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sageinacage · 3 years

Note

Hellooo I saw you were taking requests again!! :D Would you be alright doing a bit of a hurt/comfort ish playful fic like Tommy asking techno to help train him. Techno notices that tommy starts to completely overwork himself and comforts him about like not feeling good enough to be techno's brother and techno playfully tickling him to force him to take a break? I'm sorry if this was a long prompt, it's 4am lol... Thank you so much!! :D

summary: tommy wants to be as strong as his brother techno, but doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to a/n: sorry i haven’t been active this weekend :[ im on the last 3 weeks of school and they’re piling so much stuff WAAAH warnings: swearing, self consciousness, self doubt (this is a hurt/comfort fic!) w/c: 1.6k

DSMP

“Techno, how did you get to be so… strong?”

“Hard work, Tommy. A lotta’ hard work.”

Tommy huffed, crossing his arms. That was definitely not the answer he wanted, because the boy wanted to be a force to be reckoned with now. “Well… what kind of hard work?” He egged on, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

“Well, experience is a big one- I’ve done a lot of fighting and gained a lot of perspective from that… uhhhh… I study books with ancient techniques? I uhhh, let me put some thought into this, kid,”

Techno continued to think, putting a hand to his chin in thought. None of these Tommy liked, as they both took much time, perseverance, and he was just too young to have had as much experience as his brother. “Oh, I’ve trained a lot-”

“Aha! Training! How do I train?” Tommy cheered, almost leaping with how excited he got. The boy assumed he would be able to be unstoppable after one training session, but his older brother didn’t know how to convey that it wasn’t possible- but also didn’t want to crush his spirits at the same time.

“Tommy,” Techno started, then let out a long sigh, “..it’s not that easy. I’d be willing to help but-”

“Let’s go now then, big man!” The blonde exclaimed triumphantly, marching towards the entrance to their house’s backyard. Techno watched him stomp out the room towards the back exit, shaking his head and following the boy.

When he arrived outside, Tommy was already in a set of armor with his sword out, grinning madly at Techno. With an amused huff, the piglin picked up his sword and stood a good distance from in front of him.

“Alright, the first thing is stance. Make sure you’re standing so you’ll be able to block on any side of you.” Techno placed his sword down, heading to Tommy. He gently moved his arms and shoulders to be in a preferred position. The boy stood there, completely stiff like a statue.

“Y’know you gotta loosen up, you need to be able to block and dodge attacks and can’t do that when you’re stone.”

“I gotta be like stone, so I can’t be knocked down!”

Techno shook his head, pushing his hand into Tommy’s side, making him fall on the grass. “That wasn’t fair!” Tommy whined, getting up and brushing the dirt off of his light armor. “All is fair in fights, kid. You never know what your opponent will do.” The piglin explained, pushing up his glasses.

Tommy muttered something under his breath, getting into the fighting stance his brother showed him. “I’m ready!” He announced, Tech sighing. “Tommy, you need to know the basics before going into battle.” He frowned, crossing his arms. “There are no basics in war!” Tommy rebuttals, using the phrase Techno used earlier against him.

“Actually there is-”

“I didn’t ask!” Tommy ran at Techno, falling onto the dirt as the man stepped to the side. “You don’t just run at someone and expect to get a hit on them, smartass.” He playfully flicked his brother’s head, who grumbled and got up, trying to get more hits on Techno.

The piglin continued to step out of the way, eventually sighing and easily disarming him from his blunt training sword.

“Tommy-”

“I can’t do it! How can I even be your brother?! I can barely even hold the sword, it's so heavy! I’m done with this, I’ll never be as strong as you!” Tommy fumed, throwing his armor off and stomping inside the house to go up to his room. Techno put his training sword away, sighing softly. ‘The kid has potential, he just gets ahead of himself.’ Techno thought, then heading inside to go upstairs to check up on his little brother.

“Can I come in?” He knocked on the door, hearing a small ‘no’ from inside. Techno huffed. “Please? I want to talk to you, Toms.” He asked again, then hearing nothing. “Fine.” Tommy gave him permission to come in, which Techno gladly took.

“Hey,” His brother sat at the foot of his bed, looking at him. “You’re just so cool. You’re Technoblade, everyone knows you as strong and scary. And… and I’m just Tommy. The little brother, the obnoxious one.” He ranted, sniffling softly as he curled his knees in and hiding his face.

“I wouldn’t say that, Tommy. I’ve heard people talk about how brave you are, which I’m gonna have to agree with. Also, you’re not obnoxious, I wouldn’t want to hang out with you if you were.” Techno showed him a small smile, opening his arms. Tommy leaped into them, wrapping his arms around his brother and holding his cape with an iron grip.

“Really? People think that?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you about that, kid.”

“I am pretty brave and cool, I gotta say,” Tommy chuckled softly at himself, his giggles slowly growing as Techno sighed at him. “Oh, I’ll give you something to laugh about!” He exclaimed playfully, his dull claws shifting around his waist.

“TEHehehechno!” Tommy made the poor mistake of shifting onto his back, so now he was just sprawled across his brother’s lap, stuck in his tickly grasp. “Tommy!” Techno playfully mocked, snickering at Tommy’s small growl in defiance.

“You’re really brave to try to rebuttal my attack, ain'tcha?” He spoke lowly, slipping one of his hands under Tommy’s loose shirt to lightly scratch at the sensitive skin around his belly. “Yohou suhUHUCK!” He complained, kicking his legs out in front of him. “What did you just say to me? You really are fearless.”

The boy was about to smile triumphantly until a blunt claw gently scritched over the bundle of nerves over his hip bone. “SHIHIHIT- Nohot thahahat!” Tommy complained. “Sohomewhehere else!”

“Y’know Tommy, when I tickle Ranboo right here he’d dip out right away. You must be tough if you can withstand this!” Techno praised, a fond smile washing over his face. Tommy continued to shake his head, the ticklish sensations making him tingle all over.

“Hmmm, let’s see if I could make you break. Highly doubt it for how well you’re taking it though, kid.” He chortled before laying Tommy down and skittering both his fingers up his sides. “IT’S SOHO BAHAHAD!” He arched his back, a wheeze escaping him. The claws continued to explore up his sides, dragging back down before stopping at his upper ribs to scribble over the ticklish skin there.

“WHIHIHIYYY?!” Tommy whined, slamming his arms down. “Because!” Techno smirked, drilling his fingers as they were trapped and he couldn’t wiggle them anymore. “THAHAHAT’S WOHOHORSE!” He screeched, the piglin just laughing. “Then free me, smarty!” His fingers continued to drill and prod as much as they could, shifting up to reach his underarms.

“NOHOHO! IT’LL BEHE EVEN WOHOHORSE!” Tommy grumbled, kicking his legs. “Good observation, Tommy! Never let your enemy get an advantage!” His brother praised again, smiling down at him. The grumpiness in the boy’s tone turned more gleeful, the pinkette grunting in success.

“But what if the enemy planned a surprise attack?!” Techno exclaimed, leaning his head down to blow a raspberry over the upper part of his tummy, repeating the action but on his navel next time. “I WIHILL SUHUHURVIVE!” Tommy retorted, trying to push at his head. “I’d like to see you try.” He challenged, lifting his shirt a small bit before leaning down to place nibbles along his lower belly and around his hips.

“FUHUHUCK! TEHEHECHNOHO!” He threw his head back, still holding onto Techno’s hair but not really pushing him away. Techno was genuinely surprised- usually, his nibbles can kill anyone and make them plead for mercy. “Wow Tommy, you can withstand my nibbles? You must really be a champ, huh kid?” He complimented, smiling at Tommy’s giddy squeal.

Techno knew how much Tommy needed this, he needed to hear how actually brave and tough he was, because the truth was the kid was strong, just needed to hear it to believe it. “You were able to survive that, but can you survive this?” He devilishly smiled, moving his claws over to scritch at his lower tummy as he nibbled up his sides.

“YOHOHOU’RE HOHORRIBLE!” Tommy shrieked, kicking his legs and arching his back, but still wasn’t begging for mercy like Techno thought he would. “Able to survive again? This is like the hardest time I’ve had tiring someone out, Toms.” Techno admitted, Tommy giggling and happily chortling in response. He was genuinely proud of himself, feeling stronger than ever.

“Alright. I give up.” Techno chuckled, pulling his brother in for a hug while he calmed down. “I wohohon!” Tommy announced excitedly, hugging him back. “Yeah yeah, whatever.” The piglin sighed contently, pulling away.

“You know Tommy, being strong is more than just physical strength. You gotta have the right mindset, and you’ve definitely got it. I’ve never met someone as strong-willed, enthusiastic, and brave as you.” Techno explained, rubbing his stomach and side area, trying to help with the after-tickles.

“Reheally?”

“Yeah, really.” Techno chuckled, getting up. “How about I teach you a lesson in some historic techniques in fighting, I think you’ll find it interesting.”

“Books are so boring- ugh, fine.” Tommy crossed his arms, standing up and stretching, before following his brother out of the room. “What were you boys doing?! I thought Tommy was being attacked for a hot minute.” Phil laughed from the kitchen, seeing them walk by. “I beat Techno in a tickle fight, that’s what happened!” Tommy laughed, nudging his brother.

“Yep. He beat me. Strong kid, I tell ‘ya.”

#SBI my beloved #mcyt tickle #lee!tommy #ler!techno #ler!technoblade #my writing

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suneatersupportsquad · 4 years

Text

red handed; colby brock

request: im not sure if you do requests or even any imagines for colby brock anymore but i was wondering if you cold make a exception, so basically the plot is that the reader met colby through kat and since then they hit it off, now their in a secretive relationship the only person who knows is kat but she only knows the reader has a crush on colby. one day everyones hanging out in the same room room and colby is sexting the reader, sams curious to whos hes texting and they find out their dating.

dedication: @whydontweanons

genre: fluff, subtle smut?

pairing: colby brock x gn!reader

characters: colby brock, sam golbach, katrina stuart, corey scherer, jake webber, kevin langue, brennen taylor, devyn lundy, tara yummy

word count: 1.8k

warnings: alcohol, what would probably be underage drinking, NSFW (barely), sexting (duh), mentions of COVID-19, quarantine

a/n: of course i’ll still write for sam and colby!! it’s just that, since i’m not as active of a follower of them as i used to be, my goal is to write for fandoms that i’m more invested in at the moment. but, honestly, i don’t think i could ever really stop writing for them. i love those boys so much. also this plot made me laugh so hard when i saw it in the best way possible. getting this request honestly made my day, so thank you for that!! anyways, i’m a little rusty, but here we go.

important links: masterlist

find more fics at my new blog @trapboysbunny

You and Colby had known each other for a long time - pretty much since he’d moved to LA with Sam - and you had been involved romantically just as long. You had met him and Sam through Kat on a boring Saturday night when all their friends flaked on coming to a little kickback they were hosting. Trying to be a good friend and cheer the boys up, Katrina had invited you to hopefully kickstart some emotional momentum. Your eyes met Colby’s for the first time and you clicked. Something in your gut had told you that the two of you would end up being close, and it was right. You had hit it off immediately, not taking very long to start laughing at one another’s corny jokes and telling stories over Smirnoff Ice while some random late night show played in the background. From that night on, it was history.

Since then, you two had been practically attached at the hip. If you weren’t sitting on the same room or facetiming, you were definitely texting one another. It became a running joke in your friend group that you two had evolved into a pair of siamese twins, or that being without you gave Colby separation anxiety. The two of you found it even more amusing when you actually began dating, not long after that fateful first night. It amazed the both of you that you were able to hide your relationship so well. No one had a clue. The two of you laughed about it quite often, actually, over late night phone calls and tipsy afternoons spent only with each other. No one knew, and nobody needed to know.

Colby, due to the internet and his fanbase being the way it is, preferred to keep his personal (and especially romantic) relationships more on the private side. His intent wasn’t necessarily to hide his feelings and relationship with you from his friends, but that particular topic of conversation never really came up in your friend group. Everyone had just kind of figured that everyone single would simply date someone when they were ready and tell everybody about it when they felt the time was appropriate. It wasn’t that Colby didn’t want to tell them, he just didn’t see the point in going out of his way to tell all of his friends hey after God knows how long I finally have a partner. He just didn’t want to make a big deal out of your relationship. Knowing his friends, they would definitely make it into some type of big thing, not to mention that Jake would dub the occasion as “cause for celebration” (which was really just an excuse to drink more). So Colby preferred to keep things on the quieter side for you two; neither of you wanted to make your relationship into an object for speculation.

Kat was the only person out of all of your friends to have any knowledge of your feelings for Colby. And thank God for her; if you didn’t have her to gush about Colby to, you probably would have either exploded or died. Or both. And she was there for every single second of it. She loved hearing about your movie nights, your urban exploring adventures, the sweet yet mundane things he would do to make you happy, literally anything. She ate that shit up like a man starved, and you did the same for her and Sam (regardless of the fact that their relationship was public already). You hadn’t told her explicitly about the nature of your relationship with Colby, really just gushed about your ever-growing love for the boy. Unbeknownst to you, she firmly believed that you only had feelings for Colby, clueless to the fact that the two of you had actually been dating for quite a while now. With her “go get ‘em, tiger” comments, along with similar remarks, you assumed that she had some sort of idea about your relationship with Cole, hence why you had never explicitly told her about your secret boyfriend. Kat, being the good friend that she was, never spilled your “secret” feelings to anyone else. Not even her boyfriend.

Eventually, quarantine started up amidst the international COVID-19 pandemic and you had begun practically living with the trap boys. A day without you in the house was enough to prompt concern for the boys, minus Colby who always knew the real reason why you weren’t coming over. This soon became the new normal, you taking a “day off” every few weeks to get tested just in case. At this point, it was almost comical that no one had figured out you two were dating yet.

One particular weekend afternoon, everyone in your friend group was hanging out at the house. You and Colby were sitting on opposite sides of the room, you next to Kat and Colby seated beside Sam. It was particularly warm today seeing as this Saturday landed smack in the middle of the infamous August heat wave, so you had thrown on a tank top and some shorts, nothing to flashy. Colby had dressed similarly, wearing only a muscle tee and a pair of trunks.

You were sat beside Kat, the both of you trying to listen to the story Devyn was telling. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t ignore the way your boyfriend was staring at you from across the room. You looked away from Dev for just a second to shoot him a glare when you realize exactly why he’s looking at you. The speed at which the blood rushes to your face is dizzying, and you drop your head to stare at your lap. Motherfucker- You sigh as you pull your phone out of your pocket. “Quit it with the blowjob eyes asshole,” you type before pressing the blue send button.

You feel his gaze break as his phone vibrates. Trying to ignore him, you refuse to meet his gaze again, putting all of your effort into focusing on Devyn’s story. Seconds later your phone vibrates in your pocket. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the screen reads, and you shake your head.

“Uh huh sure ok.” You pressed send again.

Another few seconds passed and your phone vibrated again. “That shirt looks really good on you.”

You blushed as you read the message, flustered by the comment. Brows knitting together in confusion, you looked up to find him staring back at you with a dopey grin. You hunched over your phone and sent a message back. “You really think so?”

“Yeah, of course,” Colby replied, a gray typing bubble sitting under the message. “But you know how it would look cuter?”

You cocked your head to the side and typed out your response. “How?”

“On my bedroom floor.” You almost snorted at that, clamping a hand over your mouth to prevent any noise from escaping. Typical. Thankfully no one had been paying enough attention to you to notice that you were distracted.

Colby, on the other hand, wasn’t so lucky. “Give me this, dude,” Sam said, snatching the phone out of Colby’s hand and effectively bringing the conversation on their side of the room to a halt. “You haven’t been listening for like the past 20 minutes, dude. Now let’s see what’s got you so distracted.”

“You don’t need to look at that, Sam, it’s not that important-” The tall brunette sounded slightly panicky as he reached and grappled with Sam for his phone. Sam played around for a little bit before finally reading the screen, eyes widening in amusement.

Upon finishing his reading, Sam lowered the phone and Colby relaxed, already knowing that he was caught. “So who’s ‘angelcakes,’ huh Colbert?” Sam prodded teasingly.

Colby blushed ever so slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “They’re just a friend-”

“Which friend, huh?” Sam continued his teasing, growing louder and louder with every response until all eyes were on the two boys.

Colby shrugged, trying to be nonchalant but looking more stressed than ever in actuality. “Just a friend.”

“What do you say we call this friend, huh boys?” Sam suggested.

Kevin nodded, agreeing. “I think we definitely should.” Brennen also nodded when Sam looked to him for approval, essentially finalizing the decision.

“Okay then, let’s do this thing!” Sam yelled, earning cheers from all the other curious folks in the room. The blonde boy pressed call and Colby simply held his face in his hands.

You jumped when your phone rang, honestly having forgotten that oh shit, I’m angelcakes. Everyone turned to look at you curiously, Colby even peeking through his fingers. You didn’t even pick up the device, already knowing whose name would be lighting up the screen. “You gonna pick that up or something?” Corey asked awkwardly.

You shook your head, leaving your phone face down in its spot beside your thigh. “No, it’s probably not important anyways.”

A beat of heavy silence passed before Tara spoke. “Gee, they sure aren’t giving up. Maybe you should answer it.”

“Nah, I’m sure it’s just-”

“Yeah, you should answer the phone, Y/N,” Jake agreed, the pieces seeming to click in his head.

You sighed, burning bright red to the tips of your ears. “Okay okay, fine.” You stood and clicked the answer button. “Hello?”

And there it was, your voice echoing from Colby’s phone. The room erupted in cheers of disbelief, the boys pouncing on Colby and the girls slapping you in playful excitement. “I knew there was something going on between you two!! There’s no way there couldn’t have been -- I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” Kat squealed, smushing you in a hug.

The rest of the girls echoed the sentiment, a chorus of ‘same’s and ‘I can’t believe you’s. It took a while for everyone to calm down but, once everyone settled, you and Cole managed to get some alone time. The two of you escaped out back, the less than mediocre breeze cooling the sweat that slicked your skin. You held each other, almost as though you were about to start slow dancing. “Damn, caught red handed, huh?”

You laughed breathily, leaning your forehead against his shoulder. “It was only a matter of time, ya know?”

“I know,” he agreed, cheek pressing against your hair. “I’m glad we don’t have to be weird around them anymore.”

“Me too,” you hummed.

Colby pulled away a little bit, just enough for him to look you in the eyes, your arms still around his neck. “Hey.”

You giggled, confused. “Hey.”

“I love you.”

You smiled your confirmation, eyes twinkling under the cheap backyard lights. “I love you.”

#colby brock #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock one shot #colby brock fanfic #colby brock imagine #fanfiction #the trap house #bug.oneshots

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calpops · 4 years

Text

less lonely | l.h.

You move in with Luke and he realizes all of the time he’s missed out on with you and his son.

From my prompt list: I can’t do this anymore & stay with me

1.3k words

living with luke masterlist | feedback and reblogs mean the world

Luke looks around his house, the once clean and comfortable home turned upside down. Boxes and suitcases litter the floor and footprints sweep across the tile from friends helping in the endeavor to move you and Luke’s son in. Luke’s still in awe and shock at the revelations you brought to his doorstep the previous day but an excitement sits in his heart that he can’t deny. His son sits in a baby swing and giggles as Luke crouches down to face him. Robbie reaches a hand up and gives Luke a grin.

“Hey bud,” Luke coos and takes Robbie’s small hand, the baby’s fingers tiny in his hold. “Welcome home.”

“I think he likes it here,” Luke hears you say from behind him, he spins on his heel and faces you, stands to be at eye level and watches as you place a box on the coffee table.

“I hope so,” he mutters, runs a hand through his hair and eyes all of the things that have accumulated around the house. “Is that the last of it?” Luke asks as the door shuts behind Ashton and Michael both toting boxes. Affirmative nods come Luke’s way. “Lotta stuff for two people.”

You laugh and Luke feels a little lighter through all of the adjustments. “Believe it or not, most of it is his,” you retort and send a fond smile over to Robbie. “I may have gone a little overboard.”

Luke shakes his head, knowing that he would have done the same if given the chance. He can’t imagine what he would have done for his son as a newborn, he doesn’t know what ridiculous things he would have sought out. It hits him once again that there’s eight missing months standing between them. His heart aches and his mind wanders through the time he lost but he shakes himself, knowing that letting himself drown in those missing pieces won’t do anyone any good.

“It’s too bad Cal’s not here to help,” Ashton chides lightly even though everyone knows why and would never hold it against him.

“Have you heard from him? How’s Mila doing?” Michael asks and Luke tunes in for an update; his favorite niece fighting an illness that’s left Calum by her side at all times.

“Better,” Ashton informs and the entire room lightens. Luke catches his breath and peers over at Robbie, unable to imagine what it must be like to be in Calum’s shoes. “Cal said if she’s doing even better by the weekend we can go see her.”

Luke leans back down to Robbie and picks him up, suddenly needing to know that he’s okay. Protective instincts kicking into gear at the mention of Mila and the anxiety that looms. Luke rocks Robbie, swaying himself from side to side as the eight month old delights in the motion.

