’s sharp teeth were nipping at your hand, eagerly taking the opportunity to bite at each finger before you finally moved your hand, allowing him the chance to kiss you heatedly.

 You melted into the kiss, ignoring the odd angle as his arms dropped down to your waist yet again, holding your body tight against his, his thrusts turning into hard jolts, the tips of his dicks pressing up against your sweet spot, sending wave after wave of pleasure throughout your body.

 “So quiet…but I want to hear you, more than this, I want to hear every little noise you can make. I’m greedy (Name). So greedy, those noises. They’re just for me…they’re all mine” Mirio muttered, pulling his head away from yours so that he could roll your entire body, pinning you to the steps on your back while his hips continued to move, each thrust sending an overwhelming amount of pleasure through your system. You could feel it building up and you were sure that once the night was over, you would be completely exhausted, if you even managed to last the full night.

 “Mirio…come on, that’s embarrassing…” You trailed off, gasping out loudly as his teeth closed down on your throat, the sharp needle-like teeth sending a strange sensation through your entire body, forcing a strangled moan past your lips.

 “No. It’s beautiful, there’s no one around but us, so just enjoy this and moan for me” Mirio groaned out, his gaze meeting yours when you looked down at him, a blush settling on your cheeks as your toes curled. This man, it drove you insane how right he could be at times. It just wasn’t fair.

 Mirio let out a deep laugh at the way you bit your bottom lip, instead moving his mouth down to your chest, biting greedily at the flawless skin that was on display to him, his ears burning when your moans began to fill the area.

 He could feel it, you were finally relaxing into the moment, losing yourself to the pleasure that he offered you.

 Letting his groans mix with the sounds that left your lips, Mirio tightened his hold on your hips, thrusting harder and faster than before as he felt your walls clenching around his already throbbing dicks, apparently both your orgasms nearing for the first time of the night.

 “Mirio…Mirio it feels too good” You breathed out in a shaky moan, your back arching when his teeth grazed against your nipple, the pleasure soon becoming too much as you felt your body tense before a sudden, inexplainable rush of pleasure flooded your senses.

 Before you realised just what was going on, Mirio’s name left your lips in a loud shout of pure bliss. His hips rocked hard as your body sent him over the edge, his seed spilling from his dicks inside of you.

 Though he didn’t utter your name, the feeling of having your body around him was burnt into his mind, just as his touches were forever left in your memories, an unforgettable pleasure.

 “Fuck…(Name) you feel so good, it feels like you’re trying to get every last drop from me…” Mirio trailed off as he buried his head between your breasts, licking at the skin faintly while the two of you enjoyed the last of your orgasms, heavy breaths now the only sound in the area.

 “Shut up…” You huffed, moving your hands quickly to cover your face, not wanting Mirio to see just how much his words affected you, knowing full well that you would never live it down if he did.

 “Don’t be like that beautiful, we’ve still got an entire night of this left to go…”

[kindness-bliss]

New Beginnings Ch. 12

Timothy Thatcher x OC

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: none

One year later   Tim looked at apartments with his fiance as they walked around, Emily was everything he could dream of. She had a good heart, educated, loved her job, was actually his age and extremely kind. It had started just days after that night at the club where she approached him at a coffee shop over the book he was reading, he was impressed that someone else could enjoy a George Orwell novel like him. From that day on it was non stop texting and late night phone calls which eventually turned into dates and then sleeping over at each others places and one day he just said fuck it and got a ring at a shop and proposed. It was nothing special truly, he didn’t even get down on one knee which he kind of regretted but not really. He liked her, he liked her a lot but part of him knew he didn’t love her.    “Sweetheart, are you alright ?” Emily asked petting his cheek “you look out of it”   Tim shook his head “Oh I’m fine, just thinking about what would be best is all. We looked at all the ones on our list and you seem to be keen on this area, this the one then ?”

 Emily grinned and nodded “It’s perfect, it’s near both our jobs and it’s a 2 bedroom just in case after the wedding you know….”   He sighed as he stepped back “Em, we’ve talked about this dozens of times already. I said I don’t want kids, I’m past that stage. Us together is enough for me and you said it was enough for you as well, remember ?”  

