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sukirichi · 3 years

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sweet lies (m.)

His lies were way too sweet – and you were too addicted to make him stop.

cw. oral (f receiving), fingering, slight body worship, public sex, multiple orgasm, orgasm denial, dirty talk, praising, titty sucking, nsfw, toxic megumi, fwb, slight angst, the traditional unedited fic

note. choose your fighter, megumi or sukuna 😈 and thank you to besties nie and ellie for editing this STOP SHOWING YOUR ANKLES CHIRREN

series masterlist | 01 | 02 | 03

Megumi slides your shirt down your shoulder to press kisses on the bare skin. Your head tilted to the side to give him easier access. You hate that you feel so weak around him, your hands gripping his thigh you’re currently straddling, already so breathless from his teasing ministrations.

“You should move back closer to campus,” he mutters at the juncture of your neck, pulling another soft gasp from you the moment his fingers dip inside your damp underwear. You feel him smile at your skin, using his deft fingers to push two of them inside your sopping hole. He pumps them in slowly, teasingly slow, coaxing your arousal to coat his fingers while you grind against his palm, eyes shut tight from the pulling knot in your stomach.

“It’s hard to fuck you when you’re a half-hour drive away.”

You scoff against him and roll your eyes. “I wonder why I got kicked out from the dorms in the first place.” Exactly two weeks ago, Megumi snuck in drunk and horny into your dorms, shaking you awake to get rid of his boner.

It was a sloppy quickie, mostly because he’s eaten brownies and got fuck drunk before stumbling beside your bed. The insensitive idiot left his rum bottle under your bed just as he wobbles back to his frat house, and as if things couldn’t get worse, there was a surprise dorm inspection the next day. Not only did they find cum stains all over your sheets, but your bed also reeked of weed and alcohol, resulting in a quick expulsion from the dorms.

If it weren’t for the help of one of your professors, Gojo-sensei, you wouldn’t have been able to find a decent, cheap apartment. It came with the price of rooming with one of his old acquaintances, a muscular, heavily tattooed guy who seemed to be a few years older than you.

He really wasn’t a bad roommate. Other than the fact he seemed really intimidating, the dude mostly kept to himself, either locked in his room or away for work that you don’t really get to see him that much. His place was decent too, your room bigger than the last, so it was a good deal, but as Megumi said, it’s really hard to fuck around when you’re so far away.

“Not my fault, you’re so weak for me, baby,” he taunts as you tighten around him, his pace increasing with his lips sucking love marks on your skin. You can’t help but snicker at his actions; if you didn’t know better, you’d say he was jealous.

But this was Megumi you were talking about – everyone knew he never got jealous.

“I don’t like you here.”

“Aw, sucks for you.”

“I’m serious,” he grips your waist tighter, drawing a drawled-out moan from you. Megumi rubs your clit with his thumb and swallows your moans through open-mouthed kisses, your fists balled into his hoodie. Fuck this, you’re completely aware he’ll never like you the way you like him, but it’s so hard to feel sad about that when he’s knuckle deep inside you and playing you like a violin. As much as you hated him and his pretty face, you have to admit his fingers were fucking magical.

Megumi nips at your lower lip before thrusting his fingers in and out of you at a numbing pace, not taking long until you’re creaming all over his hands. You pant at the orgasm, head falling back into his shoulder.

He brushes your hair away from your eyes and kisses the side of your head, the gesture way too sweet for someone who insisted on a ‘no-strings attached’ sexual relationship. But you don’t complain – this is like a dream come true for you – allowing him to leave a trail of kisses down your jaw instead, his wet hands squeezing your thighs in a possessive grip.

“You should just live with me. I’m not comfortable with the fact you live with a man.”

There’s a trace of jealousy behind his voice that you’d normally swoon at, but he’s pushing you to the edge and fucking around with your feelings so much that you can’t even enjoy the rare moment. You push yourself off him and reach for your discarded shorts on the floor, sliding the material over your legs while Megumi shamelessly stares at your ass behind you, his head resting on his hands.

“Megs, I barely even talk to the guy; he’s always away at work. You’ve really got nothing to worry about,” you tell him, making quick work of tidying your school packets just to ignore his heated gaze. “Besides, you and I aren’t even dating. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“You never hold back with your words, huh?”

You shot him a look, an angry glare that should be threatening, but the glint in his eyes just tells you he’s enjoying every second of it. “You like it.”

“Hmm, maybe I do,” Megumi tugs you back to the bed, effortlessly, as he flips you under him. In this position, he’s situated right between your bodies, hands clasped against one another. He’s absolutely stunning, bathed in the sliver of the moonlight, in your bed, no less. You’re a flurry of emotions – stuck between wanting to fuck him and kissing him, and then scream at him to let him know he should stop playing with your heart.

Megumi’s eyes darken as he traces over your silhouette, watching the way your chest falls heavily at his touches. He uses one hand to trace the tip of his finger from your breast down to your clothed core, a smirk painting his lips when you buck your hips up at the contact.

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him.

“Just promise me you’re not letting others see your pretty pussy okay?” he tugs your shorts to the side, tongue darting out to lick at his lips at the sight of your glistening folds. You’ve lost count of the times he’s made you cum tonight with just his fingers; the raging hard-on hidden behind his sweatpants is proof that he’s quite different today by letting you get fuck-drunk on him first. Perhaps it’s his way of keeping you so helplessly wrapped around his finger, fucking you good enough that no one else comes second to him, and he knows this. He sees this from the desire pooled in your eyes.

Megumi scoots down lower to stare at your pussy, which is already embarrassing since you’re so wet down there. He simply sighs at your bare cunt before him, using two fingers to pull the lips apart, followed by a groan at the apparent slick. “This is all mine.”

In your lust-filled haze, you scrunch your eyebrows and sneer, “How about you mind your own business?”

“The fuck did you just say?” he chuckled, his warm breath tickling your inner thighs. “You’re mine, babe. Haven’t I fucked you enough to drill in that in your pretty little head?” Megumi doesn’t waste his time diving straight to your eager, awaiting core. Your hands fly down to tug at his hair as you grind your hips to his face, legs weak from his lips wrapped tightly around your clit. “You know I’ll get mad if you touch anyone else.”

“Fuck off, Megumi,” you spat out, “We’ve been fooling around for a year, and you still refuse to date me every time I ask you out officially. Listen, I understand you’re not ready for that kind of relationship, so you could at least respect that you don’t get the exclusivity of keeping me all to yourself.” Truly, this rebellion is so uncalled for and unexpected. The moment you had your eyes on him and made it your life’s mission to win him over, not once had you complained that he never wanted to take things a step further. But it’s been too long, too fucking long, and too many no baby’s already – your pride was beyond crushed. It was about time you set the boundaries this time, and you quiver around his skillful tongue, strong and firm as you rasp, “I’ll fuck whoever I want.”

“You’re lying.”

“What?”

“You love me,” Megumi pulls away from your clit with an audible pop, his face glistening from the smeared juices all over his cheeks. However, his eyes are narrowed, almost as if he’s scrutinizing you. You can’t focus on the fact he denied you of your orgasm because he’s looking at you so seriously, only to tilt his head to the side, a smirk playing on his lips. “It’s written all over your face.”

“Maybe I do, but are you deserving of it?” you push his head away and ignore the aching in your chest. Megumi shuffles close to you, pulling you in for another cuddling session before you hide under the sheets, making it clear you were not to be touched anymore. “Go home, Megs. I’m tired.”

In all honesty, you want him to stay. You want him to fight harder to win your approval back. He’s not a big cuddler, more of the type to pass out beside you after he’s gotten his own orgasm, but you’ve been so sure that maybe he might be different today. Under the sheets, your lip trembles in anticipation, eyes blinking wide at the dark silhouette outside your metaphorical shield. But as Megumi playfully slaps your ass, his warmth leaving the bed, you’re not really surprised.

He never stayed the night before – why would he do that now?

Silly girl, you chastised yourself.

“Fine. But I’ll be back tomorrow,” you hear him scuffle for his shoes outside, a smile evident in his voice as his words float around the silence of your apartment. “Wear my favourite set like a good girl for me?”