“We’ll go meet Mila, huh, I think you two will be best buds,” Luke whispers with all of the hope his heart can muster.

Ashton and Michael stay long enough to help build and set up the essentials. They stay until it’s dark and rejoice in the new bundle of joy that’s joined the family. Michael makes promises that Robbie is his favorite nephew and vows that this time he’ll be the favorite uncle. Ashton only chuckles and waves a hand at his friend. The day goes by smoothly and Luke finds himself restless as night claims the sky and silence settles into the once bustling house.

It’s late when Luke finds himself sitting on the couch sifting through cardboard boxes, fingers finding a photo album and curiosity getting the better of him. He pauses, knows he shouldn’t pry but the photo of Robbie on the cover allows him to indulge. You’d already promised he could see photos of the times he missed. Alone and under nothing but moonlight pooling in from the French doors Luke assumes now is better than later. He flips the album open and takes a deep breath.

He’s met with the sight of a newborn Robbie, his height and weight written in the margins of the book. He flips through the pages, watches as Robbie grows bigger and hurt makes a home in his heart. Photos of Robbie with you scatter the pages, photos of Robbie with people Luke has never met blow hard truths into his mind. He keeps flipping, restless in his endeavor to catch up on all that he’s missed. He hears the floor creak behind him and turns to find you tiptoeing down the hall.

“What are you doing up?” you ask.

“Just… looking,” he says, voice low and quiet. He turns back to the album and finds Robbie with a smile that could melt and break hearts. “I can’t do this anymore,” Luke mumbles and snaps the album shut.

“Do what?” you question as you approach and see the album now discarded on the coffee table.

Luke sighs and covers his hands with his face as he leans back into the plush cushions of the couch. He rubs his eyes and then drags his fingers down his face and eventually settles his hands balled into fists in his lap.

“Pretend that I’m okay,” he chokes out and feels the dip of your weight on the cushions beside him. “Pretend that it doesn’t kill me that I missed so much of his life.”

“You don’t have to pretend,” you whisper and Luke hears the pain and genuine sentiment in your voice. It almost makes him feel better to know you don’t expect him to be okay with it, that he doesn’t have to put on a strong front or act detached from his emotions. He looks over at you and a realization hits him.

“I don’t want to”—Luke begins and shakes his head and all of the anxieties inside of him—“but I can’t help it. I look at you and him and how bonded you are, I see all of the time I missed to have that with him. I look at you and I blame you.”

“I know,” you say and shock Luke, leave him coming up short and make his heart beat uncomfortably hard in his chest. He didn’t expect that. “And I’m sorry.”

Luke sighs and feels his emotions spike. “Could you really not find me?”

He waits with bated breath, heart beating out the time it takes for you to respond. He feels himself cool, the accusations and blame boiling over and sending a chill up his spine. He instantly feels regret bite at him when he sees how glossy your eyes have gotten and how distant you become.

“I tried,” you say and it sounds like a promise, a plea for Luke to understand. “I wrote you but I didn’t know where to send the letters.”

It goes silent for a moment and Luke collects himself. He realizes you did all you could given the circumstances. One night stands didn’t usually wind up like this. Without his number or address it was all just shots in the dark trying to find him.

“And I was scared,” you admit in a whisper and Luke furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “Suddenly I was pregnant and alone and didn’t know how to find you; I didn’t know if you’d believe me if I did.”

Luke sags, his shoulders dropping and weight sinking back into the couch. He didn’t know that. Didn’t think that you might fear his response, fear that he may not believe you or take Robbie as his own.

“I believe you,” Luke says and turns back to you. “I’m sorry too. I don’t blame you, I shouldn’t have said that.”

Moonlight and pain sparkle your eyes as they gaze at the floor. Luke watches your hands, your fingers curling into your palms and dragging across the length of your legs.

“Do you want me to go?” you ask and Luke feels a hidden meaning within the question.

“No, please don’t,” he responds quickly. He reaches a hand out and captures yours, he hasn’t felt a spark simmer under his skin in a long while, but with emotions on high and the night being so dark he feels it under his skin and in his bones. “Stay with me?”

You nod and Luke feels a little bit less lonely as the night fades away.

***

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heavymetalover · 5 years

Text

Call Me Daddy (Michael Langdon x fem reader)

{i imagined scruffy sojourn michael w this one but i left the description kind of open so yall can imagine whichever teehee}

Summary: Michael is about to become your step dad and the two of you have an unusual relationship…

Warnings: DADDY KINK DUH, smut, dirty talk, fingering, vaginal sex, dom!michael, hickies, rough sex.

WC: 5.5k

A/N: ive done the unforgiven… omg.