 “I did” she nodded “It’s just a maybe, like a what if situation kind of thing is all. I know where you stand on children and I totally respect plus we’re both 38, that’s a long shot honey”

Tim chuckled lightly, giving a nod “very true, but just maybe let’s leave it at that ?”. Nothing about moving in with her felt natural, nothing. He liked her a lot but he knew he had rushed things. Everyone had told him it was too soon and that he was only doing it to get over Maya but even they couldn’t stop him from proposing. The second he put the ring on her finger he knew it was a mistake.   

“I just think it’s good to talk about it because though you know I wouldn’t ever create an oopsie situation, it can still be a what if” Emily explained “Plus you told me at the beginning of us that you wouldn’t mind one, just one”   

“I said that almost a year ago, things and people change. Right now what matters to me is my career and your career and doing our own thing” he explains

“Wrestling won’t last forever Tim” she says softly “I know you plan on doing it for as long as you can which is great but we both know realistically it’s a good 5 years left before you have to call it quits for good. You should think about life beyond the ring, when it’s all done for good and you don’t have to put your body at risk every single day taking all those hits. I mean, do you ever think about that ?” “Clearly I do if we’re moving in together Emily '' he let out a little more dry than he had intended. It was one thing get on him about stupid shit like him leaving a plate out on the counter or leaving a damp towel on the sink but his job ? No way in hell he’d ever let anyone try to tell him what to do about his career.   

Emily sighed “Tim, I didn’t mean it like that at all okay ? I just meant it in the sense that there’s life after wrestling, a chance-”   

“I’ve heard enough” Tim said shortly “I um I gotta go, I’m late for some stuff down at the performance center. I’ll see you tonight”  he leaned over and kissed her forehead leaving   

He put his bag down in the locker room as he got ready and nodded at Oney “You look all sunburnt, were you at the beach ?”   

“Maya’s” he answered, lacing up his shoes “She had a small get together yesterday on a boat to celebrate her 26th birthday. The sun got the best of us” Oney chuckled   

“It was her birthday yesterday ?” Tim asked changing his tone

“Not yesterday exactly” Oney shook his head “It’s this Saturday but we celebrated it early since we’ve got that pay per view to get ready for , it was why I couldn’t go to dinner with you and Emily. I went to Marcel’s because he was surprising her with that and you know she’s grown to be like a sister to me, I couldn’t miss it”  Tim simply nodded, how was it that already a year had passed by ? How was it that he didn’t even know her birthday ? “How is she ?” he finally asked

“She’s good, doing really well” Oney nodded “You know her and Marcel are just still boyfriend and girlfriend, not engaged or moved in like you and Emily. But I mean in a way you two are alike, you both just had your one year come up”

“She and Marcel aren’t like Emily and I” he shook his head. “That's comparing apples to oranges man, two totally different things. Why even bring that up ?

“Because it’s clear you still like her, do you ?”

“Yes.” Tim answered

Oney sighed, shaking his head “Then why are you engaged and moving in with this woman ? Why did you fuck up so badly ?” “I don’t know and I’ll never know” he shrugged as he left the room and stretched in the ring. All great questions he had no answers for. ******  Maya sat as she rubbed her forehead and sipped her water on the couch “Baby do you mind getting me some tylenol ?”   

“Let me guess, once again didn’t eat anything but an iced coffee all day ?” he chuckled handing her two pills and sitting next to her  

 “Haha very funny” she rolled her eyes, taking them “Just feel tired, I’ve been working back to back and it’s getting to me is all”   

Marcel shook his head and sighed “You’ve been so out of it lately, we went to dinner last week and you fell asleep on the ride there, I’m getting concerned Maya”

She held his hand and scooted onto his lap kissing him “I”m fine, just work is a lot lately. I just gotta get it together is all, schedule things out better. Plus, I still have energy for plenty of things you know. Loads of them actually…”   

“I like that” he caressed her cheek leaning to kiss her and groaning as he heard the doorbell “That would be Johnny and Candice who you invited for a swim”  “I know” she giggled as she got up “deal with your blue balls somewhere else while I show them around”. Maya got up and shook off the slight dizziness she had going to the door “Hey guys” she smiled “Come on in”  

 “Jesus you said house not mini mansion” Johnny said as he barged in and put the cupcakes on the table “Damn Maya, is this what taking off your clothes pays for, because I might just change careers”  

 Candice shook her head as she gave her a hug “You know how he is, thanks for having us over before the week gets a bit chaotic. I feel like I rarely get to see you because of how busy you are, how are things ?”   