“Go away!”

Megumi’s laughter echoes all the way to where you curl yourself into a ball. You hate that his laughter alone makes your heart skip a beat, even if it doesn’t carry any affection behind then. “See you then, baby,” is all he says before the door slams shut, leaving you alone to your thoughts and insecurities all over again.

His lies were way too sweet – and you were too addicted to make him stop.

You’ve really hit rock bottom; that’s the only explanation for your actions. Megumi was coming over in a few hours, unsurprising that he chooses 3 AM of all times. Not only did it mean his frat brothers would be asleep, but it also meant that his other side bitches would assume he’s doing the same. You know, of course, you fucking know you’re not the only one, but it didn’t hurt any less.

The pain just keeps getting worse every time you think of him, said thoughts always comprised with your shirt trapped between your teeth and your hands down your pants. There’s no denying you’re addicted to him, though being addicted to a never-ending heartbreak was a different story.

A story which you’re not ready to find out yet, so you dress up in your sexiest dress and take the nearest cab, heading to a place where you definitely shouldn’t be.

Two more hours before Megumi arrives. Two more hours before you fall into that endless cycle of fucking and him leaving you alone, promising he’ll be back tomorrow, before it all repeats and traces back to square one. He’s not going to stop, and neither are you, so where was any of this supposed to go now? He doesn’t want you, not in that way, that very much is clear – so why was it so hard to let go of him?

Deep down at the back of your mind, you know your answer. It’s because, like the lovesick fool you are, you’re still hoping that maybe someday he’ll look at you the way you look at him.

Fuck it, is all you think of as you flash the bouncer your ID, not missing the way his eyes fall down your tits that are so close to popping out of your dress a minute longer than welcomed. Snatching your card away from him, you push against the crowd, immediately regretting coming here as the loud thumping of music and stench of sex and alcohol washes over your senses.

You make a beeline for the empty bar, save for the bartender who had his back turned to you as he wipes the glasses over.

You clear your throat to make your presence known. The first thing you see is a broad back, thick lines of dark tattoos outlined even in his white button-up shirt. He places the glasses down and moves expertly before you, sliding shot glasses next to others before procuring a drink out of nowhere, a greeting about to leave his lips when you both make eye contact.

The drink stays still on his hands, blinking for a moment at your equally stupefied face before he says, “It’s you.”

“S-Sukuna,” you greet back, smiling at your roommate. You’ve barely seen the guy the past few weeks other than sleepy good morning’s, and I’ll take the trash out tonight before both of you disappeared into your own worlds.

Sukuna is...well, you don’t know, exactly. It’s not like he’s around much for you to make a proper judgment of, but he’s a pretty nice roommate, filling up the fridge whenever you guys run out of beer. There were times he nods at you as a greeting before leaving for work, too, leaving you alone at the house from midnight all the way to the morning. Other than thinking your roommate is pretty unique from his face tattoos and roguish handsomeness that contrasts his rather frequent sleepy mumbles, you’ve failed to realize he could actually be like a normal human. Seeing him stand before you, his forearms lined with veins and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, taut waist emphasized by a black vest, you swallow audibly.

He’s entirely different from the guy you often see passed out on the couch, but it’s a welcomed sight, nonetheless.

Sukuna’s actually...pretty hot.

Hiding the thumping of your heart – whether out of nervousness or it’s just trying to match the beat of the music – you beam up at him, eyes glossed over with curiosity as he reciprocates with a more mischievous grin.

If he’s easily read your mind that you are indeed attracted to him, he makes no comment about it, focusing on hearing your voice over the music instead.

He leans over to you, not pulling away even as your lips faintly graze his ear. Fuck, he’s got piercings too. You greedily drink in his masculine scent, thankful that the music thumping is so loud he won’t hear the frenzy mess inside your ribcage.

“I didn’t know you worked here. Heck, I didn’t know you were a bartender, but I guess the irregular sleep patterns make sense somehow.”

“What did you think I was, sweetheart?”

His deep voice reverberates all the way down to your toes, his throaty chuckle hoarse. “I-I don’t know,” you pull away nervously, blinking up at him way too innocently. “A gangster, to be honest,” you blurted out. Sukuna tilts his head to the side, and you immediately raise your hands beside your head as you mull over how offensive your words might’ve been. “I don’t mean anything offensive by it, I swear! It was just my first impression!”

“First impressions are usually false. Anyway. It’s fine,” he shrugs, resuming his task of wiping over the glasses.

His hands were so big, his fingers long and slender...your attention is drawn to the adept manner of how he wipes the cloth using the tip of his finger, reaching behind him to get another glass, all without keeping his eyes off of yours. It leaves much room to muse about what else he could do with those hands, and you squirm at your seat, opting to look at his face instead since that would be more polite than eye-fucking his hands.

Sukuna smirks, that cunning twinkle in his eyes matching the dim lights of the bar. Somehow, you suddenly feel so lightheaded.

“If it makes you feel better, I thought you were a shy girl at first, but your boy toy brings a different side of you every time he comes around.”

You squeak in embarrassment, “You’re home by then?!”

“Only sometimes,” he reassures with a laugh. “But I’ve heard enough,” Right. He’s older and definitely more experienced than your sexual escapades with Megumi – this must be nothing new to him by now, and yet, your skin flushes heated. “Don’t look too flustered, sweetheart. It’s not the first time I’ve heard of that,” he nods at you, “You don’t look very happy with him, though.”

“Tch, now you’re assessing my relationship status?”

“I don’t have to,” he shrugs, the gesture so damn reassured. Chuckling at your apparent frown, Sukuna shakes his head to himself. “It’s written all over your face you’re not satisfied with something. You wouldn’t be here if you were feeling good in the first place.”

“How much have you heard?”

“Oh, I don’t care about how you scream his name. That’s none of my business,” he grumbles under his breath rather bitterly – but that could just be the music messing with you. Sukuna holds your gaze as he sets the final glass down before you, his elbows languidly resting on the counter that separates you both. You’re left staring at him in wonder, watching the way he pours the drink right in front of you, the movement of his lips so intoxicating and even erotic you nearly didn’t hear him say, “But as your roommate, I wish you’d stop inviting him around and just kick him out already. He doesn’t like you, you know.”

He doesn’t like you. Megumi doesn’t like you – you know that already.

Glare deepening at your surprisingly nosy roommate, you take the glass from him and down it in one go. Sukuna’s brows shot up in awe, arms crossed against his puffed-out chest as you slam the glass down.

You were fuming.

“You don’t know a single fucking thing about me.”

“That’s right, I don’t,” he answers without skipping a beat, “But we men, we understand each other,” You open your mouth to retort, silenced by Sukuna’s finger pressing against your lips. You freeze at the contact, and Sukuna makes use of your state, continuing right where he left from.

“Listen, take it from me as free advice. I’ll even put your drink on the house.”

Really, nothing is stopping you from biting off this guy’s finger, but he looks like he knows something you don’t that you just choose to keep your mouth shut.

Satisfied at your decision, Sukuna smiles sweetly, reaching over to tuck your hair behind your ear. The gesture puts you under his spell, and he lingers there a little longer, massaging the lobes of your ears before he pulls back just as fast, almost as if he never touched you in the first place.

You fight back the urge to huff.

Why were men so complicated? One moment, they were hot, then cold the next. You would just never get it.

“That guy you’ve been mooning over for who knows how long? He doesn’t give a fuck about you. You’re just someone who warms his cock every now and then, but I guarantee he’s thinking about someone else in his head when he’s with you,” he announces straightforwardly, not giving you the time to recover before he shrugs like his words didn’t just slap you in the face. “Just call quits on him, sweetheart. There’s really no need to waste such a pretty face. Ever heard of the saying – there’s plenty of fish in the sea?” he pushes another drink to you, “Drink up and loosen a little. With a face and body like that, you’ll find someone better soon.”

“I highly doubt I can find someone better when all everyone sees is my appearance.”

“I don’t,” he hinted with dark eyes, “But I assure you it might be what people see first. You do have a face of an angel; men are into that shit.”