this is a different format from my other stuff. i didnt see anyone doing this and yall know me and my daddy issues I HAD TO. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE anon me, message me, whatever, if you want more parts cuz im down.

~~~~

You had an average run-of-the-mill life with your mom. The two of you lived in a sizable suburban Los Angeles estate; your mom worked for most of her waking hours to keep you comfortable and you worked your ass off to stay in your top college. You had a few friends that would pop into your life when your mom left town, a few boyfriends here and there, even your mom dated around. Everything felt normal until Michael came into the picture.

Your mom has been dating Michael for a few months now, but every time he’s around he brings an eerie feeling along with him. Despite being nearly half her age, he has the soul of somebody from the eighteen hundreds. The way he composes himself, how he speaks with the utmost confidence and how his stares linger too long; his glacial blue eyes always watch you like he can see right through your clothes.

You’ve been skeptical of him since the day you met him. When you shook his hand and accidentally removed one of his large rings, he nonchalantly told you to keep it. You decided to sell the huge diamond-encrusted Cartier ring and use the twenty thousand dollars to help pay for college.

Since then you’ve avoided the two of them in protest of their relationship. You knew it was juvenile to evade them, but the man turned you on more than you’d like to admit. His soft-waved blonde hair, fluffy lips, jawline for days, prominent cheekbones, and how can you forget the eyes… Everything about him looked planned, like he was designed to be flawless.

On a mundane weekend morning, your mom calls you from downstairs. “Y/n!” her voice echoes through the halls.

You stop reading your favourite book and take out an earbud. “Yeah?!” you yell back, looking up from the pages for a moment and waiting for her to say something else, but the house is silent. You pretend to ignore her call and go back to the story.

“Y/n!” your mom yells again.

You sigh and drop your book, rolling off of your bed and skipping down the stairs to see what fresh hell awaits. As you approach your mom, who’s opening her mouth to call you again, you smell something unusual. Something you haven’t smelt since your dad left. Cologne.

“Honey, he’s here,” your mom whispers to you, putting a hand on your shoulder. You try turning away to run back to your room, but your mom stops you. “Can you be nice for once, please?” she begs, squeezing your shoulder.

“Whatever, let’s get this over with,” you groan and shimmy her hand off of your shoulder.

Michael works at the dining table, setting up three plates and utensils. You’re planted to the ground in awe, you’ve never had to eat dinner with the two of them before. It crosses your mind that they must be confronting you about bypassing them these past few months, your fight or flight response is already kicking in.

Michael looks up at you, finally acknowledging you and capturing you in his ocean blue eyes with a nanosecond of contact. Your mom moves in between the two of you and takes some food out of a paper bag. “Michael and I wanted all of us to eat dinner together,” she skips to stand beside him. You widen your eyes at her and cross your arms in objection. She widens her eyes back, you can practically hear her nagging you to be polite.

Michael puts his arm around your mom. “Your mother and I thought it best for us to… start acting like a family,” he says.

Your eyebrows shoot up and you can’t hold back your smile. “A family?” you laugh. You purse your lips and start walking backwards, aching to escape Michael’s spell. “Mmm, I think I’ll pass,” you turn around to start walking away.

“Y/n,” your mom snaps. You stop in the middle of a step and twist back towards them, taking small, reluctant steps to approach their little function. “We have something to tell you,” she says and immediately after, vaults her hand out to you.

You take it hesitantly and look at her, still trying to figure them out and failing. “What?” you ask.

“No, honey, look at it,” she rolls her eyes, “look at my hand.”

You gawk at her hand, her third finger is dressed in a huge diamond ring. It looks big enough to pay off your whole house. You unintentionally let out a dramatic gasp and drop her hand, she continues to hold it up for you. “It’s the bloodiest diamond he could find in the LA area,” she explains, “We’re in love.” She smiles and places her hand on Michael’s chest, looking up at him with hearts in her eyes. He gifts a small kiss on her lips.

You scoff and shake your head. Any tension that you felt from Michael has dissolved. He’s been dating your mom for five months, five fucking months. Who does he think he is? Are they both nuts? “You’re joking, right?” you ask, completely stunned by how brash the whole situation is. “Are you guys pranking me?”

Michael grins at you, it makes you melt and you hate yourself for it. “Call me daddy,” he sneers.

----

It’s a quaint Wednesday evening when you decide to take a break from studying and grab a snack. You’re scrolling through Tumblr when you walk out of your room and smash your face against a sturdy chest. “Jesus!” you gasp, looking up at Michael standing in front of your door; one of his hands is in a fist, ready to knock on your door, while the other is behind his back. “You scared the shit out of me!” You playfully push his chest away from you, trying to shake off the sudden rush of adrenaline.

He drops his fist as he stumbles back slightly. It’s the first time you’ve talked to him since they announced their engagement. Michael moved in about a month ago and it’s been hard to ignore him since he sits, day in day out, typing away on his laptop in your living room.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “But I have to admit it’s nice to hear your voice again.”

You lean against your doorframe, trying to act casual as if he hadn’t just knocked the wind out of you completely. “Did my mom come home from work or something? She send you here?” you ask, declining his attempts to meet your eyes, instead you stare at his lapel.

“No, I got you something,” he explains, wiggling the surprise behind his back.

“Another Cartier ring?” you joke. “Oh, or is it a new girlfriend? Because that would be even better.” His eyes find the ceiling in annoyance and it feels rewarding, you were starting to think he couldn’t be cracked. “Did you get me an apartment, so I don’t have to live with another failed marriage?”

“No,” he snaps back, starting to sound impatient with your infantile attitude. You straighten up at his belligerent tone. He slides into your room, keeping the gift hidden behind his back. “It’s thoughtful, something I know you’d like, but… if you’re hellbent on loathing my existence, why should I be so kind?” he asks. He somehow manages to speak reserved, yet impossibly intimidating. Every word that leaves his lips demands to be heard, it sends chills down your spine. “Right?” he prompts.

You take in a breath. “Right,” you force yourself to agree, mostly because you’re curious to see what the present is. Another part of you is getting bored of acting like a hermit and going days without social interaction. “Obviously it feels weird; I barely know you and you’re becoming my dad and you moved in, everything just seems so fast,” you explain yourself. You saunter back into your room to meet him. “I’ve been a bitch. I’m sorry, Michael. Seriously.”

He takes a step closer to you, you’re only inches apart. You can feel the heat radiating from his body and fight the urge to wrap your arms around him. “We’ll work on ‘Michael’ later,” he replies. You’re about to question what he means by that when he takes the present out from behind his back. He holds a black bag in between the two of you and you immediately recognize the store. “I heard you on the phone with your friend about something red, lacey, with a bow. I think I found it…”

You take the Victoria’s Secret bag from him without saying a word. You have no words to say. You don’t know if you should thank him or refuse the gift or slap him for listening to your personal conversations. Your mind races wondering if you’d gossiped about his good looks on the phone with your friend.

You silently pry open the bag and paw through the lingerie, mountains of cute panties and bras, digging through things you were never able to afford but always wanted. And, of course, Michael bought the red, lacey one piece you were talking about with your friend. There’s a stillness in the room as you look through the bag. “You bought all of this for me?”

“Yeah, I can’t see how your mom would fit into any of those.”

All of the pieces are just your size, it’s the perfect gift… just not from your stepdad. “How did you even know my size?” you stop looking at the bag and make the mistake of falling into his eyes.

“I went through your clothes,” he carelessly shrugs.

You drop the present by your side. “You went through my clothes, like, my lingerie?”

He slowly nods his head, acting as if it isn’t strange for him to invade your privacy how he did. You huff and he begins looking agitated with you again. “Would you like if I returned all this stuff? I thought you’d like it.”

“I do,” you mutter and kick the bag away from him, you’re not jeopardizing this gift with your uncontrollable sass.

“Good,” he spits back.

“Just… don’t think you can just buy yourself into the family,” you mock. You catch yourself subconsciously crossing your arms over your chest to give yourself a breast lift, but you don’t stop.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he smirks. He looks down at your cleavage and it feels like all the air is sucked out of the room. “You have quite the collection of lingerie you keep hidden at the bottom of your drawers,” he observes, “like a dirty guilty pleasure.” You peer up at him, again trying to read him, and again failing. He uses one of his fingers to hook onto the thin fabric of your shirt, your tits are practically pouring out and begging to be the center of attention. He tugs at the fabric, looking under your shirt and inspecting your boobs suffocated in one of your intimate Victoria’s Secret pickups. “Kitten’s all dressed up?” he whispers, his fingertips graze the embroidered details.

You bite your lip, anticipating the second he’ll rip the bra off your chest. “It’s all for you,” you tease, pushing your tits together even more, “I’m always dressed up for you, Michael.”

He breathes in, groaning under his breath. “I thought I told you,” his voice is low and intimidating, “call me daddy.”

You’re drinking in a breath of his cologne, shifting onto the tips of your toes to give his soft lips a rugged kiss, when the sound of keys rattling downstairs takes you out of it. Michael still stares at you, his fingers continue to linger over your clothed tits. “Michael!” your mom calls from downstairs.

You look up at him with fear in your puppy dog eyes and Michael grins. He shoots you one last, knowing, glance before leaving your room. He leaves you without saying two words. “Yeah, babe,” he answers your mom, closing your bedroom door behind him.

What the fuck just happened?

----

Holding back your gags, you grasp your friend’s hair as she projectile vomits peach schnapps into an expensive toilet bowl. Her phone rings in her pocket and you huff, digging through the pockets of the leather jacket you lent her and pulling out a vibrating iPhone. You pick up the phone with an ill “hello”, answering too late and looking down at the screen. She must’ve ordered an Uber a while ago, there’s a ton of notifications that the driver’s outside. “Oh shit,” you mutter under your breath. “Your ride is here!” you yell at her, trying to pull her onto her feet.

“What?!” she yells into the toilet bowl.

You roll your eyes and lean down beside her ear, “I said, your ride is here!” you yell over the thumping music.

Your friend stumbles around, trying to stand up in her six-inch heels. You pull her onto you and her head rests on your shoulder, she goes limp against you. “Stop, come on!” you shout over the music. “You have to g-”

You’re cut off by your friend puking onto an expensive mini dress you bought for tonight’s party. This shindig was supposed to be a fun little escape from your school life, your home life, Michael, all your stress. You expected to make new friends, meet hot guys, but instead you came an hour late and have been nursing your friend the whole night. You’re seriously going to kick her ass tomorrow.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, her breath reeking of throw up.

You toss her arm over your shoulder and start walking her out of the bathroom. “I’m going to kill you tomorrow, you know that?” you say in her ear and she lets out a small, apologetic whimper.

A cute guy who was talking you up earlier approaches the two of you. He holds two red cups in his hands and shrugs when he sees you. “What the fuck, y/n? You disappeared on me!” he talks to you over the bass-y music. “I got our drinks!” he shakes the cups in his hands and hands one over to you, as if completely ignoring your drunken friend hanging off of your side.

Your friend staggers, nearly bringing you down with her. The cute guy helps you pick her back up and you sigh, annoyed at how much of a disaster your night has turned into. He knits his eyebrows at your sour attitude, then finding the vomit on your dress, he looks back up at you. You see his doe eyes grow apologetic when he mouths a weak “sorry” to you, stepping out of your way. You shake your head as if telling him it’s fine; you just wish you had more time to get to know him.

You continue dragging your friend along your side and hear someone call out your name from behind you. You whip your head around; your hair irritatingly sticks to your lip-gloss. “Hope to see you again!” he calls after you. You nod in his direction and resume walking your friend, who is nearly passed out on your shoulder, to the front door. When you walk out of the house, you’re assaulted with the smell of salt water. Despite this night turning into one of the most frustrating nights of your life, at least you got to visit a Malibu beach house.

A big, black SUV is parked outside of the house and you rush her to the door. Opening the backseat and stuffing her inside the seats in the back. “The app says where you’re taking her, right?” you ask the Uber driver, your voice sounds muted from being struck by loud music all night.

He nods and reads out her address. “Y/n,” your friend slurs, gripping onto your arm with all her strength, “you’re a really nice… you’re a… you’re a really good friend, you know that? Like, seriously,” she pauses to hiccup, “thank you for taking care of me tonight.” Her words are so slurred that it’s nearly impossible to make out her compliment, but you just nod in hopes it’ll get her to let go. She drops your arm and hands you your pricey leather jacket, bunched up in a ball, before shutting the van door.

You throw on your jacket, protecting yourself from the ocean’s breeze, and watch the van drive away when you notice a familiar car parked across the street. The SUV blocked a four-seater Maserati parked on the other side of the road. Michael’s sedentary in the driver’s seat with a cigarette hanging from his lips. You balance yourself on your ridiculously tall heels and stomp over to his car. He doesn’t even see you coming, he’s leaned back in the driver’s seat reading a book.

You crouch down and knock on the glass of his window. His eyes meet yours for a second and he slowly rolls down the window. A mob of cigarette smoke escapes the car and he chucks the stick onto the pavement. You’re both quiet for a few moments, the crashing ocean waves fills up the silence. “How did you know I was here?” you ask.

He finally puts down his book and looks at you. “Just trying to be a good dad,” he responds.

“Ugh, ew,” you groan. “You’re my step dad.”

He adjusts his seat to start driving, his eyes looking you up and down as he does. “Looks like your night went a little… rough,” he jokes and nods towards the puke on your dress. “You need a ride?”

You look back at the party. As much as you wanted to live up the night, you’re already in too much of a bad mood to go back in there. It doesn’t help that your new dress is covered in puke, too. You turn back around to Michael, he awaits your answer with a cocked brow. “You can’t tell mom,” you sigh, walking around the car to get into the passenger’s seat. The luxury car’s butterfly doors obnoxiously open up for your entry. “Not a word,” you assure him as you slide into the leather seat.

He starts up the car and one of his Led Zeppelin albums begins to play. “I picked you up at the library,” he quips.

He starts driving along the empty coast and you decide to skip the seatbelt, you don’t want to dirty his car with your friend’s retch. His eyes glance over to your seat for a moment, he notices you second guessing the seatbelt and puts a hand on your thigh. You look up at him and intuitively try to tempt him, biting your bottom lip and batting your lashes. “I’ll protect you if we crash,” he whispers, his fingers lightly caress your thighs.

You put your hand on his and slide him further up your leg. He keeps one hand on the wheel, eyes on the road, but when his eyes do meet yours, it makes all the nerves in your core feel like a wave pool. Your dress is short enough for him to reach your panties without any hassle. Your hand is on his when his fingers begin to rub your pussy, still dressed in a pair of panties he bought you. “Baby’s already wet for daddy,” he says under his breath, kneading your clit in small circles.

You feel your stomach erupt with butterflies, you’ve never felt a nervousness so intense before. A rush of thoughts suddenly violates your mind, you try to shut them up but they keep coming. This is wrong. You shouldn’t be doing this. You’re disgusting for enjoying this. His fingers have been in your mom before.

You dig your nails into his skin and pull his hand away from you; bending over in your seat and clutching onto your stomach. You only had one drink tonight, you shouldn’t be feeling this sick.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, “are you okay?”

“I think I need air,” you grumble through the sudden sickness. “Can you pull over?”

Michael only takes a minute to find an empty parking lot on the beach and pull into it. You get out of the car without saying a word to him and take off your heels, throwing them into the backseat of his car. You’re already starting to feel your anxiety subside as you shuffle through the cool sand and pace towards the erratic waves crashing on shore. This is one of the reasons you loved LA, the tons of tiny, empty beaches. The ocean at night, and how it constantly smelt like salt water, how it relaxed you.

The breeze blew through your hair, a part of you felt like running into the crashing waves, but a voice took you out of it. “Y/n!” Michael called behind you, over the sound of the whistling wind. He trudges in the sand to get to you; you faintly snicker at his dedication. “Are you okay?” he asks once he’s closer to you.

When you see him, face glowing in the moon light, golden locks blowing in the ocean breeze, face twisted with concern, it all settles. Everything feels like it’s in the right place. Your stomach, although still turning with butterflies, no longer feels sick.

There’s a pause between the two of you; both of you deciding to admire each other instead of the beautiful ocean view beside you. Then, it feels like everything clicks. Like the two of you mentally communicate your longing for each other, your desire. Both shutting your eyes and diving in for a kiss at the same time.

His lips smash against yours, sucking your face, and his tongue quickly invades your mouth. He kisses you like he’s craved your lips for years, passionately cleaning up your mouth with his eager tongue.

Michael works your jacket off of your shoulders and you shimmy it to the ground. He unzips your dress, the zip running along your naked back sends a shiver crawling down your spine. He abandons your lips for a moment to pull down your dress, exposing your bare chest and expensive panties. You’re too lost in lust to even realize you’re half naked on a public beach.

You’re both panting and releasing all of the built-up sexual tension. He stands back up and kisses you again, his hands cup your ass and he gives an echoed smack; his fingers creep down your legs. He grabs onto the back of your thighs and hoists you up, you lightly yelp into his mouth and wrap your legs around him. His large hands hold you up and he leans down, resting you onto the jacket you’ve thrown onto the sand.

Once you’re laid down, he begins rubbing your pussy again. His cold rings adding a different sense of pleasure as he rubs you into entropy. He slides your feeble panties to the side and spits down on your cunt, shoving his finger inside you. You moan at the sudden intrusion, taking in a breath of the salt-scented air. “That’s it, baby girl,” he whispers, adding in another finger, “I want to hear you moan for daddy.”

You take in a breath and whimper as he curves his fingers inside of you, slowly pulsing against your g-spot. He touches you as if he already knows which parts make you crumble. “Ooh yeah, daddy,” you cry and grind on his fingers, pushing him deeper inside you, “right there.”

“You’re my dirty little slut, huh?” he asks, gliding in another finger. Your eyes roll back in pleasure. “Little girl likes to get fucked by her daddy?” He adds another finger, completely stretching you out. Your breath gets caught in your throat and you can’t reply. “I asked you a question.”

You meet his cold eyes for a second, before you throw your head back in pleasure. “Yes!” you breathe out, feeling the heat rise in your body. Your sensitive cunt throbs under his gluttonous fingers, persistently fucking you and begging for more. “Yes, oh, keep fucking me just like that, daddy!”

His fingers find a rhythm inside of you, constantly bringing you to the brink of climax and slowing down. “Such a dirty little girl,” he teases and spits on your soaking cunt. He pulls out his fingers and holds them to your lips. You grab his hand and suck on his long fingers, tasting the cool metal rings mixed with the sweet taste of your pussy.

You sit up and lock your lips with his again. Both, you and Michael, unbutton his shirt; you want to feel his flesh against yours as soon as possible. When you get to the bottom, you slide your hands up his body and square the shirt off of his shoulders. His perfect, porcelain skin shines in the moonlight. You want to appreciate it for a moment, but he’s already unbuckling his belt.

He’s propped on his knees, unzipping his black pants and bringing them down to pull his erection out of his briefs. It springs out when you start grabbing for it, he moves back and clicks his tongue. “My greedy little girl,” he mocks, “you don’t get a taste until daddy says you do.”

He pushes you down with one of his hands. His touch is so delicate, yet so commanding. Everything he does is done with conviction and a power that only you could dream of, he is inherently dominant over you. He strokes his long, girthy length over you, you’re practically drooling at the sight. He spits on himself and rubs it into the head. “Spit on it,” he orders.

You sit up and weakly spit on the tip of his cock; it’s too late when you notice your mouth is dry from nervousness. He shakes his head. “You’re so pathetic, you can’t even spit on me right,” he sneers, divorced from the nasty words leaving his lips. He presses his dick against your folds and your fingers curl into your jacket, awaiting the moment he plunges into you. “Say the word, baby girl, say you want me,” he’s lingering at your entrance.

“Please,” you whine, your pussy is beating against his hard cock, “please dad.”

He pushes his head inside you and you grab his arms for support, digging your nails into his skin. He’s so thick, you’ve never felt something so large obtruding your tight cunt. He moves in slowly, reading your stunned facial expressions to see if he should continue stuffing himself inside of you. You let out tiny weeps as he digs deeper into your hole, but you can’t manage much more.

Michael thrusts himself into you until he’s balls deep, even he can’t help but groan. “My little girl is so fucking tight,” he grunts under his breath. He starts to hammer himself into you, going so deep that you feel like pushing him back, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. His cock is so thick that it hits every nerve you could imagine; it’s hard to gather a single word.

He lets out a small chuckle at your reticence. “My innocent baby’s never felt a real cock before, huh?” he taunts, still pounding his length into you. You open your mouth to speak, but settle on shaking your head. One distinct tear runs down the side of your face while stifled cries pass your trembling lips with each time his balls smack into your ass. “You’re taking me like a good fucking girl,” he admires, “my good little slut.”

He lifts up your leg and rests your foot on his shoulder. You’re twisted onto your side, trying to look over your shoulder to see how vigorously he pounds into your cunt. Michael’s new positioning hits exactly in your g-spot, you feel your leg shaking under his grip. “H-holy shit,” your voice trembles, you let out a built-up breath. “Keep going, daddy! Right there, right there, I’m so close,” you’re begging, voice is flooded with desperation. You don’t care how childish you sound, you want nothing more than to come all over Michael’s big dick. “Don’t move, please, please,” you grab onto his arm again.

Tears overflow your eyes when you look into his. Just seeing his determined light blue eyes peering back at you makes you unravel even more. He has no remorse for how weak he’s making you, how vulnerable you’ve become, his unmistakable dominion turns you on.

He listens to your wails, finally granting you the satisfaction you’ve been begging for and plows into your g-spot. Your grip on him gets tighter as he thrusts harder, you’re almost certain he’s going to leave some swelling deep inside your cunt. “Your dick is so, fucking, good,” you breathe in between thrusts.

Michael doesn’t give up, keeping up the same pace and fucking you exactly how you want him to. You’re about to praise his long cock some more when you’re thrown into climax. You try looking back up at him, but you can’t say a word; your mouth hangs wide open with nothing but small chokes croaking out. He can see how dazed he’s made you and shoves your face into the ground, pushing your nose against the leather of your jacket. “You’re going to take daddy’s cock like a good little girl,” he seethes, suffocating your head into your jacket. “Don’t come,” he demands.

He continues punching your g-spot with his huge cock, you feel your pussy spasming under his rough thrusts. He holds both of your arms back, shifting you into doggy-style. His balls slap against your sore clit and you feel yourself starting to ejaculate. “Fuck!” you scream into the breeze of the empty beach. Your cunt twitches and gushes its balmy juices all over Michael’s hard cock.

He slows down his pace and pulls your arms up towards him, you feel his heaving chest against your back. “What did I just fucking say?” he fumes, tugging your arms even closer to him. “Answer me.”

“You told me not to come,” you answer in a syrupy, naïve voice.

He grabs both of your tits to push you flush against him, maintaining his rough thrusts into your cunt. “That’s right,” he whispers in your ear, “baby didn’t fucking listen.” He smacks your tits with both of his hands, striking you hard. You jump at how ruthless he hits you, it makes your stomach flutter again. His full lips lug along your neck. “Remember who you belong to,” he speaks into your neck, sending an iciness throughout your entire body.

Michael digs his teeth into your skin, sucking up your flesh while he continues massaging your breasts, pinching at the hard peaks your nipples have formed. He sucks so hard it stings, you wonder how that would feel on your pussy. His love bite begins to hurt and you shift your head away from him, he snickers. “Who do you belong to?” he whispers, lips chafing the shell of your ear.

He pinches your nipples even harder and you sob in pleasure. “Mmm, you,” you respond, looking over your shoulder to give his lips a frail kiss. “I belong to you, daddy.”

He takes in a deep breath as if shaking off your spell and regaining his confidence. He pushes you onto the ground again and goes back to fucking you like a ragdoll. “You better remember that,” he breathes, mercilessly pummeling himself into you again.

He holds both of your arms back once more, driving himself into you so hard that you’re concerned about cervix bruising. His pace slows down a bit and you look back at him, his mouth drapes open and he stares down at the back of your head. He pushes you away as he orgasms, savagely shoving your face back into the ground, as you feel his warm seed spilling inside your wet cunt. Michael groans from deep within his chest, letting out a long sigh when he’s done. “Oh, fuck,” he moans, “fuck, you sexy bitch.”