Maya grinned and took her to her backyard and sat with her “Things have been great truly, work is great and well as you can see things with Marcel are also still amazing. He’s here a lot but we don’t live together or anything like that” she admits taking a sip of her water “I see in your face you’ve got this look, like you wanna tell me something but you’re holding back”  

 She looked up and grinned as Johnny sat in the middle of them taking a piece of cheese from the charcuterie board and chewed “So did you hear Tim’s engaged to that one Emily chick ? I mean she’s pretty but she’s not as pretty as you and she has a boring job not cool like modeling. She’s a high school teacher ,math teacher or something dumb like that, and I heard from Eli that she’s his age so you know old and apparently they moved in-”

“Johnny !” Candice exclaimed with wide eyes as she moved her eyes in her direction

“Wh-what ?” Maya said softly “I-I had no idea, I haven’t seen him since um that night at EVE but it’s been a year, come on guys. There’s no need to tiptoe around things, that’s in the past and good for him. He deserves happiness as we all do, really Candice it’s not a big deal”   Lies all fucking lies she thought to herself, nothing but lies. Yes it was a big fucking deal, how the hell wouldn’t it be ?. What in the absolute fuck did she miss out on in a whole year ? She was having success, her relationship with Marcel was perfect yet her heart still fluttered hearing Tim’s name. Not only was he dating someone but he was engaged, engaged.   “Sorry” Johnny apologized as he put his drink down “I thought you knew since you seem to know everyone, I thought Oney had mentioned it or Alli”    “It’s fine Johnny” she grinned weakly “Really it is, there’s nothing you need to say sorry for at all truly. People are allowed to move on, I mean we never even dated. It’s nothing at all, look Marcel’s on his way out let’s get in before the sun goes down”  “I got you a little surprise” Marcel grinned, oblivious to what had just occurred. He smiled and put down the box in his arms “I know you said no gifts but I thought this one would be great for you” With a confused look Maya stood up and  grinned , walking towards the box and opening it slowly, smiling wide as she pulled out a golden doodle puppy “OH MY GOD YOU REMEMBERED !” She quickly kissed the pup and jumped in his arms. For the last 6 months, she had been going on and on about how she was ready for a dog and wanted one so badly yet Marcel seemed off to the idea and kept saying how they were way too much work and not even all that cute. Now she understood why, and her heart swelled in size.   “I searched and searched the entire state of Florida for this little guy” Marcel smiled. “He's about 8 weeks old, and when I saw him I knew he was perfect for you...for us. But he needs a name, any ideas ?”    “Biggie” Maya smiled “As in Biggie Smalls ?” he laughed   “Exactly that.” Marcel smiled as he put his arm around her and pulled her in for a side hug “You, me and Biggie”. He kissed her head as he pet their pup’s head and smiled, though far off and not entirely true it felt as if they were family already. Just them and their puppy, together and happy.   

The rest of the night was enjoyable as she sat and listened to them talk about the big pay per view that was coming up, everyone going on and on about certain feuds and matches. She turned and looked at Marcel who was in mid conversation with Fabian, sending him a wink as she got up and headed inside using the excuse she needed to answer an important phone call. Like clockwork she heard the screen door lock shut and laughed “It’s that easy huh ?”   