Taking the drink from him with a loud sigh, you feel yourself weaken. You bury your head in your hands, replaying all the memories you’ve had with Megumi. It’s foreseeable that almost all of them consisted of you two fucking, nothing but a faint memory of two where Megumi actually cared enough to perform aftercare. The thought makes you wince; he really is an ass, but you’re also so hopelessly infatuated with him that you refuse to acknowledge the truth.

“Megs and I...we’re just complicated, okay?”

“Sure.”

“I swear!” your defenses are hopelessSukuna’s knowing smirk, the man holding back a snigger from your silent rage. “Besides, maybe his disinterested nature is what made me attracted to him in the first place. I like the mystery. It’s not bad for a girl to enjoy searching for answers every now and then.”

“Except he’s already given you a concrete no, and you’re the only one still hanging onto him,” he reminds you. At your dropped jaw, Sukuna has the audacity to wink. That motherfucker –“Pressed a button, kitten?” he pats your head, leaving you to be even more riled up. “Don’t be sad. It’s not like he’s the only guy who can make you feel good.” As if a light bulb went up in his head, Sukuna hid his smile by turning his back to you, pretending to be engrossed in the drinks all laid out in front of him. But even with his face obscured from your view, his words rang thick and clear: “In fact, I bet you your cute ass someone else can change your former perspective on what pleasure really is.”

“Yeah, like who?” you snorted sarcastically, “You?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that,” he faces you, absolutely shameless as he eyes your cleavage. Sukuna clenches his jaw at the tempting view before him, sliding his gaze back to yours to look for the answers in your face. “If you want a demonstration, that is.”

Sukuna hasn’t really touched you or even spoke explicitly, but you’re breathing hard anyways, subconsciously clawing the countertop.

You don’t know if it’s your voice or his that’s ringing your ears, the words what’s holding you back? the last thing you hear before grabbing him by the collar, leaning over the counter to taste his lips. Sukuna smiles at the kiss, his large hands cupping your face in them. His thumb traces circles over your jaw as you greedily suck on his lip, uncaring that you’re making out with your roommate in a public place.

As if remembering that he’s still at work, Sukuna pulls away for a moment, diving in for one last peck that has you giggling adorably. Sukuna’s grin grows wider at your flushed cheeks, snapping his fingers at someone from a distance. “Geto, break!”

The guy who must be Geto popped his head out of the backroom, frowning at Sukuna’s words when his gaze lands on you and the not-so-subtle needy grip you have on Sukuna’s collar. His mouth forms into an ‘o’ shape before he gives a thumb up, disappearing afterward.

That’s all Sukuna needs before he’s leaving the counter, breathing in your panicked squeals as he picks you up, your legs flailing to wrap around his.

You’re giggling and laughing all the way to the back of the club, your hands tugging at his undercut and his own squeezing at your ass. Sukuna kicks the door of the restroom open, which is thankfully clean (you made the right choice choosing a luxurious club), settles you down before him, and locking the stall.

His lips are on yours in an instant, his hands tugging off your dress and scowling at it as if it’s offensive. “Calm down,” you tease him, “They didn’t do anything wrong.”

“They were a fucking tease the whole night,” he glares at the lacy cups of your bra, his breathing laboured as he cups them. You throw your head back until it thumps at the door, teeth muffling the moans that threaten to erupt. Sukuna unclasps the material in one swift movement, surprising with just how many times he’s done this before. “Fucking gorgeous tits – why the fuck does your boy toy not want to keep you to himself?”

“He’s – oh fuck,” you scrape Sukuna’s scalp, his tongue wrapping around the swollen bud. He caresses the other one not to leave it unattended, and he’s grinding you against the door so hard, his dick poking at your dress leaving very little to the imagination.

Sukuna chuckles at your broken response, rutting his hips in such a sensual manner you didn’t think he was capable of. “You were saying?”

You glare at him from under your chin, but he can’t take you seriously while he’s sucking at your tit like a child. This man is brave enough to nip it with his teeth, the sting making you hiss and buck against him. “He’s possessive,” you breathe through your mouth, a little in disbelief you’re casually thinking about him while Sukuna gets down on his knees. “He wants me to be exclusive with him, but he’s free to fuck who he pleases.”

Sukuna rubs both palms in front of his face as if preparing to devour a meal, which he’ll do so soon enough. He pushes your dress and bunches it at your waist, tugging your underwear to the side before he groans. The sound is so deep and masculine, so utterly frustrated for some reason you can’t understand.

“Now that’s unfair,” he mumbles absentmindedly, peppering your pelvis with kisses. The feverish touch of his warm lips on your already burning skin has you clutching at the door, feeling your legs weaken.

His eagerness and distrait acts of body worship drive you crazy. Megumi is good at making you feel desired and fuckable – that much you know from his habits of pushing his pants down at pretty much anywhere as long as you were around, claiming you’re a walking ‘boner trigger.’ Sukuna, on the other hand, was a lot more patient and attentive to his movements, taking the time to make you feel you were more than just a body and a hole. It’s odd, hella fucking odd, because this man is older than you and a friend of your professors, but did you care? No. Did you want him to fuck your brains out in a public restroom? Fuck yes.

A wanton moan paints the wall as Sukuna slides your thong off just above your knee, his eyes closed as he buries his cheek in it. You look down with wide eyes, hands grabbing at nothing and everything at the same time. From the looks of it, he’s sniffing your sex, the sight so outright erotic that you only moan louder.

How was it possible to be this much turned on?

By the time he’s opened his eyes, his entire demeanour’s shifted. Gone was the enthusiastic and sly bartender, now replaced with a much more animalistic entity residing beside it.

Before you could make yourself comfortable, Sukuna hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, the tip of your heel grazed against the tight walls of the stall. He licks a flat stripe from your hole that clenches around nothing, moving upwards in such a passionate, languid manner he’s making you forget you’re literally in a fucking restroom. Your breasts heave up and down from how you’re struggling to breathe, his tongue pushing past through the tight ring of resistance until he’s plunged through your core. You wobble above him, remaining upright only by his arm pushing your back flat on your under boob.

Sukuna slurps at your cunt yearningly, the hums he gives every now and then, making your core vibrate. You grind your pussy on his face, the black marks lined on his face glistening.

He moves to suck at your clit, transitioning after each beat to slurping the swollen bud and kissing your lips as if he was making out with it. You’re sure you’re making a mess on his face, but he doesn’t give you time to feel embarrassed about it. He spreads your legs further until your muscles ache from the stretch, the pain accompanied by your stomach tightening.

“S-Sukuna, oh, oh yeah,” you bang your fist on the door, his smug chuckles sending you over the edge. Your pupils blow wide as you feel the impending orgasm weigh down on you heavily, about to send you into overdrive by his tongue swiping at your lips, teasing you to give it to him more, give it to him harder. Turning your head down to warn him you’re coming, the words die on your throat because he’s already looking at you, his cheeks and nose smothered with your shining slick, and the brat is smirking. “Shit, you’re a little—” Sukuna cuts you off by generously sucking your clit one more time, pulling the muscle taut just to show you that it’s rolling between his lips. It looks fucking insane and filthy that you come right there and then.

Your orgasm is so strong that you actually slip from your heels. A scream from you is knocked back into you just as fast, Sukuna moving quick and graceful in one fluid movement. He catches your leg and shoves you against the door, gripping at your hips until you’re bending forward, ass perked, and wiggling just for him.

For a split second, you’re sure you hear the unbuckling of a belt, but it all fades in your clouded mind.

Sukuna enters you in one thrust, the sensation of being filled up so soon rendering you speechless. Literally absolutely silent, palms flat on the door and tongue lolled out, all the burning in your body focused on your centre.

He releases a grunt at finally being inside your plush, warm walls. Sukuna allows you to get used to his length for a solid minute, both of you catching your breath in the meantime. Your tits are sprawled out, and you’re a shaky mess, feeling nothing less of dirty yet so aroused that you can’t do anything about it. Sukuna thrusts in slowly at first, and that’s when you feel the size difference between him and Megumi. Megs was definitely blessed in the dick department, and he’s always been so cocky about it, but goddamn, Sukuna was beyond huge.

You think you could cum again just from him filling you up. He was stretching you out so well that he leaves behind a faint burn, making you feel as if it’s your first time all over again – all for the good reasons.