You let out a little giggle at this and he joins. He hauls himself out of you and you feel all of your muscles relax. You shift onto your back, looking up at Michael in disbelief. You’re too caught up in euphoria to comprehend what just happened. All you can think of in this moment is how fucking good he was. Even Michael has a dumbfounded look on his face.

He shakes his head and liberates a nervous laugh, “We’re so fucked up.”

You can say that again.

5K notes · View notes

kay-diggle · 5 years

Note

uhm the jk drabble im-🥵 can i request rainy day smut with jiminie🥺

Rainy Day

Summary: The rain keeps you inside but you and Jimin find a way to entertain yourselves

Pairing: Jimin x Female Reader, Established Relationship

Genre & Rating: Smut, 18+

Warnings: Smut, somewhat of a plot, dom!jimin, sub!reader, fingering, oral (m. recieving), vaginal intercourse, mention of squirting, unprotected sex, bit of a fluffy ending

Length: 4.2k

Notes: HELLOOOO!! So, I’m not sure if this is what you were looking for with this request. I kind of added a bit of a story line/backstory in this one which I never usually do which caused it to be more fluffy,so I hope the smut makes up for that LOL! It did take me like 3 days to write and it’s way longer than what I’m used to writing, so I hope you enjoy it. Again, feedback is always welcomed (but this doesn’t give an excuse to be rude) and MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Kay-Diggle’s Masterlist

You and Jimin had only started dating six months ago. The first three months were filled with hand holding while walking through the park, cuddles and movie nights, and extremely intricate dates that Jimin loved to plan for you. He was the more romantic one between you two after all.

Everything was going well until he had to leave for tour. The communication between the two of you began to falter on both ends. You were busy working while Jimin’s time was occupied with singing for thousands of adoring fans every night. Although both of you were sad and missing each other, neither of you complained; you just enjoyed the small moments you were able to share when you could spare a minute to talk on the phone.

The last time you had talked to Jimin, he explained that you wouldn’t hear from him for a day or two because the tour had become crazy busy. So, to say you were confused when you opened the door to your apartment and he was standing there would be an understatement.

“SURPRISE!!” he yelled, smile bright as ever.

He walked past you into your apartment and then turned back towards you. He saw your shocked face and couldn’t help but chuckle a little bit, watching you close the door and turn back towards him. You gave him a once over and felt the excitement rush through your body as you jumped on him, forcing him to catch you. You hadn’t even noticed the bouquet of red roses, your favorite flower, in his hand that you were currently crushing.

“AHH!! What are you doing here?” You asked, finding your way out of his arms and your feet back on the ground.

“Well, I had three free days in between shows and talked my managers into letting me fly back here for the weekend,” he smiled shyly.

“Awww! I’m happy that you wanted to see me Jimin, but shouldn’t you have stayed and rested?” you asked, suddenly concerned. You knew touring took a great amount of effort and a toll on his body and only wanted to make sure he was healthy.

“Yes, but it’s our sixth month anniversary today, so i thought why not…”

“Oh Jimin… oh my gosh honey, I’m so sorry I forgot,” you frowned, feeling genuinely terrible. He found a way to fly out all the way here for today and you had completely forgot, and now you felt like the worst girlfriend in the world.

Jimin noted your change in mood and immediately moved to comfort you, wrapping his arms around your waist and looking down into your eyes.

“Hey… it’s okay. Look, I already know you said you’ve been crazy with that project at work and stuff so it makes sense that you forgot. These things happen. It’s fine, I promise,” he kissed your cheek and you looked up at him lovingly, trying to figure out what you could’ve done to ever become this lucky.

“Besides….” he continued. “You can always make it up to me later,” he smirked, giving you a suggestive look while rubbing his hands up and down your sides.

You only laughed lightly in response. You and Jimin hadn’t had sex, or even remotely talked about it yet, so his forwardness made you way too flustered, and he noticed.

“So,” he started to change the subject. “I have the whole day planned out for us.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, yes. So why don’t you go get dressed for me, and we’ll be off to have the BEST. DATE. EVER!!”

Only, it wasn’t the best date ever. Honestly, it was the furthest thing from it.

When you went to have breakfast together, the waitress blatantly flirted with Jimin the entire time, annoying the crap out of you. Then as you were waiting for your taxi to take you to the next secret location he had planned, a dog had peed on your favorite boots and you knew the smell would only follow you for the rest of the day, which it did. And finally, when you got to the botanical gardens that Jimin planned for you guys to walk through, it started pouring down raining. You had only been out for two hours and it was barely 1 o'clock yet.

Needless to say, both you and Jimin returned to your apartment soaked and annoyed. You decided to change into some dry clothes while Jimin dressed in some basketball shorts and a tee that he had previously left at your place before the tour.

When you both sat on the couch, with only the sound of raindrops pelting your window, you turned on the TV and began channel surfing while Jimin watched you silently with his arms crossed around his chest and a permanent scowl on his face.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” you sighed.

“Hmmph” he looked away from you.

“Jimin…”

He sighed loudly and dramatically before turning his entire body towards you and taking your hands in his.

“It’s just… it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other and we haven’t had the chance to talk a lot. I missed you and it’s our anniversary and I wanted to do something special for you and then it rained,” he pouted and looked into his lap.

“Hey,” you lifted his head and looked into his beautiful brown eyes. “It’s okay. Honestly! I mean we always hang out inside. Why’s this time different?”

“Because we’ve been together for half a year now and I already feel like a shitty boyfriend as is.”

“Listen to me, you are far from a shitty boyfriend, okay. Jimin, I-” you hesitated. Neither of you have said the “Big L” yet and you weren’t sure if the timing was right, so you grabbed his face and kissed him instead.

You used your mouth to tell him everything you were too scared to say out loud. As expected, Jimin got the message loud and clear.

While your tongues collided in a fight for dominance that he was clearly winning, Jimin’s hands found their way to your hips. He rubbed lightly for a little bit, and slightly moved them down further as if he was testing the waters. When his hands finally reached your ass and he gave your right cheek a slight squeeze, you moaned into his mouth.

“Mmh.. you like that y/n?” he asked, concentrating his mouth on your neck now. He left little pecks and licks in that sensitive area of your neck, making you struggle to respond with your mouth gaped open.

He squeezed both cheeks this time and harder, prompting your response.

“Yes baby, I love the way that feels,” you whispered quietly into his ear.

“Mmm.. good girl,” he said as his hands now traveled from your ass and up to your breasts. He cupped both in his hands and began to massage them. “And how about that?”

Again, the feeling of his hands on your body left you unable to speak even though he wasn’t doing much. And when he moved from your neck to look in your eyes, expecting you to answer him, he was met with you silently looking back at, obviously flustered with red cheeks. Seeing this, he grasped your hips, pulling you to straddle his lap and he moved his hands underneath your shirt, feeling your bare breasts for a moment before pinching both of your nipples.

You let out a surprised gasp and immediately found yourself getting more wet because of his actions.

He looked up in your eyes and when you saw how lust filled his own were, you couldn’t help the amount of liquid that gushed out of you and into your panties.

“Babygirl,” he tsked. “When I ask you a question, I want an answer,” and he pinched your nipples even harder, making you wince.

“Fuck yes, that feels amazing,” you wrapped your arms around his shoulders now. “And I think I know where your hands will feel even better…” you trailed off.

He raised an eyebrow at you questioningly. You moved to take off your shirt while his hands were still underneath it, now giving him full access. Usually you’d be more shy, but seeing how much he wanted you, you felt a boost of confidence shoot throughout your entire body, and the longing look on his face only made you want to do more. Originally, you intended to move his hands into your pants, but now you wanted to focus on his pleasure.

With that, you shimmied off his lap and found your way to your knees between his legs, looking up at him with the most seductive face you could muster. He didn’t say anything, only looked down at you with a questioning stare. But when your hands reached for the waistband of his shorts, he stopped you.

“Y/n, we don’t… you don’t have to. I didn’t mean to make you feel like we had to do anything. We don’t. I’m sorry if I pushed you into-”

“Jimin, stop. I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time. Just relax love,” you smiled and went back to taking his shorts off.

He raised his ass off of the couch lightly to assist you in undressing him, taking off both his shorts and boxers in one go, and then took off his shirt and tossed it somewhere on the floor of the living room along with your own.

When you saw his penis for the first time, you were mesmerized. It was by far the prettiest you had ever seen. With his precum leaking out of his tip adding onto its beauty, you grasped it in your hand with a loose grip. You looked up at him before you licked a stripe from the base of his dick up until the head, tasting the salty precum. You did this a few more times while stroking just to get a feel for it before Jimin finally spoke up.

“Baby, what you’re doing is great and all but please,” he groaned and bit his lip as he felt you tighten your grip around his dick the second he started speaking.

You decided then to get serious. Licking him just one more time, you moved to put just the tip in your mouth and began sucking. At this, you felt his dick harden even more, prompting you to deep throat him. You felt the veins around his cock in your throat as you swallowed and the sound of Jimin’s whimpering at your actions made you swallow even harder. He was thick as it is and with him lodged in your throat, you were having a hard time and he could tell.

“Breathe through your nose baby, it’s okay,” he said trying to guide you through it.

Following his instructions did make it easier, but you were still struggling so you ended up coming off him anyways, deciding to stroke his dick instead. He looked down with a disappointing look and quickly shook his head. Standing up, he bent over and gathered your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

“You said you’ve been wanting to do this for a LONG time y/n, so you have to do it right baby.”

He removed your hand from his dick and replaced it with his own, stroking it lightly while still maintaining eye contact with you. When you moved your hands to sit on your things, he moved his dick towards your lips, smearing the precum and saliva mixed together on your lips.

“Open,” he commanded.

You let your mouth fall open and felt his dick go down your throat once again. With his hand at the back of your head holding your hair together, he guided your mouth up and down his length. Your jaw went slack, letting him take over and fuck your mouth at his own will. Things got nasty really fast, with your spit reaching from his dick, down your breasts and to the floor. He bent down slightly to take your breast in his hand and play with your hard nipples some more, pinching and pulling them to his will. With his hands working on you and the way he was grunting, you were turned on beyond belief. His sounds only got better as you moved your hand up to him, rubbing his balls with your palms.

Your other hand absentmindedly traveled down to your covered heat, rubbing yourself through your shorts and panties. It felt good and you couldn’t help but moan onto his dick, the vibrations hitting him hard and nearly causing him to cum straight down your throat.

Jimin looked down to see what had you moaning, and saw how fast your hand was moving beneath you. He pulled your mouth off of his dick and bent down to pull your hand away from him and yourself as well.

“Did I say you could touch yourself? Or weren’t you supposed to be focused on sucking my cock like you asked me to do? Hmm,” he asked sarcastically, pulling you up to stand by your hair and bending you over onto the couch.

“I’m sorry Jimin, it’s just letting you fuck my face turns me on so much baby,” you said as you laid your cheek against the couch cushion.

“Hmm… I’m sure it did you little nasty slut,” he spanked your ass cheek, making you moan out.

You felt his hand release your hair, and then travel down the arch in your back to the waistband of your shorts, pulling them off along with your damp panties. He then pressed a finger right against your clit which had you gasping in surprise but pushing yourself back towards him at the same time.

“Just look at how fucking wet you are for me, my baby. And all this just from sucking my dick? Hmm, you loved sucking my dick so much that you ruined your panties?” he pressed his finger harder into your clit.

“Yes, I love it so fucking much. Hmm please fuck me Jimin!”

He turned you over and leaned down to kiss you. It seemed like in this moment, he slipped out of his dominant persona and was back to your loving boyfriend that was sweeter than candy.

“Are you sure you really want to, y/n? We really don’t have to, I promise.”

“Yes Jimin, please. Please fuck me. I just want your dick inside me so bad right now,” you said as you reached down and began stroking him again.

Jimin growled before he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. He carried you into your room and placed you on the bed gentler than you were expecting. However, he wasn’t so gentle when he grasped your ankles and pulled your body towards the edge of the bed where he was standing so that your legs were hanging off the bed.

He collected both of your wrists in his hand and leaned over your body to plant them over your head. He kissed your lips once again while his other hand stroked your thigh. When you saw him open his mouth again, you stopped him immediately.

“Jimin, if you ask me if i’m sure again, i’m going to kick you out,” you bucked your hips against his own.

He chuckled at this, and then looked at you darkly.

“Fine. How about this, I’m going to let your hands go and if you move them, I’m leaving you like this. Alone,” he challenged you.

You raised your eyebrow at him as he let your wrists go, licking his pointer and middle finger and swiping them down your slit. You couldn’t help the loud moan that you let out. It felt good to finally get the friction that you were yearning for down there. He made sure to touch everywhere but your clit and meanwhile, you were struggling to keep your hands where he placed them. And it became even more of a struggle when he pressed his fingers directly against your clit again and rubbed slowly, what seemed like the figure 8. Your breathing haltered, and you decided that you couldn’t wait anymore.

“Jimin baby, it’s time now. Please.”

“Hm.. I don’t know love, that didn’t sound too convincing to me. Beg me. And hurry up before I change my mind about fucking you.”

“Baby, I need your cock in me so badly. Please give it to me. I’ll do whatever you say. I promise I’ll be a good little slut and keep my hands where you want them. My body is yours. Just please-”

You couldn’t continue your sentence and left your mouth hanging wide open, letting out a soft “oh” at the feeling of his dick unexpectedly pushing into you and bottoming out.

Jimin’s length was thick, so you thought the stretch to accommodate his entry would hurt more, but seeing as though he had gotten you so wet, you barely felt any pain. No, the only thing you felt was the pleasure that came from him sliding against your walls. You hadn’t had sex since a few months before you and Jimin became official, so this was definitely something you had been missing.

On the other hand, for Jimin, it felt euphoric to be inside of you. The feeling of your heat being completely wrapped around him had him on cloud 9. He gave you a moment to adjust, but once he saw that you didn’t need much time, he began to slowly pull out of you, letting out low moans, and push back inside. Continuing his movements, he eventually set a rhythm at a mild pace and added more movement of his hips. He wanted to drag this out for as long as he could to cling to the feeling, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to do that if he went all out.

For you it also felt amazing, but you weren’t entirely satisfied. At the moment, you didn’t know if you could form a coherent sentence and felt the urge to move forward and grab his hips to guide him and show that you needed more. However, you didn’t want to move your hands from their position and risk the chance of Jimin actually pulling out of you and leaving, so you opted for wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you and ultimately deeper inside you.

At that, Jimin halted his movements with a whispered “fuck.” He looked at you and you couldn’t help but smirk at him. You loved seeing that your actions could affect him as much as his did you.

“You think that was cute huh? Let me show you something cute then, slut.”

He moved your hands himself, pinning them to your sides and giving you an authoritarian look that said ‘you better not even think about moving these.’ Then he unwrapped your legs from his hips and pushed your ankles forward, planting your feet on the edge of the bed, outside of his thighs. Afterwards, his hand wrapped around the back of your neck, moving your head forward and giving you a great view of his dick that was currently buried deep inside of you.

The moment his eyes caught yours is also the moment you felt his movements start back up, but unlike before, he was going faster and harder. His pelvis was smacking against yours hard, and you felt his balls hitting your butt as well. The sound of skin slapping on skin turned you on even more, but what was doing it for you the most was being able to visually see what was happening. You couldn’t look away and Jimin realized this rather quickly.

“Look at the way your pussy is just swallowing my dick. You like it don’t you? You like how it looks, love how it feels?”

“Yes, FUCK I love it,” you sobbed out.

At this point, you had tears rushing down your cheeks because of his handiwork. It felt too good and the fact that you couldn’t move your hands was driving you even more crazy. You decided to grasp the bed sheets in a tight grip instead just so you didn’t completely lose your mind, and Jimin couldn’t be bothered with reprimanding you, too lost in his own pleasure.

You were both crying out at this point, and you swore that you’d never heard anything that sounded better. You knew you would cum soon and with the way his dick was pulsing like crazy inside of you, so would he.

“Jimin please, please just let me touch you. Please, please, please, please, please,” you chanted out like it was a mantra with each of his thrusts.

Once he gave you a groaned out “go ahead,” the first thing you did was rub your hands all over his body, starting with his arms, then shoulders, then chest, just wanting to feel him. All of him. And you really did once he let go of your neck and grabbed the back of your knees to push them towards your chest. The new angle allowed him to go even deeper and hit new spots, including that special one. With this, you literally screamed out.

“There it is,” Jimin gloated and sent you a devious smile to which you couldn’t respond. Your mouth was literally left in that “oh” position, and you felt like it would never move from there again.

With every thrust into your spongy button, Jimin was sending you closer and closer to your end. It had never felt this intense before and you were literally at a loss for words. Closing your eyes, you gripped Jimin’s wrist just to feel his skin which made him actually pay attention to you and realize just how close you were.

“Y/n… hmm… y/n open your eyes baby. Look at me while you cum.”

At his instruction, you open your eyes to see his own peering straight into yours and that was all it took. You felt the knot in your stomach tighten and then disappear as you began to convulse around his dick. You literally saw stars and it was as if you had blacked out for a moment.

“Holy shit! You just fucking squirted. I can feel it running down my balls.” Jimin said, halting his movements while still inside of you. “Fuck that’s so hot,” he added in a whisper while staring directly where your bodies connected.

You were still out of it so his words really hadn’t registered with you until you dropped one of your hands from his wrist to feel the sheets under you completely soaked. You looked down for a moment until you felt Jimin twitch inside you again, realizing he hadn’t finished himself.

“Baby, please cum. I need it. Please,” you egged him on.

With this, he bent down closer to you and continued his fast thrusts, solely focusing on his own pleasure now. It was almost hard to move inside of you, as you had gotten unbelievably tight after your orgasm, but the juices from your squirting helped a lot. In a few seconds, he was close, way too close.

“I’m close… fuck I’m going to cum. Where do I cum y/n?” he looked down into your eyes while biting his lip.

“My chest. My body. Anywhere, just please cum. I want to feel it.”

He pulled out of you, letting your legs down and stroking himself until his hot seed spilled all over your stomach and chest.

“You are fucking amazing,” he hunched over your body, leaning down to kiss you.

This one was passionate and filled with so much emotion, exactly like what you’d expect a kiss from your boyfriend to be like after you’d just had sex together for the first time. Pulling away from your lips, he gave you a gentle smile that you returned before he walked into the bathroom. While he was away, other than the throbbing between your legs, the only thing you could think about was how you were to get the stain from out of your carpet. Jimin returned with a wet wash rag to clean the mess he had made on your body.

Later that night, you found yourself letting out a content sigh while leaning your back against his body in the bath you were currently sharing. His fingertips lightly traced shapes against your leg, his thoughts straying back to what had just happened between the two of you.

“You know, I’ve never made a girl squirt before,” he whispered in your ear.

“Hmm.. well I’m happy I could be the first,” you turned towards him, the water sloshing as you planted a peck on his cheek.

Just when you were about to turn back, his wet hands caught your cheeks, making you look back up at him.

“I love you, Y/n. So much.”

In that moment, you swore you had never smiled bigger in your life.

“Jimin, I love you too. So much,” you added. “And I’m excited to for the next six months of our lives together.”

“Six months? No. I’m excited for the rest of our lives together,” he smiled pulling your closer and leaning in.

You two shared another passionate kiss as you could still hear the rain outside of your window.

#bts #bts smut #bangtan smut #bangtan boys #bts imagine #bts one shot #bts drabble #jimin smut #jimin imagine #jimin one shot #jimin drabble #dom!jimin #sub!reader #bts jimin #TAKING BTS REQUESTS

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angelbaugh-writes · 4 years

Text

Game Night {Steve Rogers x Reader}

Request: could you uhm 😳😳 do dialogue prompt 10 with steve tysm ily

Warnings: maybe a few curse words, implications of sexy times

Author’s Note: I hope you guys like this! It ended up a little longer than anticipated. Please show it some love. Thank you so so much for reading. I love you all! Xox Angel Baugh

Your life purpose was to fluster Steve Rogers until he broke. Flirting with Captain America started by accident, but it quickly became your favorite thing to do. Between the cheesy pick-up lines and suggestive comments, Steve’s face would turn bright red. What got to him most was the less-than-holy touches you started doing. It’s not that you did anything risque, the farthest you’ve gone was scoot past him in a very tight place, but he knew that your lingering touches had a deeper meaning behind them.

But Steve Rogers still couldn’t get the hint that you were interested. It frustrated you to no end. You couldn’t just sit him down and tell him you were madly in love with him. How well would that go? Sure, the worst that could happen would be that Steve rejects you. You would know that it was time to get over him, but that would also end in humiliation. He would tell Bucky or Sam. Sam would spread the embarrassing let down to the whole team and then some. That man could not keep a secret to save his life. The only option was to not tell Steve until you were sure of his feelings. You just had to hope that you wouldn’t out yourself before that.

***

The sun was just rising when you woke up. It was the start to a -hopefully mission free- weekend. Although there was no reason you should be waking up so early on a Saturday, it had become a habit to spend the quiet time talking with whoever else was awake.

”Good morning, Sweet Cheeks,” you greeted Steve as you entered the kitchen. You made sure to say hello to Sam and Bucky as well.

“Morning, Y/N. I poured you a cup of coffee just like you like it.” You smiled at the blond, thanking him before picking up the mug that sat next to his.

Sam feigned hurt, “Buck, why doesn’t Stevie make our coffee? When I asked him to he said no.”

“Yeah, that’s a dick move. Maybe if we seduce ‘im like Y/N does, we’ll be able to convince him to do whatever we want!”

You jumped up to sit on the counter next to where Steve was standing. You watched as the grown men in front of you dramatically told each other what they would make the man next to you do.

“Do you think they’ll notice if we sneak off,” you whispered. He let out a small chuckle.

“I think we could start kissing and they wouldn’t even look our way.”

You smirked, “Want to try out that theory?” Steve shook his head, a small smile adorning his lips as he took a sip of his coffee. “Fine, then. You can make it up to me by being my partner at tonight’s game night.”

“I was going to be your partner either way. Neither of these goons are helpful. Unlike them, we’re a force to be reckoned with.” He lifted his mug towards yours, offering a cheers. You obliged.

A buzz from your phone pulled you from your conversation. Natasha had sent you a text requesting your company in the training room. You sighed.

“I’m sorry, my love, but I must go. Until tonight?” you spoke dramatically. “I’ll think about you every moment until I see you again.”

“Okay, Y/N. I’ll see you later,” Steve chuckled.

***

You rummaged through your desk. You could not find the damn thing you were looking for. The game night was starting in ten minutes, and Tony hated it when anybody was late. There was no time for this. A gasp left your mouth as you finally felt the familiar thread. It took you three minutes to run to the living room. After tripping more times than you’d like to admit, you finally slid into the already crowded room.

“I’m here! Suck it, Tony!” you spoke excitedly.

“It took you long enough.” Shaking your head, you made your way to sit on the arm of the chair Steve was sitting in.

Natasha rolled her eyes, “No need to get angry already. So what’s the game for the night?”

“I am glad you asked.” Tony stood up as he spoke. “I came to the conclusion that Monopoly and Poker can only be so fun for some of us. So I took it upon myself to get a new card game for the team game nights.”

“Get on with it already,” Sam interrupted.

“I’m getting there. After scouring the web, I found a game perfect enough to get the old men more acquainted to today’s culture. Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to introduce Cards Against Humanity to the team.” Tony held up the box proudly. You shook your head at his dramatic antics. “Like usual game night, You can be in pairs or by yourself. I’m pretending that somebody other than Steve and Y/N is going to want to work together. The first to ten points wins. Let’s play ball!”