“You’re the one who gave me a wink” he answered with a crimson face “I-I assumed, I...I didn’t mean to”   “You assumed right” she grabbed his shirt and pulled him to her as she took them into the guest bathroom “we have 10 minutes max before someone realizes we’re missing so make it last”  

 Without losing any time Marcel lifted her onto the sink and slid off her shorts, rubbing at her core as he licked his lips “fuck you feel so wet already” he whispered getting a moan in response from her

“You talk entirely too much” she kissed him ,leaning her head back against the cabinet mirror gripping the back of his neck with her hands as she bit her lip to keep quiet   

“Fuck Maya” he mumbled as he began thrust in and out “you always feel so fucking good”

She whimpered in response “Baby….Baby please”

“You like that, I know you do” Marcel pumped into her with force, nuzzling his face in her neck as he did his best to keep his moans low, tightening his grip on her hips   

“I...wow” Maya panted as they finished, him still inside of her as she looked into his eyes “You do things to me you know, lots of things”

“And I always will” Marcel grinned as he wiped his forehead and kissed her lips softly “as long as you let me” “You’re so corny, you go out first so no one assumes” she chuckled as she closed the door and fixed her makeup. She opened a drawer to look for a brush, sighing as she picked up her birth control packet that had fallen.“Every time” Maya muttered as she put it away, feeling it slightly heavier than usual and opening the pack. With a shaky breath she slipped the packet out of the sleeve and widened her eyes when she saw 7 days of pills still in their spot, she had missed a whole week of birth control in the last month ***** “Would you just tell me what’s going on ?” Tim asked as he sat on the couch with Emily “it’s been a week and you’ve been quiet, you even missed a day of work which you never do. What on earth can be going on that has you like this ?”   

“Tim…” Emily spoke, her voice small and meek “Please don’t be mad at me, please. I...I went to the doctor for those headaches and fatigue and she-she had me to a blood and urine test and told me....she told me I’m pregnant. I told her it had to be a mistake, I have a patch and we use condoms, but she said it’s only 90% effective and there’s always a possibility especially since my ovaries release eggs during ovulation and well...I’m 9 weeks pregnant” she cried

 His eyes widened as he leaned back into the couch, feeling the air leave his lungs as he tried his absolute hardest to stop from dry heaving. He sat, rubbing his palms on his thighs and nodded over and again trying to convince himself things would be okay.   

“Then you’re pregnant and that’s that, accidents happen” he said softly as he scooted closer to her and held her hand in his sweaty one “Was this what we wanted ? No. But it’s what we’re dealing with and no matter what I’m here for you Em. I...I….I love you”   

“I love you so so much” Emily hugged him as she sniffled “I never ever meant for this to happen Tim, I swear to you. I’m so scared” she sobbed into his shoulder   Tim rubbed her back and sighed “It’s gonna be okay. We’re both adults here and this is something like the doctor said could always happen. I’m with you all this way, no matter what, but I must ask” he sits up and looks at her as he peels away from their hug “D-do you wanna keep this baby ?”

“I do” she whispered “I do, and you don’t need to stay with me. You don’t even need to help I can do this all on my own”   

He gulped taking her words in as he looked in her eyes, begging for her to just push him away and say she wants him out of her life but she didn’t. She wanted to keep this child and no matter what he was gonna stick by her whether he loved her or not. *****

  Maya looked up at Marcel as they waited at the doctors office, nerves eating up at her as she squeezed his hand in her lap. Immediately after everyone had left that day she sat him down and told him she had forgotten to take her birth control for a week and had reminded him they never used condoms. Just like she had assumed he was calm and collected and assured her he’d be with her no matter what and that he loved her. She broke down in tears that night on his lap crying until she passed out from exhaustion, when she woke up she found herself in bed with him. Now here they were one week later waiting to do some tests to get official answers, they had both agreed it’d be best to get answers from a doctor rather than a test at the pharmacy.  

 She stood up as her name was called and walked in with him, doing the usual routine with blood pressure and weight and finally getting her blood drawn and completing a urine test for them. The minutes seemed like hours as she sat in Marcel’s lap for comfort leaning her head over his.

  “I’m scared” Maya whispered looking in his eyes ``What if I am and it ends like…like how it did when I was 20 ?” she finally says

 “It’s different times” Marcel assured “6 years ago you were a kid with lots of stress that caused that to happen, now it’s different. And if you are, nothing bad is gonna happen. And if you aren’t, then we can go from there” he kissed her forehead. More than anything he wanted her to be okay, for them to be okay and just put that past life behind them completely.  