He soon begins to set his pace, one of his hands tugging at your ponytail so he could see your glossy eyes and mouth hanging open. Sukuna scoffs at your fucked out state, too cock-hungry even to form coherent sentences. His length is slipping past your folds in such a tantalizing, delicious state, the prominent veins of his cock kissing the bumpy ridges of your walls. He was right – you’re definitely changing your perspective on pleasure because you don’t think you’ve felt this good in your life.

With Megumi, it was mostly always about his own release. With Sukuna, he’s making sure you get to feel inch by luscious inch slipping out of you before he slides them back in, his deep moans the dirtiest thing you’ve ever heard.

“Aw, look at you,” he coos, kissing you sideways sloppily. Sukuna reaches the edges of your lips but licks at your skin anyway. His canines revealed to graze at your skin. It’s so animalistic, so carnal, and he’s fucking you with such primal need that you forget everything you once knew about sex. “Your pretty pussy is drooling for cock, sweetheart. Such a dirty little thing, taking me like this.”

Now, this was lust as its purest form, the rhythm of his hips so sinful you’ve lost faith in everything but how he’s making you feel.

The walls are pounding with the bass boosting outside, but soon even the loud volume of the synthesized music is drowned by your whimpers. Sukuna lets go of your hair to place his hands on your hips. If he was dominant before, he only encourages you to scream his name louder, realizing that he was still being nice seconds ago, but now he’s the one controlling you.

He pounds roughly into you until you’re crying, your drool dribbling from your lips and small patches dropping to the floor. It’s the same with your cunt. You’re so wet that you can feel squirts of cum staining his pants and your legs. Sukuna doesn’t stop praising you on how you’re so perfect, how your cunt is the tightest he’s ever fucked, and now he gets why your boy toy could never really let you go. In the middle of it all, he manages to slip in a comment that maybe Megumi’s dick isn’t big enough to stretch you out because you’re wrapped around him like a vice, to which you respond that he’s just massive.

“Fuck yeah, I am,” he agrees cockily, eyes narrowed at where his length kept being swallowed by your pussy. “I’m fucking destroying you, sweetheart. You’ll be broken by the end of this, fuck.”

His words are like ambrosia you’re getting drunk on, the filthiness of his mouth fuelling your desire. Your body heats up at the same time that familiar tingling tightens in your stomach, and you blindly stretch your arm out behind him. Sukuna easily reads your mind and takes your hand, looping his fingers with yours. His palm is right above your knuckle, and the angle hurts your arm so bad you cry harder.

“Please, please, please,” you beg him and snap your hips back to meet his dick thrust by thrust, “I’m so fucking close, please—”

“I got you, sweetheart,” he leans down for a quick peck at your hand, increasing his pace as he twitches inside you. Sukuna is thrown off rhythm by the way you grip down on his dick harder, his breath stuttering as a result. You wrap your fingers around him as your second orgasm that night crashes down onto you in waves, his cock on the brink of being spent from how you’re milking him.

He pounds deep and slow into you, relishing in the warmth of your cunt that he’s losing his mind, basically in the same state as you are now. You’re panting and sweating, cursing at each thrust, and he stills for a moment, pulling out so fast that you wince at the emptiness. Sukuna pumps his dick with his free hand and shoots his load onto your back, his moans guttural and hoarse. You grimace at the warm cum now coating your back because there’s no way you’re using your dress to wipe that away.

Sukuna chuckles at your silence, probably noting in the way you frown at him. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he runs a hand through his hair, his cock growing hard despite releasing a huge load. “Next time, I’ll cum in your mouth. I want to see you swallow me like a good girl.”

“Next time?”

You think you’re so sly by scoffing at him, but Sukuna isn’t stupid. He sees the way you light up at his implications, and he walks closer to you, a hand wrapped around your throat before you pull you flush against his chest. You gasp at the lack of air, blindly patting behind you, but your hand only grazes at his cock, which twitches excitedly at the contact.

“Yeah, next time,” he affirms with a low growl, licking from your jaw down to your neck. It’s so hot, he’s so hot, and you’ve never felt this sexy in your life that you soon become on par with him, pussy clenching around nothing. “I’m not done with you yet. You’re not leaving unless I’ve changed your mind,” he teases the base of your throat to squeeze it tighter, the swift movement of him filling you once more escalating to a tenfold. Your struggle to breathe causes you to clamp down on him hard and Sukuna’s chuckles falter into a quick inhale that’s so satisfying to witness. “What do you think? Still need more demonstrations?”

“Yes,” you choke out. Sukuna’s victorious and award-winning smile is hidden at the sweaty column of your neck where he leaves little kisses in its wake, ones that soon turn into something of a harsh bite. “Yes, please, show me more. Need you, need you so bad, you fuck me better than he does.”

Sukuna does more than show you that night. He makes you feel a thousand more nerves set on fire until you’re nothing but a moaning mess. After all, what better way to change someone’s mind than to mess with it on the inside?

In the end, when it comes down to it, your lies were way too sweet – and he was too addicted to make you stop.

#megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi x reader smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader smut #sukuna smut #ryoumen sukuna x reader #ryoumen sukuna x reader smut #fushiguro megumi smut #fushiguro megumi x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #sukuna x reader imagines #megumi x reader imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #ryoumen sukuna smut

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zzztobi · 2 years

Note

i dunno if ur reqs are open if they arent ignore this!!

but if they are, do you have any headcannons for komori? hes my fav 😫 they can b anything lol thank uu

a/n: my reqs are always open!! <3 tysm for this! since you didn't specify the gender i stuck with this, hope it's okay.

pairing!: komori x afab!reader

warnings!: a bit of spanking :p, clit play, kind of bondage? idk just a little of jealous komori <3

awww my sweet, cute and kind komori!! never thought about writing for him but here we go!

okay, first of all we all know that his soul is as pure as one of an angel. he's just too good, so sweet and kind to everyone. i don't think he would ever hurt a fly honestly!

next to his cousin, he's like the personification of the sun, with a smile so bright that could blind eyes and lighten anyone's mood. but, like everything in life, there can't be light without a bit of dark, right?

you, out of all the people that surround him, know it the best, especially when it's just the two of you together, alone. his charming smile and the creases around his eyes turn into a heart-stopping smirk and half lidded eyes.

his expression is so dark and serious that he doesn't even look like the komori you knew, or thought you did. sex with him has always been pretty vanilla honestly, what would you expect of him anyway? but that's something that changed today, when one of his cousin's friends, atsumu miya, got a little closer to you than necessary:

“you enjoyed the attention, didn't you? having miya flirting and telling jokes to you. laughing and giggling like a silly teenager.” komori said, looking down at you. your body was splayed on top of his thighs, your wrists locked in a tight grip with his belt on your back and the lower part of your body completely naked and exposed.

you shook your head, “no 'mori, i just talked with him and your cousin” komori landed a loud smack on one of your ass cheeks, leaving a red print and a tingling sensation. “what did i tell you about lying, baby?” he tsked.

his right palm soothed the burning skin, and slowly traced two of his fingers on the crease where your butt and thigh met. you shivered under his touch, goosebumps appearing on your skin. “i'm sorry 'mori. ” you whimpered.

“if all you wanted was attention, you could've come to me. all you had to do was ask” another hard slap. you tried to wriggle your way out but with your wrists trapped and his firm hold, you could not scape.

and what komori said was true, all you had to do was ask. for him, there was nothing impossible to do or get in this world if it was bond to make you smile. he would bring you the moon and the stars if you asked.

his fingers moved dangerously to your core, where wet folds were waiting for him. “fuck baby, you're soaked” he purred. komori touched your pussy teasingly, evading your throbbing clit. his fingers caressed every fold and crease, teased your hole that clenched around nothing pathetically.

“ 'toya please, touch me” komori hummed in response, and obediently started to draw steady circles on your clit. “see? all you had to do was tell me sweetheart. you know i'll give you the world”

your legs trembled when he fastened his pace, watching how wet you were and fascinated by the way your desperate hole clenched. it didn't take you too long to cum, not with all his previous teasing and the steady pressure he had on your clit.