You turned to Steve as the cards were dealt and everyone got situated, “I brought us good luck charms.” The friendship bracelets were black. A small, four-leaf clover charm was positioned in the middle of each. Steve couldn’t stop from smiling.

“You are such a dork,” he spoke, allowing you to tie the bracelet on his wrist.

“You love it. Besides, you’d be losing every game night if it wasn’t for me.”

“I can’t say you’re wrong.”

The game was full of laughter and disgusted faces from Steve, who would occasionally have to ask you what one of your cards meant. His face would turn a cherry red when you whispered the licentious answer in his ear, mumbling a timid ‘oh’ in response. Natasha was winning so far, with you and Steve close behind.

“I vote we take an intermission,” Bruce said, “I need a break for snacks.”

“I second that. I’ve needed to pee since four rounds in,” Sam exclaimed before rushing out of the room.

The room dispersed as everyone went their own ways for the time being. You stood up and stretched. Turning, you reached your hand out to Steve to help him out of the chair.

“This game is...fun?” he laughed. Your heart fluttered at the sound.

“I could think of a few other fun things we could do. We’d just have to go to my room to do it,” you flirted with ease. “I’m sure Sam would love to take our point for us while we sneak off.”

“Oh, really? Care to elaborate?” So he was going to play along now?

You leaned in closer to him, your lips barely grazing his ear, “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about, Captain. I’ve told you plenty of information tonight that we could work with.”

“Which on do you plan to start with?” With that, your facade broke. Steve never flirted back like this. He smirked down at you, “Cat got your tongue, doll?”

“Date me, coward,” you couldn’t stop the words spilling out of your mouth. “I’ve been flirting with you for months, and I don’t think you quite understand that I’m in love with you. Just fucking ask me out already before I implode. Please don’t talk to me like that if you don’t mean it.”

Now the secret’s out. Your face heats up as the realization dawns on you.

“Are you free tomorrow night, then?”

“Pardon?” your brows furrowed in confusion.

“I’d like to take you on a date. Is that okay, love?”

You smiled, “That’s more than okay.”

“Game time!” Tony yelled as he walked into the room.

You frowned, “I never got a snack, though.”

“You should’ve thought about that before you and Cap decided to smooch while everyone was out of the room.” You rolled your eyes at him, flipping him off in the process.

Everyone returned to their spots quickly. You took your seat on the arm of the chair, but Steve pulled you down onto his lap. A gasp fell from your lips. His arm wrapped around your waist as you lean into him. Game night became a little bit better.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #Steve Rogers #captain america x reader #captain america #sam wilson #Bucky Barnes #winter soldier #tony stark #Iron Man #natasha romanoff #Black Widow #bruce banner #hulk #The Avengers #Avengers #marvel

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jason-the-mommas-boy · 5 years

Note

hello darling Narrator!! okay idc if this is a request or something for the book but,,, Jason helping his s/o with their hair/makeup,,, he’s so precious and would be so gentle when working with hair?? he might not be the best at it but he’s number one in my heart

aa!! anon, im so sorry that this took so long but I just really loved this idea and I also mixed it with one of the february prompts I had planned so that’s the main reason it took this long aaa…I hope you enjoy it though!! also bonus points for anyone who knows what the book I reference is at the end)

Jason Voorhees braids his S/O’s hair (and more)

Prompt / Summary - Sleepover!!! / nails prompt from the 2020 February prompt list made by @ / hiddendreamer67 (yes ill be doing all of them eventually!!)

Word Count: 6.7k

Jason can’t remember much about his childhood after all these years.

Yes, of course, he remembers his mommy, the bullies that tortured him at the camp, and the overwhelming feeling of water running down into his lungs. But the small details have completely dropped from his memory as his decaying body grew older. Though, as soon as you entered into his life and he accepted that fact, the small stuff you did would irk the forgotten things.

You taking his measurements for example. You were going to get him a new shirt as a surprise once you learned that he absolutely adored turtlenecks, but you needed to make sure it would fit on the giant man! Jason didn’t question it, if he had to be honest, you had done weirder things. Much to his surprise, this little action had reminded him back to when he was just a kid, his mommy doing the same exact thing! She’d take his measurements, and leave a kiss on his forehead for behaving so well afterwards.

These memories often left him feeling happier. It was something positive that he could take away from when he was a child as most things were very negative. But it also meant that you just kept putting a positive impact on his life! You were such an angel in his eyes.

A few days ago, he had another one of these moments. It was late in the evening when you arrived at Jason’s cabin, a little bit of (messy) makeup adorning your face. You had a big meeting at your job that day and felt like it was important to look better than usual so you wouldn’t leave an okay or worse impression.

You’re a little dumbfounded when your boyfriend opens the door to let you in, he freezes up, and goes blank. He’s never seen you in makeup before! And??? If he didn’t already have a dead heart, it would have stopped beating at that very moment! You were so pretty already and now you’re even more pretty??? Oh, RIP this poor man. It seems like every other day you were giving him an entirely new reason to love you.

But it also reminded him of when he was younger. His mommy would let him put makeup on her face if he wished to do so after a particularly long day at camp. He’d grab a washcloth and clean her face before placing a lot of makeup on her. He thought his mommy looked just lovely with it and it would always destress him or calm him down.

“Jason?” Your voice called out, pulling him away from the trance you had put him in.

Right, you were still outside the cabin, waiting for him. He let you inside, taking a step to the side. A warm fire was already ready when you stepped in, the warmth inviting you to sit and relax. But even before you even thought about taking a seat on that couch, Jason stopped you and made sure you were paying attention to him for the minute. He made the heart shape with his hands and then he gestured towards your face.

It took a moment before you realized what he was trying to say. With a smile, you looked up to him. “Aww! Do you like my makeup?”

He nodded, happy that his message came across.

He made another notion quickly afterwards, pointing to your lips. He wasn’t sure how else to express what he wanted to do! Being mute could be extremely difficult sometimes.

You tilted your head, giving him a confused look. “Err, wha?”

Uh, okay. This time he tried to hold an imaginary brush up to your face and made a few strokes, as if he were painting on a canvas. Was that any better? He wasn’t exactly sure.

Silence. Then you blink a few times, having stared at his fingers with a skeptical face.

“You would like to do my makeup?”

Jason nodded again, this time much more excited. He’s already shown that he just loved brushing your hair, which made sense. He didn’t have any hair of his own and probably found the action itself soothing. So it’s really no surprise to you that he’d like to do your makeup as well! Honestly, your boyfriend just loved doing stuff for you.

You pat his arm as an idea popped into your head! “Jason! Why don’t we just have a sleepover? You can do my makeup and hair and I’ll do your nails! How’s that sound to my special boy?”

Oh! Sure!

You didn’t have any of your makeup with you, though. You were more than sure that Jason didn’t either. Yeah, he took everything he could find from the dead campers, but it was pretty unlikely the people here would pack lipstick in their supplies.

It seemed like Jason was having the same thoughts as you. He was also a little disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to do your makeup tonight, but he was still just as happy to have you here, in his home, and hopefully, be in his arms soon.

You bite your lip. “Don’t worry I’ll bring everything we need, okay?” You got an understanding nod in response. Okay, cool!

Oh, but a sleepover??? The masked killer can’t remember if he ever had a sleepover before. Probably not. He never recalled having any friends back at camp besides his mommy, but she was always busy with her job as the cook most of the time.

You’ve also never stayed the night before! There were so many new experiences you were providing him!

“Is this weekend okay with you? That way I can come by early perrrhaps? I don’t want you to put makeup on me just to take it off before we sleep.”

He shook his head as if to say, Oh, absolutely not, there could be campers out there to hurt you-

You bit your lip and tugged at his sleeve. “Pleeease? Take a few hours off that routine for me? I’m sure there’ll be no teenagers running about.”

Oh, what was he thinking? He couldn’t say no to you. As long as you were spending all that time with him, it was okay. More time spent with you, the better, he guessed. With a nod, he pressed his mask against your forehead, mocking a kiss.

With the plan made, all there was needed to do was wait on Jason’s part. Which he already continuously struggled with on a daily basis. Yes, he had patience for the kill, but he did not have patience to wait for you!

Well, Jason assumed that if you were going to stay the night, you would most likely want a warm place to sleep. While he had his own bedroom, it was extremely cold, no thanks to the giant hole in the roof. He also found that the tunnels underneath were also unfit, as they were cramped and filled with rats. He didn’t know your opinion on the rodents but he didn’t want to give you a scare. He considered moving the fireplace for a moment, but then realized it would be chilly in the main room instead! Were you fine with sleeping on the couch (with himself by your side)?

The next few days would pass by, agonizingly slow in Jason’s opinion, but he wouldn’t complain. You still visited at night to hang out with him! To cuddle on the couch and let you talk about your day. He just loved having you in his arms (or be in your arms!) and just being able to enjoy your company as much as you enjoyed his. He was just too excited for his own good sometimes.

As much as time mocked the poor boy, it also went by terrifyingly fast. The weekend was already here! The sun found itself sitting at the horizon just as Jason was making his way around the woods, reminiscing on the events of the past few nights with you. He needed to make sure there were definitely no campers at or around the camp. He just wants to enjoy his first sleepover with you and not have any disruptions! Only when he was sure that the area was free of intruders, he made his way back to his home.

A step in and he’s already on his way to get stuff out for the sleepover. He places a stack of firewood near the fireplace, enough to last the whole night to keep you all nice and warm. Well, he thinks it’s enough, but knowing Jason, he probably overstocked.. He doesn’t have the best sense of time unfortunately. To play it safe, he also had a couple of blankets sitting on the couch so that you would not freeze to death in the middle of the night, especially since he didn’t provide any body heat. Oh, and pillows, of course. Your comfort was his top priority.

Did you need food? You never really ate when you visited before…maybe you would at least need something to eat in the morning. But if you were to even mention being hungry before then, he would leap at the opportunity to do something for you. His chest always seemed to get fuzzy when you praised him and he genuinely liked that feeling. It was a drive to do more things for you, though he would have done anything for you even if he didn’t. Your happiness was the goal that he set to achieve every time you step foot on his grounds.

Just as he sets extra pillows down on the couch, he hears the ring of the bells chime in a familiar pattern from down below. Loud enough for him to hear, but quiet enough for no one else to pick up on it unless they were paying attention. It was your way of communicating that you were almost to the cabin for a visit.

Oh, he was excited. There was no use in hiding that. He just loved it whenever you came by, no matter if it was almost a nightly basis. It was the idea that you were sleeping over that really excited him. There was the aspect of being able to do your makeup and hair as well. The detail that you wanted to take care of his nails didn’t slip by him either, but he wasn’t sure on what that really meant.

He lifts his hands up so they’re in his eye view, turning them so he could look at his fingernails. Was there something wrong with his nails? He didn’t think so, maybe they were just too long? Jason wasn’t really that caught up in how much self-care was deemed acceptable in society, he just didn’t care, but maybe he should be taking care of himself better. He did have a significant other to impress now.

He shrugs the thought off, leaning down on one knee to toss some logs into the fireplace. The lack of self cleanliness didn’t seem to bother you from what he could tell. Yeah, he had the decency to let you wash his clothes every now and then or stand out in the rain in attempt to wash off the dirt and blood on his jacket and jeans (much to your dismay), but he didn’t do much other than that.

With newspaper and wood in the fireplace, it was set for a fire, to which he eagerly started. He has no need to stay warm, he didn’t get sick or anything alike, and didn’t even mind the cold, but the heat that the fire provided was a reminder of you. Not just because he only set the fire just for you when you were about to arrive, but also because it reminded him of your warmth, the body heat that you radiated. You were just so warm compared to him, which was no surprise as he was a walking corpse and you were a living human being.

The fire itself finally roars to life, flames intertwining with one another as he stands back up. A smile found itself on his lips, it was genuinely a funny thought that you were perfectly okay with dating someone that was like a zombie, even as going far as cuddling and kissing him. He was a murderer too but you seemed to be okay with this fact too after a while. It was understood that he wanted to be left alone on his land and wanted no guests, with you as the odd exception to this rule. You weren’t afraid of who he was, not even slightly disgusted, and with this fact, his undead heart overflowed with emotion in his chest.

Jason was unknowingly poking at the fire with a stick, struck with this sense of boredom while still being excited for your arrival. He didn’t know how to explain it, maybe it was just a side effect of impatience when something he was waiting for was so close. He runs his tongue over his teeth, trying to understand this new emotion to the best of his abilities. This wasn’t the first time that you, whether you meant it or not, caused him to feel something entirely new.

It seems like all you did was provide new. New emotions, experiences, memories, desires, and a lot of many other things he couldn’t put his finger on. It was all new to him, as most of his years were spent feeling anger and remorse, killing anyone who dared to step on the campgrounds. He wasn’t the way he was now though, only shaped by the world, your kindness and childhood memories he would find along the way. He’d been a blank slate with a few morals already set in place, a curious young boy eager to learn given the opportunity.

A gentle knock kicks him out from his thinking, dragging his attention away from the fire to the door.

You were here!

Dropping his poking stick, he scrambles to the door to open it. With a motion, the door was opened and boom, you were there! The ever-so adorable you was standing at his doorstep, a backpack scooped up in your arms, and a smile on your face. You were practically a beam of sunshine in his dark little corner of the world at this very moment.

“Hey!” You greet, moving the bag in your arms so you could wave at the masked killer of Camp Blood.

He waves back before plucking the backpack from you with ease and moving aside so you could enter. You were a guest in his home and Jason was not going to allow you to do any physical labor, even if it wasn’t a big deal for you. The bag itself wasn’t even that heavy, and probably felt like a feather in Jason’s hand, but your boyfriend didn’t care.

You roll your eyes playfully and walk inside, making sure to close the door behind you as well. “Why, thank you, Jason.”

The way he perks up at your praise does not go unnoticed, the smile behind his hockey mask completely evident. He nods in response, shrugging in the process as to say that it wasn’t a big deal.

A gentle hand sets on your shoulder as he leads you to the couch, to where the warm fire and blankets were. He was no stranger to the cold outside, even if it was early enough for the sun to be out. You oblige (there was no use in fighting with your boyfriend on this, was there?) and set yourself on the old cushions.

You take a folded blanket off the stack of squares and smile, more to yourself. Jason didn’t need to go out of his way to find his stash of blankets, as experience reminds you that he had to go searching for one for a little bit the first time you complained that you were cold. Maybe it really did get that chilly at night here.

Unfolding the blanket as the gentle giant beside you took his own seat, you sit up and place a kiss on the lower part of Jason’s hockey mask. “Mmm, thank you.” And, to make sure he understood, you rest the blanket on both of your laps.

It seems that no matter how many times you show him physical affection, he’ll never really get used to it. It’s alien to him no matter what, as it always got him to freeze up and take a few moments to unwind the growing flustered feelings. Even if the kiss wasn’t directly skin-to-skin contact, the act itself always made the poor boy feel overwhelmed if he wasn’t prepared for it or the one initiating the affection first.

With a slow nod, Jason leans down to return the favor with a mock kiss on the forehead. His mask wasn’t exactly the most pleasant thing to feel, the fiberglass was always cold to the touch. This was more than likely due to the body heat your boyfriend seems to never produce. It was also a bit rough, with all the cuts from the use over the years.

The masked killer sitting by your side gently taps your shoulder with two fingers to gain your attention before it could drift away, lifting your backpack into his lap and tilting his head as if to say What is this for?

You giggle, finding his curiosity cute. “It’s my things for the sleepover.”

He tilts his head the other way. Surely you did not have that much makeup just lying around.

“It isn’t just the stuff I said I would bring silly.”

Oh?

Taking the bag from his grasp, you pull the longest zipper open to reveal clothes and a few toiletries. You grab a shirt as an example to show him. “I brought things like pajamas to wear tonight and clothes to change into tomorrow. My toothbrush, toothpaste, lotion, and all that stuff.”

Ah. So there was more to taking care of yourself than just keeping your clothes clean. Jason nods, understanding. Of course you would bring other things to make sure you kept clean.

You place the piece of clothing back into the backpack and reach further in to locate and pull out a hairbrush. You eye the object for a moment before looking back up to your expectant boyfriend. “You wanted to brush my hair, right?”

He nods again with a child-like glee in his eyes, he just adored brushing your hair.

Instead of simply handing the brush over, you point to his hands. “You know the drill, Silly. Your hands must be clean before you can touch my hair.”

With a glance towards where you had pointed, Jason realizes that his hands are grimey and covered in dirt. While it was true that his hands weren’t dirty enough to leave marks on anything, it still would be the best route to clean his hands before touching your hair. He didn’t want to ruin your pretty hair!

The cabin he resided in no longer had running water as the years passed by, and while Jason could do many things, he didn’t know how to make the sink work again. To make up for that, he keeps water bottles he’s stolen from campers and the few you got him in his (no longer working) fridge. He really didn’t need water, his body didn’t require it to function properly, and only really kept the water to wash his hands and other things if he needed to.

So, he was stuck washing his hands awkwardly in the sink that didn’t work with some soap bar he found most of the time. And that’s what he’s planning to do as he pushed the blanket off his lap to the side and stood up. Well, before you tugged at the sleeve of his jacket.

When he looks down to you, you smile and tilt your head, an action Jason would have done if he had a question. “Can I wash your hands? I need to scrub those nails.” You pause, seeing the confusion in his eyes. “For the nail polish and stuff.” Another awkward pause, was he waiting for something? “Just uh, fill a bowl with water and bring it over here with the soap, okay?”

The masked killer stood there for a moment before nodding, agreeing to your request. He leans down to pat your head and continues to make his way toward the decaying kitchen to grab what he needed. He could practically feel his heart flutter in his chest, almost questioning if it would leap out and start running all over the place. One of his favorite things in the world was having your tiny hands in his. It didn’t matter if your hands were actually tiny compared to another normal human’s, they were tiny in his hands! It genuinely made him feel like his heart was melting.

Wait. Did he have any bowls in the cabin? He should, right? It seems like such a silly question to ask himself, but he never really looked into the kitchen. He didn’t need food or water and he was perfectly okay with using his mother’s machete as a murder weapon, so there was no use in searching the kitchen for stuff he simply didn’t need. And when did he ever recall the use of a bowl?

He takes a step into the kitchen, somewhat hesitant and suddenly feeling lost in his own home. The bowls would be in the cabinet if his memory served him right. With one swift movement, he finds himself standing at multiple cabinets connected to the wall. Pulling at the tiny knob, there’s a relief flooding through him when he does find the bowls sitting there right in front of him.

They were a little dusty and a little cracked from age, but that’s okay. He eyes them and picks out one that looks like it was the least likely to spill anything. They weren’t very big, probably couldn’t even fit one of his hands in it, but it was better than having to head down into the tunnels and go scavenge for some doggy dish.

Satisfied, he closes the cabinet and grabs the other two items he needs to be able to complete his little quest and sit back down with you.

His little feet stomps were enough to tell you that Jason was walking back and by the time you were going to turn your head around to greet him again, he was sitting back down on the couch. Ah, right. Mister long legs.

You lend your hand out, a way of asking for the bowl that he had in his grasp, to which he complied. “Thank you again.” You smile at him, gently squeezing his hand before taking the bowl, which was holding the water bottle and an unopened bar of soap.

You move the objects out of the dish, quickly filling it with the water instead with the help of Jason steadying the bowl in his hands so it wouldn’t spill over. You balance it in a safe spot between the two of you, getting the man before you to wet his hands as you take the bar of soap out of the box.

Wetting the soap just after Jason moves himself out of your way, you gesture for him to give you one of his hands and set to gently scrubbing at his palm. He was perfectly capable of washing his own hands, but it was going to be easier if it was you picking at the dirt in his nails. Also, his hands were nice, there was no denying that.

You look up, making an attempt to keep the silence sitting in the air at bay. “Have you ever had your nails painted before?”

He shakes his head. An obvious answer to you now when you consider that the poor boy didn’t have any friends when he was younger.

Feeling a bit of guilt boil in your gut, you bite your lip and try to keep the conversation positive in case any unwanted memories found their way to Jason. “Well, I don’t have many colors to choose from, but you’re free to choose what you want. We can do different colors if you’d like.”

Jason nods to this, the proposal more than agreeable. Honestly, he was just happy to have an excuse to feel your fingers on his. It left the tips of his ears feeling tingly, a very pleasant buzz that probably would have left a blush on his cheeks.

“Just, uh, don’t touch anything after I paint your nails! They’re gonna need to dry off.” It was a reminder that needed to be set. If someone hadn’t told you to not go touch crazy when you were younger, nail polish would have gotten on everything. But Jason gives another nod, understanding.

Okay, next hand. You pat his other arm as you let go of the one you just finished scrubbing the dirt and grime off of. And with that, you start your work.

“How would you like to put my hair up this time? Braids? Ponytail? Bun?” You grab his attention with a smile and wait for his answer.

It takes him a moment before he raises his recently cleaned hand up with one index finger up, indicating the first option you listed. “Braids, huh?”

He nods, confirming his answer to you.

“Okay!” You squeeze his hand, giggling somewhat. The first time he tried to put your hair up in braids was a little more than just messy, but it was fun for you both in the process and in the end result.

The water in the bowl was a little more than dirty by the time you give back Jason’s hand, leaving both of them cleaner than before. You drop the bar of soap back into its box and set it and the dish on the floor to move it out of the way.

Jason is wondering if he should wipe his hands off on his dirty pants or not, and settles for very carefully drying them off on his shirt. He didn’t want to erase the effort you put into scrubbing his palms but he also didn’t want to make your hair wet. You offer him your hairbrush for him to take, and with nothing in the way between you two, you scoot in closer to his lap and turn around.

It only takes a few moments until you feel a very light trace of fingers running around your hairline. At this point, it feels like you are never going to get used to how gentle your boyfriend is around you when you know how much strength he can put out at will. It draws a shudder out of you as he drags his fingers through your hair and you easily relax into his touch.

It didn’t matter if your hair was a mess, greasy, tangled up, or just plain gross, Jason loved it. For someone to trust him enough to be able to be this close and touch something such as their hair without a care in the world reminds him of what he so dearly needed. Human contact, bonding, something he very much lacked in his childhood with others around his age. Sure, there were other activities, but brushing your hair was his favorite. There was something so satisfying about it to him. Was it the brushing out the tangles, playing with something so soft with his fingers as he styles it to his liking, or just having you so close to him that he could straddle you in his grasp and smell you? It was a mix of all of them, he guesses.

And with a silent breath, Jason runs the brush through your hair.

There weren’t many tangles, he finds out. Which, in his book, was good. He didn’t know if you had a sensitive scalp or not, and the last thing he wanted was to see you in tears because he pulled at a tangle too harshly. You always seemed to be fine when he brushed your hair, but he could never be too sure.

Otherwise, he was enjoying himself, especially when he finally brushes out all the little tangles, leaving him to brush your hair mindlessly. You didn’t complain about this, it felt nice to feel the brush move gently around your scalp with no real intention. This was nice.

Jason sets the brush down on his thigh and moves his fingers back through your hair, relishing in how nice it was. He separates it into three parts, trying to make them all equal as best as he could. If he had to be honest with himself, he wasn’t the best at braiding. His hands were awkwardly too large in some instances and the braid itself was always too loose to hold for very long. He liked doing it though, practice makes perfect after all.

He starts the braiding process, feeling a little lost as he did so. It felt a little confusing just because he’d forget which part to move, even if it was making itself clear as day to him.