 Maya nodded and pressed her forehead to his, jumping up when she heard the door open and doctor come in

  “A-am I pregnant ?” she whispered quickly

“No” the doctor said softly “You are not, your tests all came back negative, what you do have to look out for is your severe dehydration levels. Other than that you’re in great health, and to be safe I’d stay off sexual activity until you can start a new month of birth control, and please use protection” she grinned

  “Oh my gosh” Maya let out a sigh of relief as she watched his face go back to its normal color “Thank you so so much”

 “It’s your life and your choices miss” she grinned “No matter what, I’m here to guide advice for whatever you need health related.”   

Maya let out a nervous laugh as she held hands with Marcel and walked out of the office, giggling when he spun her around in his arms

  “I love kids and can’t wait to have the, but this just wasn’t the right time” Marcel said softly as he kissed her “But our time will come soon, really soon”

“Sooner than later” she smiled as he set her down and walked down the hall with him, pressing the elevator button. She hummed happily as it dinged, gulping as it opened revealing Tim hand in hand with who she supposed was Emily with a barely there baby bump. She was sure she was gonna pass out had it not been for Marcel’s hand on her back.

  “Hi” Maya said softly, being the first to speak out of the 4 “Long time to no see”   

Tim stood speechless as he stared at her, unintentionally slipping his hand out of Emily’s and putting it in his pants pocket. He could’ve sworn he saw stars at one point from how dazed he felt seeing her in person for the first time in over a year.

“Hey” he finally said in response “um hey, this-this is...this is-”

“Emily” she spoke up quietly

“Emily yes, yes” Tim nodded “Um this is Emily my fiance, Emily this Maya and Marcel my...my…”

“Friends” Marcel grinned “So nice to meet you” he shook her hand gently “and um congratulations of course, what a beautiful thing”

 “Oh thank you” Emily smiled “Just here for our 14 week appointment, making sure all is well. You guys...are you guys expecting too ? Gosh that’s extremely invasive of me, I’m sorry I just assumed since this is the OBGYN side of the hospital and you two are together” she said softly turning red with embarrassment

“Nah you’re good” Maya shook her head “Just had a scare because I forgot to take my pill for a week and apparently the idea of condoms never came to my dumb ass brain that was too busy thinking about getting laid, but no babies in this uterus thank god” she tried to joke much to Tim and Emily’s wide eyes, Marcel being the only one laughing with her 

 “Alright tough crowd” she muttered to herself as she went through the middle of them into the elevator “But I wish you well, babies are super cute and stuff”

Emily grinned at her “You’re the sweetest, thank you ! Maya right ? Were you in a spread in Cosmo last month ? With the neon bikini in the pool for the safe sex while on vacation side ?

  Maya chuckled darkly.  She knew it was a dig, a sad attempt at one at least. “That’s me, that’s definitely me ! Got 20k for that spread, put a downpayment on a home with that shoot. I also did Maxim and got on the cover of that, I’m in Zara as well on a 10 foot poster right as you enter their store, and I just did a Victoria Secret ad that’s gonna be in every single mall in the states and that alone is probably gonna pay off my entire mortgage. You know, I did it once before in college and it paid off all my student loans too” she smiled “Now what is it that you do...M’am ?”

 Tim’s eyes widened as he watched the verbal drag go on, part of him knew he should’ve stepped in but he was too in shock to do a thing. “She’s a teacher” he answered sternly “A high school math teacher”

  “Still have those loans, but I love what I do” Emily nodded “It’s done for the love, not for the money” she hit back

“Aww” Maya put her hands to her heart “I remember when I used to say that too, I wanted to be a teacher so bad when I was teensy” she grinned “Then I realized how all teachers grew up to be nothing but bitter divorcees who thrive on making children’s lives miserable all whilst teaching pointless things like the Pythagorean theorem. Oh wait , that’s you ! My bad, my bad”

Marcel chuckled quietly as he bit the inside of his lip and moved his arm around her waist “We must go now, um congratulations on your child once again. Health and happiness for you both”. He smirked as he closed the elevator door and shook his head

  “Too far ?” Maya asked

“Just enough to piss her off” he answered back with a grin   Maya chuckled and looked down at her heels, trying to hide the disappointed in her face.