“that's it, that's it. you're such a good girl, hmm? my good little girl.” his fingers didn't stop even after your orgasm, prolonging it as much as he could.

this was a new façade of your boyfriend that you didn't know about but were glad that you did now. after all, komori is a intense lover, not at all possessive or jealous, but a passionate one nevertheless.

#smut #haikyuu smut #hq smut #motoya komori #komori smut #motoya smut #[📁 andrea writes]#haikyu smut

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sunsents · 3 years

Text

Empty - F.W (1/2)

Gah daym this was a JOURNEY to write. I swore to myself to never write angst because, well I suck at it. But here we are, I swear this has a good ending because my heart can't bear that. I could've written this much better, so I promise to bring my A GAME for chapter 2. Enjoy, also Lee in this is a hate crime. This is very story telling-esk so I hope it flows well.

I wouldn't have written this chapter without the help of my good friend @mochiixjimin she helped me edit and spice up this whole thing so thank you so much to her! She's an amazing writer, go check out her work and show her some big love right now or else!! her wattpad

Chapter 1 out of 2 (Backstory)

Summary —> Life has always been a cruel joke to you, yet you simply play along. Overshadowed by Eva Burke your whole life, watching from the sidelines while everyone flooded each other with love, it would always feel like a joke.

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

Word count: 6.1k

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST (with a fluffy ending in the second part) / One mature scene (18+) and then it's angst again <3 / Some slander / Offensive language

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

You were a bright child.

Beaming bright enough to keep a tight lipped smile during flu-shots, and enough to put on a happy façade when your dad threw away the drawing you had done of your family dog, rather than hang it up on the fridge.

Children have foolish dreams, and that was yours. Your friends in preschool boasted about their pictures being hung like trophies on fridges, with decorative magnets and even bigger pink bow ties.

The fridge in the Y/L/N manor was empty. Always empty, just how Ms. Y/L/N liked it. Empty marble floors with empty rug designs, and empty rooms with even emptier people living in it. They were both empty people. Hollow and void of any emotion, at least towards you.

You were different though. You were filled to the brim with ambition and hope and so many positive emotions that your parents never seemed to reflect on you. You were like those Disney princesses. The princesses always had hope, and when you have hope good things happen.

Right?

Your dad never meant to give you false hope. He just wished you’d keep your mouth shut as he worked until late hours. Using big words and having big aspirations, you shouldn’t have.

Mr and Mrs Y/L/N weren't bad people per say, just busy. They didn't know how to raise a child, this was obvious, because the purpose of even having a child was to fix their marriage. But a temporary fix wouldn't do it, it never did. There was always that hole on the roof, leaking rain of despair into their falsely built home that no bucket big enough could hold back. Because it always found a way to overflow.

They didn't know how to show their love, so they did it with money, clothes, toys and crayons that you would later use to draw pictures of your family, only to have them end up in the dumpster once again.

They spoiled you rotten, bought you gifts you never even dreamed of asking. You just shut up and enjoyed it, what else could you do? Whine and demand attention? Risk losing their favor? There was no favor to lose.

You got yourself a fat A plus on your third grade math test. Star stickers on your chest, you entered through the glass double doors of your house with a crooked smile - two front teeth missing of course - making your joy all the more endearing. Your backpack strapped tightly over your narrow shoulders, hanging low with all the crammed books you pushed before leaving school because you were just so excited to show your parents.

You received a big sloppy kiss from your Nanny, who practically was like a second mom to you, and dashed right into your fathers office to show him your new accomplishment.

"Good job, I'm proud of you."

You froze. You found a way to actually get their attention. The attention you so craved, the recognition you would die for. This was revolutionary. Basically a new era for you.

Nanny made you a star shaped cake that night, and sat with you while gently stroking your hair and listening to you blabber about how easy the math questions were. It felt warm, motherly love. Even if it was false, it would never compare to the love of your own mother, a love you would never get.

You spent all your night studying, your eyes burning under the harsh light of your lamp in the early mornings and your pencil, ebbing away over sheets and sheets of blank paper. Writing away your little hands off until they ached, just to snatch another A and get a good job.

This was good, it worked out very well. You became that student who looked forward to class, just to get a good grade and have the validation of your parents. The sight of your father’s lips quirk up even in the slightest, and how your mother’s eyes shone briefly in appreciation of your hard work, even if it was for a quick second, it was worth it.

Until the new neighbors moved in.

Mr. Burke was a round, cheerful man with an even rounder belly, and a big fat pipe that always hung on his lips. Mrs Burke looked and acted like those fairy godmothers you adored. You couldn’t believe such people existed. Mr Y/L/N invited them over for dinner, for courtesy. He was not happy about said courtesy.

He ended up liking the couple, they had a little daughter called Eva, who was small and adorable with round red cheeks and big doe eyes. Not only Mr and Mrs Burke, but the Y/L/N’s adored Eva as well. She was happy, always smiling, and her teeth weren't nearly as crooked as yours, not to mention she had pretty long hair like a princess.

You liked her a lot, took her to pick flowers, showed her the drawings you had prepared for the empty fridge; in case Mr Y/L/N ever had a change of heart and hung them up, you had been trying for three years and weren't giving up any sooner.

Eva was nice, kind enough to share her M&M's and very used to compliments unlike you. She seemed to get a lot from her parents and yours. The adults were so kind to her, always smothering her with love and kisses. You were happy for Eva, happy that Eva somehow managed to gain the favor of your parents before you did.

Little girls tended to be jealous, you weren’t. You were just glad to have a friend so cool, she didn't blush and stutter under praise and apparently her drawings were pretty enough to go on a fridge.

It was a Thursday afternoon when your mom smiled at you for the first time since your last exam grade. "Look, Eva drew us a picture, isn't it pretty?"

The crayola stash under your bed was no longer needed, they appeared clumsily dumped in the neighborhood trash the next day, most of them stomped under the pressure of your little sneakers. And the bundle of drawings you hid under your pillow, wishing on fairy godmother that one day they would be hung up too, were ripped; clearly a struggle given. You had paper cuts on your hands, and your Nanny thankfully applied ointment before Ms and Mr Y/L/N noticed, or rather, stopped to care.

Though you knew that even if you paraded herself with bloody fingers dripping to your elbows, they wouldn't care.

Nanny did, she was there. There when you were haunted with nightmares when the moon was particularly dark, cooing at you and letting you sleep next to her in that small bed of hers. There when you tripped and fell, small scratch resulting in a screaming tantrum. She was gentle, sweet, paid well.

You decided to go and pick flowers with Eva, and make a pretty flower crown for yourself, months after your drawing incident. Of course, you didn't have such silly dreams anymore. You didn’t wish to have your pictures hung, to have your mother wear the flower crowns you made and frankly you didn’t care for the sight of the sparkle in your parents eyes. Nanny’s was enough.

Eva agreed, dressed in a pink tutu Mrs Y/L/N gifted. You didn't comment, though deep down you gazed at the skirt in sparkling envy. Your mother never bothered to get you such pretty things. The two of you gathered saturated petals and nice ribbons while giggling amongst yourselves. Until, you accidentally caused Eva’s flowers to levitate.

Eva ran home, crying and calling you a witch. Mr and Mrs Y/L/N’s dirty looks made her feel shameful, and even dirtier when a letter addressed to her was dropped by a pretty owl you insisted on petting. It was from a school called Hogwarts, in the faraway land of London, and it seemed, not only you but Eva got the same letter the next day.

Though the Y/L/N’s and Burke’s were proud of Eva’s letter. They weren’t with yours.

— — — —

The ride to Hogwarts was interesting to say the least. You had so many questions unanswered, were you a fairy godmother too? Was that your destiny? Was that the reason you never got any attention, because you were destined to give instead of receive?

Eva was cheerful as always, making fast friends in newly bought uniforms and holding a pretty, long and thin wand, with designs flowing across the premise. Your wand was...functional. You were sad you couldn't choose, and that the wand chose the owner. It didn't make sense, what if you didn't want this wand? What if you wanted something charming like Eva’s? It should have been mutual.