He leans down to rest his chin on your head once he gets close to finishing the braid. It was a little out of nowhere for you, but it was enjoyable nevertheless. He moves a free hand to run down to your arm from your shoulder, patting at your skin along the way with two fingers. Was he trying to grab your attention?

Just in case, you turn your head to the best of your abilities without disrupting his little resting spot on your scalp. “Hm?”

He tugs at the bottom of your braid with care, inferring something, to which he hopes that you’ll get what he was trying to say.

Oh, oh!

“You need a scrunchie, don’t you?” You ask, and feel Jason tap his fingers again in response.

That was a yes by your standards, so you stretch out your leg to fetch your backpack by the straps with your foot. There was no necessary reason to get up and leave your boyfriend’s gentle grasp when he was getting himself comfortable. You lean forward just a tiny bit to grab the bag once you could reach for it and pull it into your chest. It wasn’t long before you found your tiny bag of scrunchies sitting amongst your clothes, and you take one out for the gentle giant behind you to take.

The object leaves your hand pretty quickly, and you feel Jason sit back up to wrap it at the end of your braid to finish the look. The braid itself feels like it would fall apart at any moment, but gosh, did it feel nice to have such big hands playing around in your hair.

You flip yourself around so you are facing Jason again, placing the bag in your lap as you opened up another zipper. You reveal its contents to him, showing him the makeup supplies that you brought. “You wanted to do my makeup, right?”

He nods, a huff coming out from him as he brings a hand up to fix a few stray hairs near your face. With that, you can’t hide the faint blush on your cheeks. It was so unfair that this monster of a man didn’t even have to try that hard to make you a little flustered, and it was even more unfair that he usually never meant to do so!

“I already cleaned my face before I got here so…you can do whatever with what I have!” You take out a small tube of lipstick. “I don’t have many colors or a lot of anything, is that alright?”

Of course it was! He gives another nod and digs his fingers into the pouch, peering into what items he could see.

“Okay! Just don’t poke my eye out.” You joke, dropping the lipstick back to where you had grabbed it. A smile pulls at your lips as you hear a noise erupt from him while his shoulders give a light shake, a voiceless laugh sounding from him.

It was only really funny to him because he would never hurt you, he knows that he has to be very gentle with humans, or, well, you. Any other human he doesn’t care if he hurts or not as long as their injury or death was justified, but if you got hurt, he doesn’t know what he would do with himself. He nods to what you say anyways, shrugging his shoulders to convey that he won’t, he doesn’t have a reason to.

Jason pulls out a cylinder tube from your backpack, something comically small in his grasp. He uncaps it to better recognize what it was. It produced a wand with some black fuzz at the end. He was familiar with the use of it, but the name was escaping his tongue.

You, on the other hand, knew that what he was holding was a tiny bottle of mascara. If you remember correctly, it was a sample size you had gotten from a store not even a month ago.

He makes a tilting motion of his head and then points to you with his index finger, he wants you to do the same thing. You comprehend this and do so and close. your eyes.

His hands are shaky and unsure, the mascara wand shaking a little bit as he applied it to your eyelashes. He had to be careful! Jason definitely did not want to accidentally rub mascara onto your skin and if he knew any better, makeup was not easy to take off. He made a few strokes before pulling away, the absence of his presence near your face told you he was finished and sitting back.

You flutter your eyes a bit, giving your boyfriend a playful look. “Am I looking good so far?”

Jason nods, his chest a little warmer. You always looked nice in his opinion. Even if you were trying to push against him in the rain for him to get back inside, you still somehow managed to be the most beautiful thing he’s laid his eyes on. It was just very frustrating that he didn’t know how to express that without a voice.

“Why thank you.”

He shrugs and puts the tiny tube of makeup back into the pouch. Amongst his search for something else to use, he found a few lipsticks, all which were varying in color and shades. He could easily name what these were, as it was his favorite thing to play around with when he was younger.

Jason takes his time in putting up each one near your face, testing to see which one best complimented your skin color. After a moment, he seems to be happy with his second option and continues to place the rest of the cosmetics back to where they previously sat. He gestures for you to sit up and he cups your chin with his expected gentleness.

He’s careful and considerably more steady when he applies the lipstick, obviously more confident with this item of makeup. He tries to not put on too much and not smudge any of it, but the key word is tries. His big hands are the cause of his mistake, accidentally smudging some of the color off your lips when he was pulling back and has to fight the urge to try to wipe it away

A giggle escapes you, essentially grabbing his attention away from the accident to you. It was a sign to convey that it was alright, things happen.

The item is put back where it belongs in your bag, packing the hairbrush too, and he was a little unsure of what else to do. He didn’t have much experience in the makeup department, and within the awkwardness of his confusion, you speak up. “Are you done?”

He’s contemplating on how to answer, still unsure himself. Jason takes a quick glance at you, a little flutter in his stomach making itself known, and nods. He almost captured the way you had looked a few days ago and he enjoys that.

“Well, what do you think?” You ask, giving him a smile.

Despite his mistake still prominent, you still look really pretty! He forms a little heart with his hands to tell you his thoughts, his lips forming a smile behind the mask.

You reach up to squeeze his wrist and give a half-suppressed laugh. “Awwe, always the gentleman.” Pride fills his chest and he pats your arm before pushing the backpack back towards you.

You scavenge through the bag’s pouch and pull out a few bottles of nail polish, one that is filled with a clear liquid while the others are of different colors. You present the ones with color to Jason in your palms, offering them to him. “Pick a color!”

Your masked boyfriend hesitates, viewing his options before plucking one of the bottles from your grasp.

“Yellow? Okay.” You nod, putting the rest of the colors back in their little pouch and moving your backpack to the floor. You pause, tapping the yellow nail polish. “Yellow’s your favorite color, huh?”

It was obvious, kind of. He had shown you a lot of attention in thanks when you had given him a yellow turtleneck sweater not too long ago. His bedroom had a lot of yellow knickknacks and his tiny garden he started with you were mostly filled with yellow flowers.

With no surprise, Jason nods. He made it no secret, he very much enjoys the color. If anything, it was a reminder of you to have when you’re gone. Yellow is a very vibrant color that he associates with happiness and he considers you his little patch of sunshine! You definitely made his life way better the moment you walked into it and stood your ground. It only made sense, right?

You give a dip of your head and gesture for him to give you his hands. “Before we can paint your nails, we have to put on this clear coat so it lasts longer. Is that okay?”

He confirms his consent and you hunch over, starting to administer the clear coat onto his nails with the small brush. Nail polish is colder than what the masked killer assumed and shudders out of surprise. You take the yellow nail polish and start applying it to every other fingernail, cleaning up any mistakes you make with your sleeve. Jason was staying very still as you worked, not even flexing his fingers like you would have in an impatient hurry. It’s appreciated that’s for sure.

The varnish is quick to dry just as you finish applying the pink, though still wet enough to be easily ruined. You put the color off to the side and sit up, giving Jason a better view at the nails you had painted so far. “Do you like?”

Yellow looks nice on him, Jason thinks. He likes it and he has to bite back on the desire to hug you to better show you his appreciation, but finds an alternative. Jason leans down and presses his hockey mask against your forehead. This was nice.

You sit up and plant a kiss against his cheek in return, leaving a lipstick kiss mark in the spot. You can’t tell if Jason acknowledges this fact, but it just makes him look so much softer and cuter. Now, if he were wearing his sweater you got him, he’d be the definition of adorable.

You speak up and tug at your backpack, “I, uh, have a book in my backpack if you want me to read it to you…? You told me that your mom used to read stories to you so I thought you’d like me to read to you?”

He was this close to hugging you right now, oh gosh. You were so attentive to what he was always trying to say in actions. He nods his head excitedly, watching you peak through your bag one last time for the evening to pull out a black book.

“Get comfy.” You tease, adjusting your position to turn around and sit in his lap. He follows your instructions, hunching down to rest his head on your shoulders to not only see the cover better, but to nuzzle into your cheek.

You lick your lips and open the book. “The monster showed up just after midnight. As they do…“

96 notes · View notes

endless-whump · 5 years

Note

My little heart’s been yearning for some Irondad recently, lol. Prompt (only if you want to!) so Tony’s been down with a cold, and Peter ends up catching it because he’s been around helping Tony, and he tries to hide it, but his body is too extra so he ends up way worse and he doesn’t understand because it’s supposed to just be a cold. So he’s aware he’s getting worse and he’s frustrated and Tony finally steps in

Thank you for the writing inspiration, Im sorry this took so long to get out! I hope this lives up to what you were looking for!

It started when Tony was acting more tired than usual while he and Peter were working on his suit one Saturday. He kept sneezing every once in a while, resting his forehead against the desk when he thought nobody was looking. Peter noticed, though, and insisted they take a break.

They’d gotten some hot chocolate and settled on the couch for the evening, content to watch some movies and relax at Tony’s cabin. Tony tried to insist Peter stay away in fear he’d catch the cold he had, but Peter simply brushed his concerns off, going on about how he didn’t get sick easily after the spider bite.

Peter left the next day, needing to get home so he could go to school on Monday. He noticed being a little more tired than usual, but didn’t think anything of it.

“Did you stay up late patrolling last night?” Ned whispered during class. Peter shot him a glare, trying to get him to shut up.

“No, I didn’t. Why?”

Ned shrugged. “You look really tired, and a little pale. You feeling ok?”

Peter just waved him off. “Might be getting a cold, Tony had one when I went over there this weekend. I’ll just sleep it off tonight.”

Ned didn’t push it, and they went about their day like normal. Peter did some patrolling that night, exhausted and a little shaky when he got back, which was strange.

May noticed Peter was a little warm the next morning when he was trying to leave for school, frowning at him and brushing his hair out of his face.

“Maybe you should stay home?” She suggested. “I don’t want whatever you might be catching to get worse.”

“I’m fine, May.” Peter insisted, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “You know I don’t really get sick anymore.”

She gave him a hard look but didn’t say anything, letting him walk out the door of the apartment.

It only got worse from there. Peter couldn’t barely conceal the shivers that plagued him throughout the day, feeling lightheaded and shaky even when he made sure to eat, which he soon realized was getting harder as the food became difficult to keep down.

He finally caved in when in class he zoned out so bad, feeling dizzy and far away when he almost broke an empty test tube Ned had playfully tossed towards him, reactions slow and hands unsteady.

He excused himself from the class, locking himself in the bathroom and sitting on the floor. He put his head in his hands, trying to get rid of the pounding headache. Peter dug his nails into his palms, focusing on his breathing as he shivered.

He wasn’t supposed to be able to get sick. He was supposed to be Spiderman, to be able to help people. He wasn’t supposed to need help or to have to stay home when there were things he needed to do and people he needed to help.

Peter shakily stood up, going over to the sinks and splashing water in his face. He just needed to pull himself together, this wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.

He went back to class, ignoring the concerned looks he got and the continued nagging from Ned. When school was finally over Peter felt like he was ready to collapse, relieved to be free from all the haggling about his health. They acted like he was on deaths door, but this was just a cold, right?

Peter had just made up his mind to go home and sleep before he got a text, opening his phone.

Out front waiting-Happy

Peter groaned in frustration. He’d completely forgotten he was supposed to go to the tower after school to work on some stuff with Tony. He considered bailing, but he knew Tony would just come poking in his business to see what was up.

He trudged to the sidewalk, spotting the familiar car that usually picked him up. He tossed his backpack in before climbing in the back seat, shutting the door and resting his head against the back of the seat.

“Your less chattery than usual.” Happy pointed out, putting the car in drive and pulling into the road.

“Just tired.” Peter mumbled, looking out the window. Happy didn’t push it, driving smoothly through the traffic until they reached the tower. Peter mumbled his thanks as he got out, pain shooting through his head as he stood up and slung his backpack over his shoulder.

He managed to get in the building without an issue, punching the elevator button to take him to the lab and leaning against the wall. The soft whirring of machinery was enough to have him relax in the dim, warm elevator until he was startled by the ding, indicating he was at his floor. He hefted his backpack tiredly as he walked into the lab, head down.

He really didn’t want to face Mr Stark right now, intending to quietly bypass where his mentor was huddled over a project, and slip to his own desk, but Tony had other plans.

“Hey Underoos, how come your la-” He stopped, looking at Peter intently. He groaned inside, wanting to escape the unwanted attention.

“Peter, are you ok?” Came the question he was expecting, yet didn’t quite know how to answer.

“I’m fine, Mr Stark, it was just cold, and it was a long day at school.” he set his bag on the floor as he sat down, grateful he didn’t have to worry about how badly his legs were shaking now.

“Uh huh, I don’t buy it for a second.” Came the retort from his mentor. “You look like death washed over, you’re clearly sick.”

Peter was looking down at his workbench trying to ignore him when his spider senses went off quietly, and he looked up to see Tony tossing him a tool. He barely caught it, now frustrated. He wasn’t sure if it was Tony he was mad at or himself, but he didn’t care.

The stool rolled out from underneath him as he stood up, close to tears.

“Knock it off, Tony! Your always-”

He swayed, his head pounding. A wave of dizziness swept over him, and he could hear his mentors concerned, muffled voice as he fell, expecting to met the floor but instead being caught in Tony’s arms.

“Peter?!,” He asked, panicked, lowering Peter to the ground as his eyes fluttered shut. He sighed, cursing his bad back as he picked up the teen, carrying him to a nearby couch in the lab.

“FRIDAY, check his vitals, please.” He called out, biting back a mutter of frustration when the AI reported Peter’s rising fever. He left briefly, running as fast as he could to collect what he needed and returning to a waking up, disoriented Peter.

“Hey, Pete, I need you to stay still for me, bud.” Tony soothed as Peter tried to sit up, groaning in pain. “You passed out on me, I don’t think you get to claim everything’s ok anymore.”

He pushed Peter back until he was laying down without much resistance, which almost concerned Tony above all else. He quickly layered the shivering teen with blankets, holding a water bottle up to him as he tried to get him to drink.

“Your looking super dehydrated, Peter. Jesus, I didn’t need you inheriting my awful self preservation skills, kid.”

Once he got some water and medicine in him, Tony sat next to him, laying Peters head in his lap as he ran his fingers through the teens soft hair. He was surprised when Peter moved closer to him, mumbling something as he relaxed, drifting in and out of sleep as he fought the fever.

Guilt gnawed at Tony, and he felt like he was partially responsible for giving the kid the awful sickness going around. He pulled the blankets tighter around them, picking up his phone and texting May that Peter had shown up sick, but that he was fine and getting taken care of.

He made a note to himself to get the kid something to eat when he woke up, and if it got any worse he’d contact Dr Cho.

“I’m sorry, Underoos,” He muttered, hugging Peter close to him. He knew he couldn’t hear him, but he didn’t quite care. “I shouldn’t have messed around with you,,I know you think you hide it, but I can see you trying to hide things from me because you want to be strong. I know you don’t want to show any signs of weakness, but you need to learn at some point, and so do I, that we’re allowed to be weak sometimes. We’re allowed to be vulnerable and taken care of when we need it.” He sighed.

“Jesus, you’re a teenager, you don’t need this hero complex on you so early.”

He continued running his hands through his hair, brushing a curl from his face. Peter, who was still awake, kept his eyes closed, holding back tears at Tony’s words as he let himself relax, falling asleep with the gentle touch

#Peter Parker whump #sickfic #Peter Parker sick #irondad #whump #I'm sorry this took me so long #ironed whump #sick peter #miserable peter

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haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles · 6 years

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anonymous asked: Could I request a scenario with Kuroo and his s/o being really domestic and doing chores and things, and he realizes how much he loves his s/o? Thanks!

well. here’s proof that im not dead. writing Kuroo is such my guilty pleasure and this is tooth-rottingly fluffy. I also?? realized that I might have strayed from the request a bit?? hope you still enjoy my lovely anon 💕 - J

Weekends were a blessing in this household. Not that Kuroo took advantage of them most of the time anyways. Last night he complained about his new project at work long enough that you were suspicious he was going to waste his weekend working on it like he was known to do. So, this morning, when he started shifting in bed next to you; making the usual motions to get out up, you wrapped your arms around his middle and nuzzled against his neck.

“Kitten…” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I need to be productive today.”

“It’s Saturday,” you said, your voice muffled against his skin; willing him to burrow back into the blankets with you for even a few more minutes. He sighed, glancing at the sun already shining through the bedroom window, his mind racing through the to-do list he created last night while he couldn’t fall asleep. You groaned, realizing your efforts were turning out to be futile. Blinking blearily up at him to meet his already clear and alert gaze, you conceded. “You’re allowed to be a hermit for the day if you at least spend the morning with me.”

He grinned lazily at you. “Spend the morning with you? Too high a price. How could you subject me to such torture?” You laughed, cupping his face in your hands and pulling him down to kiss you. Tangling your fingers lightly in his mussed-up hair in hopes of convincing him to give up on his ‘productive’ day. “That won’t work.” He smirked. “Good try though.”

You pouted. “Worth a shot. I guess you’ll just have to grin and bear one cup of tea with me then.”

“The horror.”

You stuck your tongue out but untangled yourself from his long limbs and threw the covers off you. Standing and stretching, you shamelessly showed off the fact you weren’t wearing anything but an old t-shirt of his and underwear. Raising an eyebrow at him enjoying the view, you prompted, “You sure about your choice?”

He swallowed thickly, yet somehow managed to betray the way his heart was thumping against his chest. “Absolutely.” Even after a few years together, the last couple sharing an apartment, he still woke up every morning feeling so utterly complete he thought his heart would burst.

You made an annoyed sound sauntering over to the doorway. “I’ll go start the hot water, Mr. Iron Will.”

A chuckle escaped him, and he watched you until you disappeared from sight; slightly regretting his stubbornness until he remembered all the things he wanted to get done today. He knows you don’t really mind him working on the weekend, though sometimes you forced him to take much needed breaks; and if he did it too many weekends in a row—which was rare—you wouldn’t allow him to even think about work. You understand and support his desire to succeed and reach his goals, as he did for you; maybe he would make it up to you tonight.

After rousing himself and throwing on a hoodie, he padded into the kitchen a few minutes later. Somedays, he was blatantly slapped in the face by how content he was with you—today seeming to be one of them. Watching you pour steaming water into two cups, gingerly placing teabags into each, a smile spreading across your lips when you turn around to find him standing there; he briefly thought to himself: This is it. All I’ll ever need.

You hand his cup over, he notes that you’ve chosen his favorite tea this morning, then sit at the counter patting the seat next to you. You also opened some windows, allowing a brisk spring breeze to blow lightly through the apartment and you look like you’re enjoying the fresh air. He’s a bit at a loss for words, feeling choked by the onslaught emotions flooding him; and he’s glad for you starting the conversation asking about the project he insists on working on over the weekend.

He easily slips into raving about the new work he’s been given, he’s actually in charge of the team this time; so, he’s feeling a lot more pressure and responsibility than usual. You can’t help but smile into your mug, watching him talk excitedly about his job; his own mug momentarily forgotten on the counter. While he sometimes gets more technical than you can understand, you could listen to him talk about it for hours because he loved it and you loved him.

“You’re getting that look on your face.”

You blinked. “What look?”

“That look when I’ve been talking about DNA for too long.”

He couldn’t be farther from the truth, so you waved your hand in dismissal at him. “I was just thinking if you’re going to be productive today, so should I.” You glanced at the cup in his hands. “Finished?” He placed it in your outstretched hand with a grateful smile. Standing, you gave him a knowing look. “You’re free now.”

Before you could get too far, he snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you flush against him into an embrace. “I love you. You know that?” He sighed against your hair.

“You’re going to make me drop these mugs,” you huffed. He released you, watching you make your way to the sink and place the cups next to some dishes from last night. With your back to him, you said, “And I love you too—now get out of here before I lose any and all motivation to do anything today and drag you back into that bedroom.”

He grinned and headed to the room designated the shared ‘office’, his smile widening when he heard you shout down the hallway, “At least open the window! It’s beautiful out!”

Once he gets himself situated at the desk, pulling out pen and paper to write his mental to-do list down, he hears you pass by into the bedroom and he wonders if you ended up losing motivation after all. Moments later, he hears you again and then telltale sound of the washing machine starting. After that, he doesn’t notice much except for the array of papers in front of him and the whiteboard he insisted on adding to the room when the two of you moved in. It was already littered with scribblings of his jumbled thoughts from the week; a tiny pang hitting his heart upon noticing a small note of ‘I love you’ written in the corner in your handwriting.

The two of you hadn’t woken up too late, so you’re able to get several loads of laundry done; in the meantime, vacuuming the living room, hallway, and bedroom. You avoid the office to not distract Kuroo, knowing the action of you constantly rocking back and forth with the vacuum might get him to ignore work for a while. He had this weird tendency to get all mushy whenever you started doing mundane tasks like chores around the house.

You have enough time before taking a lunch break to start folding the laundry; pressing play on a playlist you let your mind wander to blissful nothingness. That was the state Kuroo found you in when he finally emerged from the office when his stomach had started rumbling. He just stood in the doorway, arms crossed across his chest, trying not to startle you out of this picturesque view. He could have stood there watching you humming softly to the music playing from your phone, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips for hours—you looked perfectly content.

He wanted to rush over to you, gather you up in his arms and kiss every inch of skin he could; express to you without words that he felt the same way. That he could spend a hundred years in perfect bliss with you, even just doing household chores would be enough for him.

Eventually, you noticed him, jerking a bit in surprise at him just standing there watching you for who knows how long. “As great as the view of me folding laundry must be—stop staring you creeper,” you teased, returning back to the shirt you had dropped in surprise at seeing him.

Taking you fully by surprise, he strides into the room and smothers you in an embrace; practically tackling you on the couch. “Kuro—oh!” He cut you off with his lips pressing against yours, a little needy; and you concluded your prior thought that he was going to get all sappy in response to this day of chores as correct. It was hard not to laugh at him because admittedly—it was adorable, and you didn’t mind the affection.

“Let’s go to the café for lunch today. It’s so nice out, we can walk, stretch our legs a bit; yeah? I don’t think I can look at another molecule for at least an hour.”

His heart swelled at the grin that spread across your face at his suggestion.

The walk was everything he needed—fresh air and talking with you. You asked him how his progress was going today, slyly asking if it was going to bleed into tomorrow. He caught the glimmer of happiness that flitted across your face when he answered ‘no’. Even if he did have more to do, how could be possibly resist you after today? He prided himself on the face he had some sense of willpower, but when it came to you, he was far easier to crack.

He realized he would give anything—anything, to continue making you smile and laugh for as long as he lived. Nothing made him happier than spending time with you; even after all this time, he’d never grown tired of it and didn’t think he ever would.

Your lunch together ends far too soon and he finds himself reluctantly heading back to the office. Just thinking about the mess he left in there an hour or two ago was enough to make his head start to hurt. While he tried to focus and get back into the zone again, he simply couldn’t. You were too far at the forefront of his mind and it became quite clear to him that he would much rather be spending time with you right now than these pieces of paper and his own thoughts.

Gathering up his things, he placed them neatly into a drawer; out of sight and out of mind. He erased what he had on the whiteboard, leaving your small note; and left, shutting the door behind him. There was no reason for him to enter that room until the weekend was over.

You were no longer in the living room, the folded laundry placed at the end at the hallway for you to bring back to the bedroom at some point. Before entering the kitchen where the sound of running water and music intermixed was drifting from, he took the liberty of taking the laundry and putting it away for you.