It was while trying to find your way to the bathroom that you met the Weasley twins. Quite handsome, a year older and absolute fucktards. A word you learned from the two. Though you always found yourself laughing more at Fred’s jokes, you liked them both equally.

“Hey George! Look.” Fred had exclaimed, clinging onto his brothers shoulder and dragging him across. “Who's that girl?”

You introduced yourself, happy façade on, gentle words slipping out of your mouth like nectar. They had to like you, you told yourself. Just this once, more than Eva.

When sorted into Gryffindor, Eva, you and the twins became inseparable. Your group grew in second year, when Katie, Lee and Alicia Spinnet joined the bunch. You would make fun of the ghastly Potions Professor Snape, and imitate Dumbledore in the hallways to mess with the older students.

You loved your time at Hogwarts, and the adventures that came every year. Especially when Harry Potter joined.

“Hey Fred.”

Fred, who was fiddling with his bracelet you had bought him hummed in response, not bothering to look up.

You sighed, “Do you think the flowers can feel it when we pluck them?”

Fred turned at that, his bracelet was now tightly secure after his struggles. “I hope not.” he smiled, a faraway look on his face whenever he gazed at you. “You know, some people like pain.” he winked.

You merely looked at him confused, clearly way too young for...whatever that is.

He started laughing loudly, slapping his knee and causing you to scoff and slap him on the shoulder.

Third year was when it bloomed. The slight girly attention you gave Fred grew. Fred was...Fred. A handsome ginger, beater for their house's Quidditch team, always charming and charismatic that somehow oozed out of him whenever he did anything really. It was not unusual, every girl in school had a crush on him. That wasn't the case, Fred was one of your best friends, and you refused to entertain the idea of a possible...relationship.

Yet sometimes, you'd find yourself thinking about hugging and kissing Fred like you’d seen couples in your favorite movies did and you’d fall asleep with reddened cheeks and a boy with even redder hair in your mind.

But feelings couldn’t be controlled, nor easily hidden. Eva found out in your fourth year after hearing you mumble his name in your dreams. Fred Weasley was getting more handsome as years passed, and you found it hard to contain your feelings. You were crushing, hard.

Eva was...Eva about it. Happy, but nothing changed. She didn't tease like George did when he found out, nor did she act any differently towards Fred.

“Hey ____!” Fred had sat next to you, shaking the entire couch because he grew that tall during summer. “Got a new girl after me.” he looked at you, almost expectantly, as if you wouldn’t react the way you always reacted.

“That’s great Fred.” you smiled, gulping whatever lump that was forming in your throat and struggling to come out as vulgar words you wished to yell.

“Yeah,” Fred sighed, “It’s...great.”

Fred Weasley was a ladies man, and he wasn't afraid to show it. It was okay, because you were happy enough to be one of his closest, and that was enough. He often boasted about getting girls, and how successful his jokes were, and you always loved snapping back to him cockily, even more cockily than him. Playful banter was easy, comforting between them and when he turned away you would love to shyly entertain the idea of being one of those girl’s Fred talked about.

Fifth year, you had a sudden growth spurt. That was also the year where you discovered Cosmopolitan, Vogue and of course Witch Weekly. Hair no longer in a ponytail, legs shaved and smooth, short skirts with no nylons, you were a new person. After getting your period in third year, your spurt came late, but sudden. Way too sudden in the time of three months. It was hard to handle the changes occurring to your body. It was all too much that you had to become a lady and the fact that you didn’t have your mother to help was a pain you hid deep within.

It was as if whichever god above decided to squeeze your entire life into a summer and call it a day, because it was simply too busy. How ironic. No one saw your growth except old Nanny Gladys. Not Eva, nor her parents considering they went on a getaway and the Burke's, who had gone to Brazil.

But you were over that, you discovered the great telephone, and the great Hermione Granger, package deal with Ginny Weasley. You guys would talk on the phone for hours upon hours, Ginny obscuring your personality and Hermione altering your view on your parents. And Hermione was right, they were assholes. You didn't give a flying fuck about empty praises anymore.

You had become almost too tall for your older clothes, and your breasts were way too big to fit in the training bra you bought not even a month ago. Your hips, now wide and swaying as you walk became graceful, were decorated with long gem bracelets.

You cursed like a sailor that summer, ran around fields with family - your family being your dog, Jambo - bare feet. You stomped on flowers you used to pick as a little girl, stomping on those silly fairytale dreams you used to nurse, and never felt freer. For the first time ever you felt that maybe being empty could be more freeing than having false hope weighing you down.

Returning to Hogwarts was a big deal to students. Who changed, who glowed up after what happened last year - nothing, it was all childish drama.

Before your parents could even see your new self, your escapade to the Granger household was successful. The Y/L/N's didn't care, nor did they write. You knew it should’ve hurt, but frankly, you didn’t think having the pain in your chest was worth it. Hermione was awestruck, of course, after laying her sights on you for the first time since May and insisted on walking into the Entrance Hall, arm in arm with her and Ginny to show you off like some sort of revelation.

It was a revelation all right, at least to the boys, and some girls. It seemed no one saw you as a girl before. George oogled, and Lee was so shocked to find out that you were actually a girl with a pretty figure and an even prettier smile that he stopped clapping you on the back like he always did. Not a girl, you have become a woman. It was far too sudden, new uniforms and a whole new wardrobe had to be bought.

"____? You were a girl?" Fred joked, ruffling your hair like nothing changed between you. And that's when you realized, no slutty skirt, how much pushup your bra, or no matter how pretty your hair looked, Fred would always see you as ____, the girl with crooked front teeth and who once ate a worm in second year. Your teeth weren't crooked at all anymore - thanks to a few years of braces - and finally clear of uncomfortable metals but you felt as if Fred would always see the ghost of them on your pearly whites when you smiled.

He had this view of you that blinded him, caused him to treat you as he treated Ginny while he flirted and played footsie with other girls, including Eva.

That did not stop Eva from giving you false hope, and you took the bait, naive like always. Hope, that's what ruined it all. "You're beautiful now, of course you have a chance!" she said, rubbing your shoulder reassuringly, as if she had warmth to begin with.

It was all false, yet you still believed. You always had. Like a fool.

Ginny didn't like Eva, and maybe that's why you gravitated towards her. She was the first person who had ever met Eva that wasn't charmed by her kind smile and attractive words. Eva was...displeased. She grew up having the attention of everyone around, so when Ginny Weasley told her straight to her face that she wasn't shit, Eva seethed. The attention of Ginny changed nothing though, because Eva was the main character. Everyone - except Ginny, and secretly Hermione (though she would never say it) - loved her, they followed her around like puppies and praised her on her wonky wand work.

The upcoming Yule Ball brought great upswing to Hogwarts.

You were far too busy with her classes to take interest in the tournament - even though the dragon race was the gnarliest sight you had ever seen. Your goal was set, become a badass Auror and move out as soon as possible, so you didn't have to face your parents (except Holidays, yuck.)

But the Yule Ball was your chance. A chance with Fred Weasley.

You could ask to go as friends and maybe, just maybe a little hope and the night would end much more romantic than you had anticipated.

Plucking up courage was the hardest part, you practiced with your bathroom mirror so long that Ginny had to blast through the door and drag you out of her dormitory.

Fred Weasley agreed, why wouldn't he? You, his closest friend, asking to go as a group and drink all night while gossiping? It was a win win. At least that's what you told herself.

That was a lie, it wasn't a win win.

You gave it your all getting ready, dress silk, makeup and expensive shoes. You took a long shower, scrubbing and shaving yourself to a smooth gliding porcelain, only for it all to be washed down with reddened eyes and a boy with even redder hair.

Fred greeted you the same, danced the same, and you chatted the same; you were reminded again, for the second time, that you stood no chance.

Fred told you that he was going to get drinks, a quick trip to the booth and mumbled I'll be back in a second. He was not back in a second. Several minutes passed, and your worries caused your feet to follow after Fred's footsteps.

You ran, trying to find him in the empty corridors of Hogwarts, tears welling in your eyes because he wouldn't. He wasn't that cruel, life wasn't that cruel.

But it was, and in a distant empty classroom you saw Fred Weasley, on his knees and between Eva's legs, groaning and praising her like a starved man. Worshipping her like everyone else had, burying himself in her and completely forgetting the drink he’d bring back in just a second. He’d left you thirsty and alone in the Great Hall and left you to drink from a cup he hadn’t known to be forbidden. Yet Eva did.

Eva's perfect dainty hands tangled in his ginger hair, thighs clamping shut while her high pitched moans flooded your mind and echoed around your head. They were so loud that she couldn’t even hear the loud echoes of your footsteps and the woeful cries that left your lips as you ran. It wouldn’t be the first time she had ignored your pain for her own selfish reasons.

Your heart shattered, and suddenly you were six again, watching your parents praise Eva, hang her drawing on the fridge. A soft breeze tickling your bare toes, dangling from the small cushioned seat you sat on while you watched Eva braid Mrs Y/L/N’s hair. Emotionless, silent, not asking for anything, knowing that you won't receive in return. Eva's small hands carefully placed the flower crown on Mrs Y/L/N’s pool of hair, and she smiled, heart warming and hopeful. Suddenly you remembered the feel of your own hands tangling in between your locks as you stood on your tiptoes, trying to imitate your mothers braid on yourself in the mirror you couldn't reach. You pretended, only for a moment before it twisted into knots.

What a cruel joke, you thought as you watched Eva receive the world from Fred, from your parents, from your friends and from every damn person you had met.

You cried on a big set of stairs that night, your wails echoing as you asked whoever, whatever what you had done. What you had done to deserve such treatment from the people around you. It was rather cliche - and maybe a bit too dramatic. It was an uncomfortable seat of course, and your body, as well as your heart, ached. Pain, misery, false hope and enough hair spray to melt the ozone.

The princesses always cried on big sets of stairs, uncomfortable stone floors causing them to shiver while they hid away their beautifully animated faces in their perfect hands. This was different, there was no fairy godmother to fix your makeup and clone a gentlemanly Fred Weasley, a perfect prince. You knew, because you cried, and prayed and cried and prayed until your throat was sore. There was no fairy godmother, it was all a lie. There was no happy ending. There would be none.

No one came to find you that night either, and you had to drag yourself back to the Gryffindor common room, feet bare, mascara, blush - anything else you put on in hopes of being able to become like Eva even only for one night - practically nonexistent from the way your tears washed them away.

You didn't sleep that night, and your head was unusually clear, pounding, but clear. You laid awake, eyes blood-shot and stinging while your dress shuffled uncomfortably between your sheets. You were too tired to change, and your dress was far too pretty to be worn so short.

Ginny's words replayed over and over again. "They're not worth it." her voice was so clear, and true. Mr and Mrs Burke weren't worth it. Your parents weren't worth it. Fred Weasley wasn't worth it. Eva wasn't worth it. The midnight chirping of bugs invited themselves in from your open window, and blue moonlight streaks beaming down in lines from the tulle curtain flowed with breeze, it was calming.

You felt calm, for the first time in sixteen years. You felt calm.

Fred and Eva started dating that week. Everyone acted like they expected it, and you realized just how blind you had been. Eva Burke and Fred Weasley, golden couple of Hogwarts.

You watched them, emotionless, as they embraced with love and so much passion that you felt embarrassed. Embarrassed at how you’d blushed and squeal over Fred in front of Eva and George and anyone who had found out because now you knew. Now you knew that their amused smiles were probably pitying grimaces because they knew that you two were never meant to be. It was always Fred and Eva.

Fred was an amazing boyfriend, making sure Eva was taken care of, lovingly staring at her whenever and wherever, arm looped around her waist at all times; you realized they were truly not worth it.

"You disgust me."

You didn't mean the words to escape so carelessly, but when you said them, you realized you didn't want to take them back. The growing pit in your stomach felt weightless. "Excuse me?" said Fred, stopping his nibbling on Eva's neck, who was just as shocked. You scoffed, Eva already had enough purple bruises to parade around so why did Fred have the need to add more?

"You heard me right," George, Lee, Ron, Harry, Katie and whoever sitting in their circle stared at you, wide-eyed, Ginny and Hermione, however, were grinning devilishly. Kind ____, wouldn't hurt a fly, quiet at times and didn't know how to stand up for herself. It was shocking, but you were done pretending. You didn't want to be like that anymore, you wanted to say whatever came to mind and not worry about the consequences. "You guys disgust me, I know I should be supportive but you don't match, at all."

You turned to George. "And you, no you can't talk about Katie like that." George went pink. "You're disgusting for sleeping around carelessly and telling girls you'd write, stop giving people false hope. Grow up. You’re nearly an adult and you can’t even treat a girl right."

"And you Lee," Lee went quiet. "What gives you the right to make fun of me like that. I'll wear whatever the fuck I want, just because you don't have the courage to wear a headband. If you can talk about my breasts, I'll talk about your shrimp."

"Ron, you take advantage of Hermione then lead her on. Open your eyes, asshole."

"Harry, you're not the main character. You're not always going to be the center of attention, nor do you have the right to yell at your friends."

"Alicia, god you're so stupid. I'm sorry, you're great but such an airhead. No, you can't ride a Thestral if you can't see them, and stop eating quill ink they're bad for you."

You stood up, grinning proudly, heart loud in your chest you feared someone might hear. "Frankly, I don't wanna be friends anymore. I'm done with this façade, except you two, 'Gin, Hermione. The rest of you are just so fake." she gestured to them. "Boys," she nodded again. "Don't talk to me anymore, and Lee, give me back the money, think it's about time don't you think? I've been paying for you since third year."

And with that, you left. You left Three Broomsticks, grin wide and chest heaving. Hermione and Ginny ran behind, whooping and cheering you on as they laughed.

The news of your outburst spread fast like wildfire caught in wind. That week was bliss, you no longer had to watch Fred and Eva, nor did you have to act sweet to anyone. You didn't have to laugh along Lee's sexist jokes and look away to wince, it was pure bliss. You realized that the feeling of being free didn’t have to be momentary.

Pansy Parkinson was surprisingly a good friend, she didn't have the same fakeness to her, the one Eva had where her smile was too kind. She spoke her mind, though every Slytherin did, and you liked that. Ginny wasn't happy with your new found friends, but she couldn't separate you. You made your own decisions from now on. It was refreshing.

You told your new friends everything, eager to get it off your chest and breathe, and they listened. For the first time, someone listened. You didn't have to get good grades, nor did you have to act like a sweet angel.

You teared up the first time Pansy said; "It's not your fault,". You knew it wasn't your fault, but hearing someone else say it with such genuine eyes made you believe. Actually believe.

It started off with you watching from the sidelines as Draco and Blaise pranked, insulted and shamed whatever your old friend group did. It wasn't unusual for Draco to act this way, but he got especially irritated after hearing what you told them. Blaise, someone usually quiet, had stepped up and decided to somehow release the pent up anger he had for the Gryffindor students.

The year ended, and you had started to sneak in an insult or two towards Fred and Eva. It felt nice, like finally, step by step you were clearing your years of hidden jealousy. But, there was no one to tell you that this simply wasn't the right way.

That summer, you stayed at the Burrow. Ginny had invited you and you were quick to say yes; obviously a fact forgotten. Fred, George and whoever you had insulted last year stayed in the same house. You simply didn't want to go home, and if this meant seeing Fred Weasley then you had to endure it.

Molly Weasley was the sweetest person you could ever meet, and it was genuine. It felt genuine, you feared your teeth might rot if the woman got another word in. Molly greeted you as if you were her own daughter she hadn't seen in years. You felt valued, seen.

Until Eva was there, Fred invited her. You had to watch the only person you were able to love, introduce the only person he was able to love to his mother. It wasn't you. It would never be you.

And you realized, even after everything, Eva had once again found a way to be more loved than you.

The grin Molly broke out was nothing short of beautiful, and you couldn't help but smile as well. The smile wasn't directed towards you of course, and you sat on that small kitchen chair, celebrating a relationship that caused your ruin.

Eva didn't care that your friendship was over, nothing budged in her life. She still got the same attention, still received the same love from Fred. The same affection, the same attention and the same everything. Or so it seemed.