Upon seeing you though, he stopped in his tracks. Overcome by the thought of: Holy fuck. I am the luckiest man in the world. All you’re doing is swaying gently to the music, elbow deep in dishwater; and he doesn’t know what to do with himself—smitten at the sight.

You practically throw a plate into the air when you feel hands rest on your hips followed by lips pressing to the nape of your neck. “Jesus—Kuroo! I almost smacked you with this plate.”

“I finished,” he said, hands drifting just underneath your shirt to rub small circles on your skin.

Your face lit up. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Can I help?”

You eyed him suspiciously. “Are you going to be all weird and stare at me the entire time?” He blinked in shock while a light blush crept onto his cheeks—you fought the urge to smirk, it was a rare treat to see Kuroo blush. You’d gotten significantly better at eliciting that response from him in the years you’d been together. “All I’m doing is washing dishes.”

“Liar, you’ve been trying to seduce me all day,” he quipped, despite having been caught red-handed in this sentimental mindset he tended to slip into on glaringly ordinary days like today.

A smirk graced your lips seeing straight through him. “Oh, if that had been my goal, we wouldn’t be standing here right now Tetsurou.”

“Now you’re playing with me.”

You shrugged, laughing, “Maybe so.” Then handed him the plate you were holding. “You can help by drying the dishes. Can you handle that without getting distracted by all this?” You motioned jokingly to yourself, hair tied up messily and wearing an old apron to keep dirty dishwater from getting on your clothes. Clearly, you didn’t look your best today.

He drops the plate back into the sink, ignoring your cry of protest that you’d have to rewash it. “No sh,” he says cupping your cheeks with his hands. “I love you.”

“Sap.”

He leans down to press a kiss to your lips, afterwards murmuring, “Come on—say it back to me, love.”

You can’t help but grin and repeat the words to him, earning yourself another kiss.

#Kuroo Tetsurou #Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenario #Kuroo Tetsurō #kuroo tetsurou senario

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notsoguiltykpop · 7 years

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The Tenth Floor pt19

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader & Taehyung x Reader

Min Yoongi had gone through 34 secretaries in the past 24 months, and each one of them left in tears. This fact alone should have warned you against taking the job, but the pay was too good to pass up. Surely you could put up with a billionaires temper-tantrums, right?

Genre: Fluff, humor, probably some angst. Borderline crack at times

Warnings: Strong language, smut talked about/implied, some dark themes

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18

Jungkook looked slightly ill when he left Yoongi’s office. When you raised an eyebrow in question, he shook his head and closed his eyes.

“How do you do it?” He asked, walking around to sit on your desk, crumpling the papers that you’d only just finished sorting.

“Do what?” You asked, swatting at him to get up. He moved with an apologetic glance, instead standing somewhat awkwardly beside you with his arms crossed.

“Yell at him. The guy’s crazy, you know that right? But that never stops you from telling him off,” Jungkook explained, eyeing Yoongi’s door. “Don’t tell him I said this, but he kind of scares me.”

You couldn’t help a slight laugh, despite your dismal mood. “Yoongi’s all talk, Jungkook,” You tried to smooth out the papers Jungkook crushed, and finally decided you’d just have to print out new ones. “He isn’t all that different from you, really. You both put up fronts to protect yourselves, neither of you are particularly organized, and you’re both a bit strange.”

“I don’t know whether or not to be offended by that,” Jungkook sighed, beginning to walk away from your desk backwards.

You rolled your eyes, ready to get back to work in the hopes of keeping your mind off the fact that you didn’t have the money to pay off your car.

Your phone buzzed with a text the moment you were alone, and you grabbed it faster than you usually would have. You still hadn’t heard from Jessica since the previous night, and you were worried that whatever progress the two of you might have made was lost. When you saw her name at the top of your phone, you didn’t even bother to read the preview, just tapped on it.

“You still have my dress.” Was the five word text you received.

Biting back disappointment, you told yourself that this was still a good sign. Jessica had finally texted you something, and that had to count.

“Hard at work, I see,” A teasing voice interrupted your thoughts, and you looked up to see Changkyun standing in front of your desk with his hands in his pockets and a smirk on his lips.

You blinked at him, trying to remember what he was doing there. How you’d forgotten about the previous nights conversation was a mystery even to yourself, but it came back to you as you shoved your phone out of sight.

“Changkyun, how are you this morning?” You asked, forcing a smile. It wasn’t that you minded seeing him so much as were trying to think of a way to tell Yoongi that you’d completely forgotten to mention that you set up an appointment for him with the shareholder he was doing his best to avoid.

“Decent,” He shrugged. “Is Yoongi in his office?”

You hesitated for a moment. “He is, but he was in the middle of something important. Let me go tell him you’re here.”

You didn’t wait for a response, hopping up and hurrying into his office. Yoongi was not doing anything that looked important at all--in fact, he appeared to be sleeping. He was leaned back in his chair, feet propped up on his desk and one arm flung over his eyes.

“Yoongi?” You tried.

“Normal secretaries use the intercom system,” He sighed. “I’m really starting to hate how you just barge in here whenever you feel like it.”

“Then I guess normal secretaries,” You said, folding your arms. “Don’t need to talk to you in private before sending people in.”

Yoongi groaned, sitting up and blinking blearily at you. “Who is it this time?”

“Im Changkyun,” You figured there was no use beating around the bush, he’d find out sooner or later, and it would be better for him to get mad at you instead of the shareholder.

“Tell him to go away.” Yoongi glared at you. “I’m not in the mood to deal with that lunatic.”

“I’ll tell him to come in,” You said anyway, and were about to step out when Yoongi stood up and walked over to face you.

“You’re really starting to get on my nerves,” He said.

“So fire me,” You shrugged. At this point, you didn’t feel like you had anything to lose.

Yoongi said nothing to that, instead pretending you hadn’t said anything and making his way over to the window. You made a face at his turned back; he was so over-dramatic.

“Send him in,” Yoongi muttered reluctantly. “But if he stays for more than an hour, make up some excuse to get me out of here.”

After Changkyun left, Yoongi thought he would finally get some peace and quiet. The hope was dashed as the door was thrown open again, and Yoongi was about to finally lose his temper and tell you to stop fucking doing that, but when he looked up it wasn’t your pretty eyes he was met with.

“How’s it going between the two of you?” Taehyung asked, scrolling through his phone rather than look at Yoongi as he took a seat.

“Who?” Yoongi sighed, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes. He’d had a headache all day and seeing Taehyung was only making it worse.

“You and Y/n, duh.” Taehyung snorted.

“Terrible.” Yoongi deadpanned. “In fact, if you want to get more specific than that, it isn’t “going” at all. She made it very clear she wants nothing to do with me, and I think it’s time I respected that.” Jungkook’s words, while unwanted, stuck with Yoongi more than he cared to admit. He had a point, whether Yoongi liked it or not.

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, putting his phone away. “So even after all I did, you still managed to screw things up?”

Yoongi let out a bark of a laugh. “You say that like you tried to help me.”

“I did,” Taehyung made a face. When Yoongi didn’t look convinced, he sighed dramatically. “Oh, come on. Are you really that dumb? I painted myself as the bad-guy to make you look better, and even made up that stupid lie about my house getting robbed so you’d have to drive her home--you do know I don’t own a house anymore, right?”

Yoongi stared at Taehyung as his words sunk in. “You what?”

“Seriously, your neighbor said you spent an entire weekend away from home, you were at her house, weren’t you?”

Yoongi blinked slowly. “Why were you talking to my neighbor?”

Taehyung dismissed Yoongi’s question entirely, waving a hand. “Unimportant. What is important is how you possibly managed to go from spending a weekend together to...whatever it is happening now.”

“Quit acting like you’re on my side, it’s weird,” Yoongi grumbled, looking back at the spreadsheet he was supposed to be reviewing.

“I’m not acting,” Taehyung said, pulling the paper off of Yoongi’s desk so he could look at it himself. “I think it’s time we put our differences aside and attempted to get along, don’t you?”

Yoongi scoffed, snatching the spreadsheet back. “Why?”

“We’re nearly thirty, for one thing. It was one thing when we were in our teens, but now it’s a little embarrassing, right?” Yoongi didn’t have anything to say to that. “Do you really want to still be fighting when we’re in our sixties--or older? Aren’t we better people than that, Yoongi?”

It was convincing, Yoongi gave him that. Taehyung met his eyes evenly and even pouted a little. “What do you want, Taehyung?”

Taehyung switched back to his usual demeanor in an instant when Yoongi didn’t take the bait, grinning widely as he sat back in his chair.

“It was worth a try,” He chuckled, twirling a pencil idly. Yoongi nodded and waived a hand for him to continue. “I want a job here. A real one.”

Yoongi laughed. “No, seriously. What do you want?”

“I just told you,” Taehyung’s smile faded. “Give me a job working for you, preferably one that pays well.”

“And I would do that because...?” Yoongi prompted.

“It would make both of your parents happy to see us working together and getting along,” Taehyung said simply. When Yoongi gave him an “are you kidding me” look, he sighed. “Look, I need a regular job to get custody. The courts don’t care how much is in my bank account, only that I’m a stable parent. Don’t do it for me, do it for Zoe. Do it for your niece, Yoongi.”

“That’s low, Taehyung,” Yoongi narrowed his eyes. “Even for you.”

“I know you and I have our issues, but do you really think Mia is a fit parent?” Taehyung continued, completely unphased. “I’m not asking for the company, Yoongi. I’m asking you to give me some desk job until I’ve secured custody.”

Yoongi grimaced. He was just starting to think that Taehyung would leave soon. “I can’t just give you a job because we’re... family,” The word still felt strange to say even after so long. “But you can apply, just like everyone else. Give Namjoon your resume, and I’ll put in a good word for you.”

“Wouldn’t that just mean talking to yourself?” Taehyung snorted, and Yoongi couldn’t help but halfheartedly throw a crumpled piece of paper at him.

“Get out of my office before I change my mind.”

The more you thought about it, the less you thought Jimin was actually at fault, and it was starting to bother you. It seemed pretty clear that Jimin wasn’t informed that you were getting any of the money, in which case Seokjin should’ve been the one to suffer. But when you asked around during lunch, everyone said that Jimin was always good for his money--apparently he’d lost a lot of bets, some of which for quite a bit more than what he bet against you.

That left Seokjin, but he didn’t quite make sense either. He’d always treated you decently, even if he was a little annoying. He was the one who offered you the money, so why would he give you counterfeit?

You went over the day several times in your mind while you ate, and every time it lead you back to the same unpleasant train of thought; Jungkook could, potentially, be behind it. He was the one who said Seokjin should give you the money, and you left him alone with it to tell Yoongi that Vanessa was there.

You hated to think that he could have planned it all along, and that he might have been internally laughing at you the whole day, knowing that you bought a car with counterfeit.

Jungkook wasn’t that kind of person. He was the only half-way decent coworker you had, and he had gone out of his way to help you numerous times. He didn’t have any logical motive, anyway.

Then again, Jessica’s impression of him wasn’t good, and he had more enemies on the tenth floor than he had friends. There had to be a reason for that. He didn’t seem anything like what others thought of him, but you’d only known him for a month. And was is even possible for him to change this drastically in such a short amount of time?

You muttered a curse under your breath as you ran a hand down your face. Jungkook was your friend, wasn’t he? So why were you even entertaining the thought that he could do this to you?

Distracted, you ran headfirst into Jimin in the hall on your way back from lunch.

“Sorry, Jimin,” You mumbled, and he gave you an exasperated look.

“Whatever,” He said, and was about to continue away from you when you caught his arm.

“No, wait. Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Why? So you can accuse me of something else?” Jimin asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No--I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions,” You said, feeling your cheeks heat up slightly. You’d made quite a scene earlier without any proof, and no matter what Jimin had said to you in the past, he deserved the benefit of a doubt. “And I’m sorry.”

Jimin looked slightly amused at this. “Yeah, well. As long as you know you were wrong.”

The irritation at him you thought you’d put on hold rose up faster than you thought possible. “And what about you? You think all the horrible, unwarranted things you’ve said to me over the last month were right?”

The smirk dropped from his face. “Whatever. Let’s call it even.” He muttered, shoving past you. It wasn’t an apology, but was better than nothing.

A/N It’s a short chapter, but I hope you enjoyed! I finally just decided to scrap what I wrote before and start over. To everyone who has sent me messages/chats, I’m really sorry I haven’t been keeping up with them. I haven’t had wifi for over a week now, so while I can write, it’s hard to reply. I promise I’ll try to get better about it next week, I should have more time then <3 <3 <3

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m-yien · 7 years

Text

IT’S US, WE, AND OURSELVES // IM JAEBUM

10. things you said that made me feel like shit

Pairing: jaebum x female character Genre: romance, angst Rating: none Word Count: 1512 Author’s note: this was requested by the lovely @jingogi, thank you once again! 💕💕💕

Things you said prompts+ feel free to send me a request if you want one from the list (got7 and bts only)

You’re not sure why, but it seems like December is the month of the year where every workplace has loads and loads of deadlines. Perhaps, it’s because of the holidays or the nearing end of the year and all must be finished and completed before the new one comes. It’s hectic and challenging but, it’s not causing you any problems though. After all, if you’re not going to do and accomplish it by now, then when? Once this is done, you’re mindset will be somewhere else. Holiday break is nearing and you’re more than determined you’re going to spend it without any complications.

Especially, if it’s going to be with the people that you love and cherish the most.

“Do you think we should visit your parents first before we go on with our plans?” You ask the preoccupied man in front of his computer, definitely working on something.

The two of you just had dinner and he’s already busy. It’s nothing new. From time to time, you ask him questions softly so that he wouldn’t be distracted. He’s a hardworking man and he doesn’t allow anything to come his way and disrupt his focus.

“I’m fine with anything,” he finally replies after a minute or two of silence. He doesn’t even move his eyes from the screen.

“Alright, let’s go on this weekend then,” you finalized, not having any second thoughts. “We can shop tomorrow, right?”

“Oh babe, we can’t go this weekend. I still need to work.”

“Jaebum. Are you serious right now? You just told me last night, only last night, before we went to bed that today is your last day,” you remind him, voice beginning to grow angry. “And now you suddenly can’t go and visit your parents this weekend? One moment, you’re fine with anything and the next it’s the opposite.”

Jaebum’s jaw clenches, a sign that he’s getting upset. But, do you care? Of course not. If anyone should be upset, it should be you. You two have already moved discussing your holiday plans countless of times already. And now that you two have some actual free time, he’s the one who’s purposely making more time for something else.

“I know and I remember what I said last night. But, something important came up and it’s badly needed to be finished this week,” he explains, trying to keep the situation calm despite his stern tone.

You roll your eyes, standing up from your chair. “Do whatever you want.”

Jaebum also stands up and grabs your arm. “Are we really going to fight about this right now?”

You pull away from his hold and cross your arms together, giving him a glare. “I don’t know, Jaebum. Do we even have the time to fight about anything at all?”

He brought his hand up to his face, rubbing it in frustration. You know that he’s angry by now. You’re not arguing with him to rile him up. It’s absolutely nothing like that. You’re just standing your ground for him to see your point. It’s better than just letting him have his way all the time. With the three years that you have been with him, you’re more than aware of his stubbornness. And, with those three years, you have managed to be stubborn as well.

“Y/N,” he begs, taking hold of your hands. “This is important to me. If I ace this, the pay would be enough for the both of us. You won’t need to work anymore.”

“What?” You hiss, tearing yourself away from him. “You have got to be kidding me. Jaebum, this is not about the income. This is about spending time with me, your friends, and your family. And now, you’re telling me that I won’t need to work anymore? Because of the pay off that this project will give which is actually causing us to fight?”

“Stop, taking this the wrong way. Just stop. What I’m trying to say is that we can spend more time together if I’m the only one to work instead,” he asserts, but it’s not convincing you. “Babe, your job is not as fulfilling as you thought it was, right? So come on, let’s just not fight about this.”

Not as fulfilling as you thought it was? His words echoes inside your head and you feel like nothing but shit. Your brows twitch, anger clouding your vision.

“You know what, Jaebum? I love my job be it fulfilling or not. But, you don’t seem to know that since you just said it’s not. So, if you’re going to act all mighty to me, enjoy spending the holidays at your workplace.”

Jaebum has always been an inspiration. You always seek him for strength whenever things get tough because it’s nature for him to be strong and determined with almost everything. You admire him because he’s disciplined and responsible. Somehow, Jaebum doesn’t allow himself to have flaws. And honestly, that is his flaw; he doesn’t allow himself to fail.

You’re hurt by his words and it’s difficult to just let it go. Maybe he didn’t mean to say those or maybe he did. This could be stress coming from work or whatever and you completely understand. You just wish that Jaebum could set those aside for a little while and let himself lose. You wish he could see that there’s more to having a huge amount of paycheck and that is being present in the moment where he needs to be.

Tonight, you sleep alone.

Morning arrived and your first instinct was to snake your arm around someone’s body when you remember that no one was beside you for the night that passed. You take in a deep breath before opening your eyes. Even though you slept for a total of eight hours, you still feel empty and tired. It’s going to be a long day and a mug of coffee is your only aid.

The apartment is quiet as you step out of the bedroom. Jaebum must have left already. You’re disappointed, but not surprised. You ignore your dismay and stride towards the kitchen and do what you initially intended to do.

You grab the kettle near the kitchen sink, filled it with some water, and positioned it on the stove. You have a coffee-maker machine, but you prefer making your coffee from scratch. Proceeding to grab your mug next, you were suddenly greeted by an already steaming warm coffee on the table that you weren’t able to take notice when you entered the kitchen.

You turned off the stove and walked to the table. There’s a note beside the mug:

“Hey. I made you coffee, but we ran out of bread. I’ll just buy some and I’ll be back soon. x Jaebum”

“So, now he prepares me coffee?” You scoff, but smile at the same time. Jaebum never fails to make your heart flutter and you don’t know if you should hate him because of it. One sip from the mug and you almost forget that you’re mad at him. He always knew how to make your coffee.

Halfway through your mug, you hear the front door open. You lean your back on the chair while crossing your arms as you wait for his appearance. When he does show up, he gives you his dinosaur grin, holding a bag of freshly baked bread.

You narrow your eyes at him. “What? You thought bread and coffee would suffice enough for me to forgive you?”

Jaebum shoulders slumps. “Babe,” he whines and moves closer to you. “I’m sorry.”

He can be a marshmallow sometimes. But, nope. You’re going to make him suffer. “Anyway, thanks for the effort,” you say, voice cold. You take your stand from the chair and walk to the sink.

You hear the soft tud of the bag on the table, making you smirk. Maybe, he has given up. Or maybe not, because a pair of strong arms suddenly encircled your waist from behind, startling you.

“I’m sorry I disrespected you,” he whispers against your neck. “I’m sorry I forgot to let you be your own person when all this time you’ve been allowing me to be my true self.”

You love Jaebum and for three years, he has been nothing but a vital part of your life. You know him just like knowing the back of your hand. You exhale and turn yourself around to face him. His head was hanging down low, showing his humility.

“I love you Jaebum.” Your arms find their way to his neck, forehead leaning close to his. “I’m sorry you have to work twice as hard than you used to because you felt like you needed to support me. But, hey, here’s the thing. We can support each other. We can compromise. We’re pretty much experts on doing that despite our stubbornness, don’t you think?”

Jaebum chuckles and keeps his hold onto you tight. “I agree and yes, I love you too.”

“Good,” you affirm, giving him a kiss. “Now come on, those breads aren’t going eat themselves.”

#kkreationsnet #got7 #im jaebum #got7 scenarios #got7 scenario #im jaebum scenarios #im jaebum scenario #jaebum scenarios #jaebum scenario #jb scenarios #jb scenario #things you said #m-yien

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sadrien · 7 years

Text

goodbyes & hellos

on ao3

im so so so late but hey this is for first day of prompt week for @thinkoutsidethelovesquare!!!! day one: wrong number

this was a lot of fun tbh and ive been dying to write this ship. alyas texts are italicized, adriens are underlined on ao3, just bold here bc tumblrs a butt. shoutout to @reyxa for the title <3

enjoy!

Alya narrows her eyes at the new message that lights up her phone. It’s an unknown number that she doesn’t recognize — not that she’s given her number to anyone recently — and it’s also seven in the morning . Anyone how knows her at all should know that she doesn’t wake up before at least nine on the weekends. (And that has nothing to do with the fact that she doesn’t sleep during the week and tends to go to bed after two in the morning.)

She groans as another message shows up on the screen. She squints and lets the messages flow in, figuring she can tell the person they’ve got the wrong number after they’ve finished whatever they have to say. Or she can decide that it’s unimportant and ignore it and go back to sleep.

She likes her second plan the best.

unknown number: Hi!

unknown number: Just wanted to let you know the start time for today has been moved from 10 to 9:15

unknown number: My father has a meeting at 1300 so he wants to get it all done as soon as possible

unknown number: And I know you mentioned wanting to have him on set yesterday

unknown number: I hope it’s not too much of an inconvenience! Your agent should be calling you soon, but I thought I’d give you a heads up

Alya squints at the screen. She doesn’t want to care but she’s curious. And curiousity killed the cat and all that but she’s used to letting her nosiness get the best of her.

unknown number: agents???

unknown number: 1st of all srry u have the wrong number

unknown number: 2nd of all were u talking to a movie star or smth???????

unknown number: book writer??

unknown number: what kinda person needs an agent

unknown number: Oh I’m sorry! I must’ve gotten the wrong number from someone

unknown number: I’m really sorry if I was bothering you

Alya rolls her eyes.

unknown number: u woke me up but its chill cause now im curious

unknown number: Curious? About what?

unknown number: way 2 keep avoiding the question

unknown number: ???

unknown number: u said the person u meant to text has an agent

unknown number: how fancy r they

unknown number: Oh! She’s a model!

Alya’s eyes widen. The most famous person she knows is that thirteen year old that was in her school who has ten thousand subscribers on YouTube because she makes lyric videos. The second is a boy who has a few thousand instagram followers because he has nice abs and lots of white boy clothing and muscle shirts.

unknown number: u kno a model????????

unknown number: Uhh

unknown number: I’m not sure how much personal information I should be giving to a stranger

Alya sighs. So close.

unknown number: its fine dude (dude? u good w that? lmk if u arent) i getchu

unknown number: u can just stop responding if u dont wanna talk

She locks her phone and slides it back under her pillow. She stares at the ceiling for a few more minutes, wondering if she’ll be able to fall back asleep. As much as she’d like to take the train back to dreamville, she can’t. Because now she’s awake and now she’s wondering. And once she stops wondering, she doesn’t stop.

She’ll probably stop thinking about this random wrong number in a few days and in a few months, she’ll forget about them entirely but…

Ugh.

Sleep definitely isn’t an option anymore.

Leaving her phone in her bed, she pads to the kitchen, twisting her hair up into a messy bun as she does so. No one is up yet — of course they aren’t, it’s seven on a Saturday and everyone is taking advantage of every precious minute of sleep they can get — so she has the run of the house to herself.

So she makes herself some coffee and a bowl of cereal and turns to television on. Her initial plan is to just leave it on whatever channel that’s playing when she first turns it on, and luckily the twins were the last ones to use it. Saturday morning cartoons. Score.

Alya stirs sugar in her coffee as Cyber Chase plays in the background. It’s not much more than background noise, it’s the middle of an episode and she doesn’t really know what’s happening, but she does snort at a few of the bad jokes.

“You’re up early,” her mom says before dropping a kiss on the top of Alya’s head.

Alya hums. “Got a few text messages and they woke me up.” She notes how her mom purposefully avoids eye contact as she opens a cabinet. Alya rolls her eyes and eats a spoonful of cereal.

“School friends?” her mom asks carefully.

“Yes,” Alya lies. Better than her mom asking more questions. The biggest one being why were you talking to a complete stranger?

“Are you going to see them before we leave?”

Alya glues her eyes to the TV. “If they’re around.”

Her mom makes an unimpressed sound and Alya resists the urge to roll her eyes. She texted a few of her friends the other week, but the conversation was awkward and stilted. They all had the same sort of idea about cutting ties.

Alya sighs and puts down her spoon, twisting around in her seat to face her mom. “I promise I’m talking to them.”

Her mom gives her that look— the one where her lips purse and a crease between her eyebrows that’s becoming more and more permanent; the one that says she wants to push for more details, but won’t unless they’re volunteered first. Which Alya is not doing, thank you very much. “If you say so, honey,” her mom says, turning her attention to the breakfast she’s making.

Alya stares down into her cereal bowl.

Time to evacuate to her bedroom.

She finishes her cereal as quickly as she can without choking and dumps her bowl and spoon in the sink as she passes it, taking her coffee with her to her room. New plan: curl up in bed with her laptop and hope her mom just leaves her alone until they move.

Alya’s almost forgotten about her phone by the time she flops onto her bed. It vibrates almost as soon as she opens her laptop. She frowns as she pulls it out from under her pillow.

unknown number: Dude is fine for me

unknown number: He/him pronouns please

unknown number: Thanks for asking I really appreciate it, actually

unknown number: People don’t always ask

Plan trashed. This is a better plan.

unknown number: she/her for me

unknown number: and no prob man

unknown number: i wasnt gonna assume ur gender

unknown number: ok that mightve sounded bad but i didnt mean it in a bad way like the ‘lol dont assume my gender’ way jerks do sometime i meant it in like a genuine

unknown number: if u have smth u wanna say u should say it because i am very tired and i can go on for a while

Whoops.

Alya can’t say she’s known for her stellar first impressions but she usually doesn’t ramble her way into an awkward corner. She mindlessly flips through apps as she waits for a response.

unknown number: Don’t worry about it! I didn’t take it the wrong way or anything

Alya smiles to herself as she responds. He keeps leaving her openings which is nice. Based off his initial reaction, she thought he’d shut this down as fast as possible.

She realizes this is probably a little weird. But it’s the most exciting thing to happen to her since school let out so…

unknown number: so whats up stranger??

unknown number: b4 u ask im just sitting in my room doing nothing but text u so thats my morning

unknown number: I actually have work soon, so that’s fun

Alya raises her eyebrows. She forgot age was something else she didn’t know yet.

unknown number: oo work that sounds fun

unknown number: what do u do???

unknown number: I work for my dad, it isn’t anything special

unknown number: But it gives me something to do with my time so I don’t mind that much

unknown number: If I randomly stop responding without warning, that’s why

unknown number: good 2 kno

unknown number: can i ask what u do 4 ur dad or is that 2 personal

unknown number: I uh… I just do whatever he needs me to do

unknown number: I don’t get paid or anything but

unknown number: ay it still works as a resume builder

unknown number: Yeah exactly!

unknown number: thats cool that ur dad can get u a job!! my mom and dad could never w their jobs so i just suffer

unknown number: not that thats any different from what i would do anyway as a teenager

Alright, perfect. She’s brought up the age question in a really clunky and awkward way. Better than nothing.

unknown number: Oh how old are you?

unknown number: I’m 15

Alya lets out a sigh of relief.

unknown number: ayy same!

unknown number: just ur fav teenage superhero blogger

unknown number: doing nothing with her life

unknown number: You like superheroes?

unknown number: yeah!! i love comic books. you??

unknown number: I don’t have time to read many but yeah! I’ve always loved Spiderman

unknown number: wonder woman is my g i r l

unknown number: superheroes are just so cool

She waits a few minutes before she decides that he must have gone off to work. Bonding over superheroes, that’s good. A shared interest. She scrolls through their conversation, rereading some of the earlier messages before she creates a contact for him. She makes the name ‘stranger’ and leaves it at that.

It’s not like they’re meeting up or anything. Even if he is an ax murderer, can’t kill her if she never sends him her location.

Alya spends the next couple of hours avoiding her mom as much as possible. She takes her sisters to the park and then goes to the library after she brings them home.

She doesn’t want to talk about it.

She’s clicking through a webcomic that she missed a few weeks worth of updates when her phone buzzes. She glances down, expecting it to be a text from her mom asking if she has any plans or to do chores or something, but is pleasantly surprised to see a message from her stranger.

stranger: Sorry about that, work ran long

stranger: Admittedly, I don’t know very much about Wonder Woman, but she looks very awesome

unknown number: !!!!

unknown number: when ive got more time remind me to tell u all abou t her

unknown number: and to rec some comic books even if u dont have time

stranger: Is she your favorite?

Alya sits back in her chair. This conversation is going to be a long one.

Alya finds herself randomly texting her stranger for the next few days. He doesn’t always respond quickly, but he responds eventually, no matter how weird her original message.

That’s more than she can say for most of her friends.

She texts him as she’s sitting on the counter in her kitchen, stirring a pot.

unknown number: hey stranger whats up

stranger: Just reading, you?

unknown number: making box mac n cheese

stranger: Sounds fun

unknown number: yeah im gonna eat it straight from the pot

The three dots bounce on the screen as the stranger takes his time with the next message. Alya snorts and turns off the stove, straining the pasta and moving to the fridge to find butter and cheese. He’s found his words by the time she’s letting the butter melt in the pot.

stranger: Straight from the pot? Why?

unknown number: because i live life on the edge

unknown number: and also because im too lazy to clean the dish later

stranger: You know what? That’s fair

Sometimes, Alya thinks that she probably shouldn’t think about someone who she doesn’t even know the name of as often as she does, let alone text him as much as she does. But sometimes she’ll see something, and she’ll immediately think of him. Or she’ll just be randomly upset and feel the strong urge to pick up the phone and see if he’s available to vent to.

She knows it’s kind of weird, but she can’t help herself.

One night, at around two in the morning, she finds herself messaging him.

unknown number: hey did i ever mention i was moving

She’s almost asleep, slightly more okay than she was before she sent the text, when he responds.

stranger: You haven’t but we also don’t talk about where we live

Alya stares at the screen for a long moment, the bright light in the darkness making everything on the screen blur into nothing. She just feels kind of numb.

unknown number: yeah

unknown number: like 8 hours away from where i live now

stranger: Wow that’s a big move

unknown number: yeah

stranger: I’m guessing you don’t want to go?

unknown number: not really

unknown number: did u know ur my only friend right now

stranger: I am?

unknown number: me and my other friends sort of cut ties

stranger: The internet exists

stranger: Phones exist

stranger: FaceTime and Skype both kind of suck, but they exist

unknown number: yeah i guess

unknown number: i guess its just too hard for any of us to try

stranger: I have no idea how far apart we live

stranger: We’re doing just fine

unknown number: yeah

unknown number: yeah ur right

One of Alya’s small comforts that comes to mind whenever she thinks about moving is the fact that she’ll have her phone on her and a portable charger. Her stranger will be with her every step of the way.

He’d managed to get her to talk to some of her friends. She doesn’t really think it’ll last once she’s in Paris, but the attempt is nice. And it gives her other people to talk to for the rest of the summer.

It’s too early in the morning when they leave for the last time for her to get really emotional about moving. All she has the energy to do is to take a picture of her old apartment, caption it ‘one last goodbye to marseille’, and save it before sending it to her friends over Snapchat. Before she falls asleep against the car window, she texts it to her stranger.

She wakes up to a new text among the goodbyes from her friends.

stranger: Have a nice car ride! I’ll let you know when I get back from work <3

Alya hides her smile from her sisters and screenshots the text for later.

She texts him from the floor of her new bedroom while her dad starts moving boxes. They’ve been in the process of moving for a while now, shipping most of their things to Paris beforehand. Now all that remains is the actual unpacking.

Alya doesn��t have the energy for that. She just lays on the floor and stares at the ceiling for a while. Then she picks up her phone and sends him a text.

It’s been about an hour since they last talked. She’d talked to him for a good majority of the car ride, only stopping when he was busy and ending the conversation when they arrived so she could get her things out of the car and help her sisters with theirs. She’d sent him a picture of her empty bedroom and said ‘let the unpacking begin :P’. He’d responded with a ‘Good luck!!’ and ‘I’ll let you get to work!’

Alya’s thumb hovers over the send button for a few seconds. She’s never really pushed him for any sort of personal information before.

New city, new Alya. Or something.

unknown number: hey just wondering

unknown number: what do u have me in ur phone as??

unknown number: i have u in here as stranger

stranger: Your contact name?

stranger: Uh awkward but you don’t?

stranger: You’re the only one I just have the number for, so I know who you are that way

Alya reads his texts a few times before she responds. She doesn’t know what she expects in return, but she figures she has nothing to lose.

unknown number: im alya

unknown number: in case u were wondering

stranger: Hi Alya

stranger: I’m Adrien

#adrien agreste #alya cesaire #alyadrien #outsidethelovesquare #miraculous ladybug #my fics #oof its done

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apsbicepstraining · 7 years

Text

Steven Caulker:’ I’ve sat here for years hating myself … This year was almost the end’

The QPR defender talks powerfully about his strives with mental illness, his addictions to gamble and drinking and why “he il be” thankful still to be alive

Steven Caulker has a fable to tell and, as hard as it is to hear, it is best plainly to listen. His stream of consciousness veers from scoring on his England debut less than five years ago and the excite at potential being realised to the frightening mental health issues a matter that have almost terminated it all in the period since. A actor who, from the outside, emerged consecrated with endowment and opportunity speaks of frantic nervousnes and self-loathing.

He entertained killing himself in his darkest instants with his path one of self-destruction. Endeavors at escapism rate him hundreds of thousands of pounds, compensations frittered away in casinoes. Then came the drinking is targeted at numbing the sting. The 25 -year-old notes himself recalling the times spent in custody watching CCTV footage of his misdemeanours, his lawyer at his slope, and not recognising the infamous being on the screen.

Football is still coming to terms with mental illness and Caulker, an international and a last-place linger remember at Queens Park Rangers of financially misguided dates as a Premier League club, has been an easy target. He is not was striving to make excuses or acquire sympathy. These are details he knows unpleasant to narrate. Ive sat here for years hating myself and never understand why it is I couldnt only be like everybody else, he says. This time was almost the end. I seemed for large spans there was no light-footed at the end of the passageway. And yet “hes not” residence a gambling since December, or stroked alcohol since early March. The healing process that can rehabilitate him to the top level is well under way, with this interview, one he attempted out, potentially another step on the road to recovery.

A little under a year ago Caulker had spoken to the Guardian about a life-changing week spent in Sierra Leone, of humbling yet invigorating benevolence work with ActionAid that had rendered him with a sense of view. He returned to be galvanised under Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink at Loftus Road and, having invested the previous season on loan at Southampton and Liverpool unfulfilling stints which fuelled his latent dangers was ready to give his all. Early season recitals against Leeds and Cardiff indicated confidence had been rebuilt, reward for a summer of incessant fitness work.

The trigger that they are able to mail him spiralling to rock bottom would be injury. He snapped his groin at Barnsley and played in pain for weeks, dreading a incantation back in rehabilitation, before succumbing to an accompanied hip objection. I owed it to QPR to try, he says, but I was naive thinking I could still perform with the weeping. He has not played since last-place October, with the period celebrated by personal ferment and, simply of late, resurgence. Talking publicly, he advocated, may place younger participates towards seeking assist if they find themselves trampling the same itinerary, or knowing the same gumption of desertion, in a merciless industry. The real hope is the activity, as gallant as it is, may eventually prove more cathartic for Caulker himself.

He recognises his football ability as a gift but likewise a swear. It took him from Sunday League at 15 into the Premier League four years later, to the 2012 Olympics with Great Britain and into Roy Hodgsons England side for a friendly in Sweden later that year. His talent has persuaded some of the most respected directors he is worth engaging. Yet, while he could still get away with it on the pitch, he lived in denial. It was more than six years into his busines before he admitted he necessitated assist. You always think you can rein it back in again and the money plies a inaccurate sense of security. But at Southampton I realised, mentally, I was extend. I wasnt playing, my job was going nowhere and I had to reach out to someone. Medical doctors there tried to help me but others were just telling me got to go on the tone and express myself.

There was no understanding as to what was happening in my leader. I know theyd returned me in to do a job and they werent there to be babysitters. Just like at QPR, I needed to justify the money they were paying me but I was in a state and, at some place, there has to be a duty of care. Football does not deal well with mental illness. Maybe its changing but the support mechanisms are so often not there. Ive spoken to so many actors who have been told to go to the Sporting Chance clinic and theyve accepted because they know, if they take time off, theyll “losing ones” neighbourhood in the team. Someone gradations in and does well, so youre departed. That dissuades parties from getting improve. You feel obliged to get on with things.

I would urge cubs to speak to the PFA, to speak to their director, and not be scared about being stopped if they are experiencing like I did. Be brave enough to say you need improve before its too late. The feeling Id ever involved something to take the edge off. Football was my flee as a kid but that changed when I was chucked into the first team as a adolescent and abruptly football came with distres. My behavior of to address it, even in the early stages of my career, was gambling. Im an addict. Im addicted to triumphing, which people say is a positive in football but certainly not when it extends to gambling. I was addicted to trying to beat the system, because you reassure yourself there is a plan to it and you can beat it. You can never get your brain around why you arent.

Steven Caulker, here celebrating after scoring on his England debut in 2012, says his football ability is a gift but too a affliction. Photograph: Michael Regan/ Getty Images

He has played 123 ages in the Premier League and for eight teams with the same, horribly familiar hertz of insecurity and self-destruction seeking him to each. There is always a catalyst to the nosedive. The sleepless darkness, sat up till 5am replaying every bad decision Ive ever became in my life, perturbing what will be next Tottenham moved me to Bristol City on loan at 18 and they set me in a flat in the city centre surrounded by nightclubs, two casinos opposite, the various kinds of coin Id never seen in my life, and no counseling whatsoever. I was plucked formerly by a member of staff and told Id been recognized in the casino at 3am but their posture was: What you do in your free time is your business. Just dont gave it affect your acts out on the pitch.

At Swansea a year later it was an injury which created it all to the surface, and Spurs communicated me to Boasting Chance to sort myself out while I was recovering from my knee but I wasnt ready. I hadnt experienced enough agony to form me want to stop. I was gambling heavily when I went back to Tottenham, biding up to crazy hours of the darknes in casinos. I guess never feeling good enough played a big part in that. I never appeared I was on the same degree as any of the first-teamers but a big win in the casino and fund in my back pocket might change that. Being stopped sounds me even more because football was what I had relied on to make me feel better. So then the gambling was every single day. The pain of forgetting all my fund, combined with the pity and guilt, ingest away at me. So Id drink myself into oblivion so I wouldnt have to feel anything. I was numb but I was out of control.

The chairman, Daniel Levy, eventually attempted him out on a post-season trip-up to the Bahamas. He just said: The room you act is phenomenal. You either sort yourself out or lead but I can assure you, if you leave, youll be going down , not up. I was young, stupid. I took it as a challenge, a chance to prove him wrong. I was so immature. So I went to Cardiff and, for six months, everything was amazing. I was chieftain, the manager, Malky Mackay, knew I had some issues but offered to be there for me. I experienced wanted, so there was no gambling , no heavy binges but the second largest he was sacked, all the beasts came back. Thats all it took. Even before we played the next game, Id persuasion myself good-for-nothing would be the same. Thats the kind of cataclysmic envisioning Ive had to address.

Steven Caulker, here playing for Tottenham against Arsenal in 2010, says he made a big mistake leaving Spurs. Photo: Tom Jenkins for the Guardian

I pointed up at QPR that summertime, 2014, trying to hold it together, but the prompt there came in the second largest recreation when we were pummelled 4-0 at Tottenham. That detecting coming off the tone at White Hart Lane, knowing marriage been humiliated and that Levy was sitting up in the stand thinking: I told you so There was no disclaiming it any more. Id made a big mistake leaving Spurs. I should have stayed and sorted myself out. I required the ground to swallow me up. It just pounded in my psyche: dejection, unhappines, bitternes. From that instant I was run, even if I never wanted to accept it, and there is nothing that intensified. Id go for days without sleeping. I dont known better I endured it. That time was an absolute nightmare.

It was a vicious circle. Wed lose at the weekend and the love would get at me, and Id be interrupting. I really wanted to help us get results but we werent good enough and Id walk away taking responsibility in my head for the whole crews flunks. I couldnt sleep, are concerned about what had happened. The only comfort I acquired was in booze. It would silence the tones of indecision and self-hate, temporarily regardless, but Id be too intoxicated to go into teach, and the blackouts Id have no remember of anything. It could be Monday and Id have no remembrance of what had happened since Saturday night. Id wake up, roll over and look at my phone, and thered be texts from people saying: Did you really do this last-place darknes? The director want to talk to you. It was petrifying because I didnt know what had happened.

There were occasions where reference is would wake up in a police cell. He pouts when asked how often he has been arrested, upset to admit the above figures, but the drunk and disorderly offences would flare up from London to Southampton to Merseyside. Sometimes Id be sat there with law enforcement agencies and my solicitor, watching the CCTV footage of what Id done, and I didnt recognise myself. I couldnt conceive the person or persons I was. Its so hard to accept I could be like that. In Liverpool I was waking up in the middle of the nighttime throwing up, people were blackmailing me, association proprietors and bouncers: Offer money or well sell this story on you. And I had no meaning what Id even done on those blackouts. I eventually told the sorority I couldnt function and needed to go back into rehab.

Things might have improved last-place season under Hasselbaink had the hip hurt, diagnosed as a week-long edition that became a complaint which induced five different diagnosis , not interpret him powerless is again. Id expensed the organization 8m, was one of the top earners and one of the few left from the Premier League, and beings had no explanation why I wasnt acting. Why I was absent. It ended up as my toughest year ever. I couldnt learn. My girlfriend lost her mother and was grieving while living with someone struggling with craving. My son, who lives with his mother in Somerset, is still in academy so Id go months without recognizing him. He had always been my safe place. There was no release.

QPR and my agent tried to push me towards Lokomotiv Moscow in January, saying it would be a fresh start. Portion of me contemplated the money they were offering could solve all my difficulties but why would being on my own out in Russia help? I had no feeling how to separate the cycle and is available on Moscow while still disabled only appeared a recipe for disaster. The director, Ian Holloway, was actually tell people to stand. Id been in his office close to rips, so he said: How anyone could feel sending you there would be a good theme is beyond me. You need to get yourself right. I realized him for that but, for the sorority, I can see why it was appealing to be shot of me but I was in no fit district to move and eventually pulled the plug on it.

Id had one last-place gamble and lost a blaze of a lot of money in December. A last blowout. It was at that point I lastly countenanced I could not win; that there was no quick fix , no more fantasizing I could save the world through one good nighttime on the roulette wheel. It was all a fantasize that took me away from having to feel anything. I entertained suicide a lot in that stage. A dark era. Everything Id gone through in football, where had it taken me? All the remorse, the shame, the shame, the public humiliation in the working paper and for what? I could cling to my son, to what Id done in Africa, or the dimensions Id bought their own families, but Id blown everything else. I calculate Ive lost 70% what Ive payed. When “were losing” that amount of money, the guilt thats so many lives you could have changed. There was no flee , no way out, other than to leave.

Steven Caulker says: In Liverpool I was waking up in the middle of the darknes throwing up, parties were extorting me, club owneds and bouncers. Picture: Sarah Lee for the Guardian

But, in the moments of clarity, I knew I couldnt do that because of my son. I havent gambled since but the drink crowded the void for a while. I was frightened and didnt feel like there was anywhere else to transform. Rehab didnt production before so why would it work now? I stupidly took convenience in the alcohol but it objective up deepening the depression. It was relentless from every slant. Until 12 March. Thats the day I lost my “drivers licence”. Thats when I realised my life had now become unmanageable.

Caulker was ordered to pay 12,755 in penalties and costs at Slough magistrates court at the end of March and was banned from driving for 18 months, having refused to blow into a breathalyser after police were called to a parking lot near Windsor Castle. I knew I was over the limit, I knew Id get the ban but I didnt want to tell my parents Id fucked up again. What if I had driven the car out of the car park and killed someone? No, that was it. Ive been up before a adjudicate four or five times. No more second probabilities. Its a incarcerate sentence next. I was still injured and unable to play, so I signed off sick. I went to see a specialist who diagnosed me with depression and nervousnes. He prescribed me medication and we put together a design where I would take some time away to sort myself out.

He and his lover travelled to Africa and India, is contributing to orphanages, homeless shelters and academies where the bear was exposed and obvious. He has attended countless Gamblers Anonymous and Alcoholics Anonymous gathers, and has reached out to support works in video games such as Clarke Carlisle for advice. He has not touched alcohol since his arrest in March. He takes medication, a feeling stabiliser is striving to match my high-priceds and lows, and address that substance inequality which draws my practices so cataclysmic, twice a day. Golf is a new, most constructive vice.

People say Ive done all this because Ive had too much money shed at me but I know teenagers without a penny who have the same addictive characters as me. Whether I played football or not I would still be suffering from this illness, precisely without the public pressure and mortification. Addiction does not care. I am a man of extremes. Parties dont find me doing the additional training, feeing right, going to the reserve every night to get fit, were represented at the anonymous convenes, doing the donation make. That is still me. That is who I am. But I get fucked by these other demons and I desperately necessary something in the middle. I feel like Im getting there now, that things have finally changed.

Im doing interesting thing merely to prompt me to stay on track. I could be relying on taxis to get me everywhere while Im banned but Im exploiting public transport. Im living in one of the owneds I own in Feltham, back where I grew up, to stir me recollect how hard I had to work to get out of here aged 15. Its a remember that, if I continue to unravel, I wont improve my statu again. Money considers the fissures. It can be evil. It prolongs the agony.

QPRs musicians reported for pre-season last-place Friday but Caulker, who has one year to run on his contract and has been improving all summertime with the former conference player Drewe Broughton at Goals centre in Hayes, had been signed off until July. Life at the golf-club had degenerated into an incessant flow of internal disciplinary hearings and, despite Holloway having become clear his desire to retain the centre-halfs business, his future will not is currently under Loftus Road. What happens next is all a bit perplexed, all a bit uncertain, he says. The manager has texted me several times offering his support and “says hes” misses me at the club but my brand-new representative has been informed by the owners Im not welcome back.

For too long Ive disliked everything about myself and I needed to learn to affection myself again. I miss video games like crazy. I dont detect as if Ive experienced playing football since Cardiff. I dont want to type my identify into Google and just see a roster of humbling narrations. I want people to remember I am a footballer who was good enough to represent his country at 20 and still has 10 years left in the game. At 40% of my ability, I was playing at the highest level. Now I feel good mentally and I want the chance to show people, including my son, what I am absolutely capable of. Wherever the opportunity starts, Im exactly appreciative still to be alive.

In the UK, the Samaritans can be contacted on 116 123.

In the US, the National Suicide Prevention Hotline is 1-800-273-8255.

In Australia, the crisis support assistance Lifeline is on 13 11 14.

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Steven Caulker:’ I’ve sat here for years hating myself … This year was almost the end’

The QPR defender talks powerfully about his strives with mental illness, his addictions to gamble and drinking and why “he il be” thankful still to be alive

Steven Caulker, here celebrating after scoring on his England debut in 2012, says his football ability is a gift but too a affliction. Photograph: Michael Regan/ Getty Images

Steven Caulker, here playing for Tottenham against Arsenal in 2010, says he made a big mistake leaving Spurs. Photo: Tom Jenkins for the Guardian

Steven Caulker says: In Liverpool I was waking up in the middle of the darknes throwing up, parties were extorting me, club owneds and bouncers. Picture: Sarah Lee for the Guardian

In the UK, the Samaritans can be contacted on 116 123.

In the US, the National Suicide Prevention Hotline is 1-800-273-8255.

In Australia, the crisis support assistance Lifeline is on 13 11 14.

The post Steven Caulker:’ I’ve sat here for years hating myself … This year was almost the end’ appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

from WordPress http://ift.tt/2wBPG5y via IFTTT

#IFTTT #WordPress

0 notes