Though unlike Eva, Fred merely watched you with sad eyes.

You stayed clear of the couple and the rest. You hung out with Ginny and Hermione only, ignoring the dirty looks Ron and Harry gave you. The secret, whispered insults Eva threw your way. George didn't say anything, but he didn't object either. This was enough to show how he felt. At this point you really didn't care. Why would you, when they didn’t either?

You held your head high just like Ginny and Hermione told you to, and you spoke in a loud and clear tone whenever asked something. Eva didn't, she stuttered when you spoke to her directly. Her words scrambled against each other when she tried to voice her insults in louder statements than a whisper. For the first time, you felt relief. You felt intimidating, protected by the barriers you had built around yourself.

Longest day of summer hit, and it boiled. Tanning became a distant dream, you would bake in this weather, and you were thankful to the big AC box you had brought from home. You couldn't sleep that night, sweat beads falling down your forehead that was already covered in a thin sheen. You had decided to get a cold glass of water, not sure how you ended up face to face with Fred Weasley. His wand tip shone with blue light, and his freckles were much darker because of the sun. It seemed the sun decided to be cruel to Fred Weasley back and wash Fred over with it's deathly heat. He was sunburnt, this was an understatement. He was burnt.

You couldn't help but start laughing when you met, ignoring the proximity, ignoring the sleeping house, dead silent and a big leap from the lively Burrow, ignoring Fred's soft breaths he let out every other second. You couldn't live off on false hope anymore.

Suddenly it wasn't so funny anymore, and your face quickly fell. You took a big step back and inhaled, ready to ignore him like you had been doing for the past year. But Fred Weasley was a persistent man, and he gripped your arm and looked at you with determined, doe-like eyes. "Tell me what I did wrong." he said, adamant on fixing this, whatever this was. You both didn't know.

You stood silent.

"Please flower,"

"Don't call me that." you said, stern and gaze sharp. Fred didn't react, he kept on insisting.

"Please, tell me how to fix this. I can fix it," he pleaded, a plethora of empty promises fell out of his lips like nothing. He lied like it was nothing, he was oblivious to everything he and everyone around them had put you through. It was infuriating.

You didn't say anything. You knew he would not fix anything but maybe staying silent would give him the false hope that spinned mockingly in your head for the past eighteen years.

"I'm sorry, just please. I can fix this, I promise, don't be like that." empty tears fell down from his eyes. He looked empty, tired. They lacked the charm they usually shined with and you wondered if it was only you that caused such dullness. Eye bags prominent that you never noticed before. It all felt like a lie, a cruel joke.

Fred Weasley was simply a cruel joke. His presence could only be compared to a shot of whiskey, especially when you down it like how Hagrid nurses a Firewhiskey filled pint glass. You never know how it will hit you. But in the end, you'd always find yourself curled next to the toilet, crying your eyes out because your headache was simply too much.

He was sobbing now, hanging onto your waist like you would simply vanish and you let him. The grip he had on was like steel vice - almost concerning - but you didn't touch him, didn't say anything. You just let him be, like he did to you. Allowed him to hopelessly hang off you before you would eventually leave him alone, like he did to you. "Where did I go wrong? How could we end up like this? What went wrong?"

‘You’, but your voice couldn’t be found.

Questions were useless when the answer was already right in front of his eyes. You didn’t let a single tear fall, you wouldn't forgive yourself if you cried in front of him.

You blinked, and that night was over. Summer continued on like nothing happened, like it didn't leave you heart broken and in such shame yet again. You continued on ignoring Fred as he looked at you with sorrowful eyes. Looked at you more, with more than he did his own girlfriend.

You blinked and the school year started again with another terror looming around the corner. There was simply no need to keep up anymore, because school was easy. You attended classes, got good grades, a few scar here and there from Umbridge's torture chamber, a woman who stood at a whopping five foot three yet still teriffied an entire school.

You blinked and you had already become a proud member of Draco's insult the Gryffindor's club. You didn't even feel bad, being horrible to the people you hated for years felt like a breath of fresh air. You didn't go as far as physically hurting any of your old friends, but coming up with damaging insults was such fun. A lot more fun than sitting around with a fake smile.

You blinked, and you were already moving out from your childhood house. Mr and Mrs Y/L/N were unusually happy, this was a given. They would have a new empty room and make another office, like they didn't have enough already. You feared they would start getting rid of bathrooms once too into their work, and they would have to do their business in bushes or buckets. Scratch that, you didn't fear that, it would be fucking hilarious.

You blinked, and when had time passed too quickly? Where did all those empty childhood years had gone? You were already graduating, on your way to become an Auror. You had lost contact with all your old friends now, regretfully Ginny and Hermione too.

The war had hit too quickly, luckily you survived, so did your friends. Unluckily, it left you with a nasty scar right across your left brow. It looked sick, but the hit wasn't worth it. It hurt like a bitch. You could see, it was a close call but vision wasn't an issue. The trauma though, god did Bellatrix's breath smell bad.

When it was all over, you had seen Fred hugging his family tightly. It seemed the Weasley's all survived, and you gave them each tight lipped smiles while holding a bunched up rag to your head to stop the blood gushing out. This wasn't the reunion you wanted to have with Ginny, but hey, you take what you can get after a revolutionary Wizarding war you barely made out alive.

Before a franticly running Fred could reach you though, you apparated to your flat in Diagon Alley, ignoring the thrumming of your heart, and how you practiced in front of a mirror to congratulate their successful joke shop that morning.

#angst #hp angst #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley #fred weasley x y/n #weasley twins #fred weasley angst #fred weasley smut #fred weasley series #reader insert #harry potter fluff #harry potter fic #fred weasley imagine

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mello-jello · 3 years

Note

Don't we all agree that Hange loves to play pranks on Levi? I'm pretty sure the most fucked up joke she made was when she pretended to sacrifice to save humanity and being burn alive? lord, Levi was so pissed off! It tooked like 3 years to finally forgive Hange and they finally living in a small cottage in the forest. How do I know this? Cause I'm their handmaid.

omg anon, how does one get that job? I will do it for free! I would PAY to have that job.

I realize Tumblr is collectively over the BBC Sherlock, but can you just imagine Hange with a stupid pencil drawn on moustache, trying and failing SO HARD to lighten the mood?

Maybe Hange needed to lay low? Maybe the Yeagerists has eyes on Levi, and making contact with him would have put him at risk?

oh no...

UhHHmm... hang on, I made this into a whole thing:

It’s midday and yet the sky is dark. Thick storm clouds circle above, threatening torrential downpour at any moment. The ceremony was good, all things considered. The 104th all gave short speeches about their beloved commander, which was nice. The priest was a little religious but kept the service pretty well non-secular, which is what Hange would have wanted.

Levi on the other hand, would have loved some sort of reassurance that this wasn’t the end. He would love to be able to believe in a heaven, where Hange is spending their time in complete bliss and will be there when it’s his time. He wants to believe there is any sort of omnipotent being in control of everything. He wishes he was capable of that kind of thinking.

And yet.

Everyone has left by now, and Levi’s not sure how he’d been standing there, staring at the freshly laid soil below a headstone. Fighting back tears, he speaks aloud, a last ditch effort to communicate with God or whatever. How does he know for sure Hange’s not listening anyway?

"Hange,” his voice catches as he had been clenching his jaw all day.

“I… I was so alone and I owe you so much. But please, there's just one more thing... one more thing, one more miracle, Hange, for me? Don't. Be. Dead. Would you do that, just for me? Just stop it. Stop this..."

Levi felt silly. Talking out loud to the dead never appealed to him before, why would he start now? He dropped the bouquet of flowers he was gripping too tightly onto the grave and turned to leave, just as the rain started to pour.

---

Onyankopon, Gabi, and Falco can sense Levi’s depression. It stems from more than the loss of Hange, it comes from everything Levi has ever lost in his entire life. There is no need for Levi to fight anymore. No more distractions. The lack of distractions is what makes living on so difficult.

It’s been three years since that fateful day, and the trio wanted to do something on the anniversary to take Levi’s mind off of it, even if just for an evening. Levi was bitter and cold as usual, but he knew they were just trying to help, and he did appreciate it. So reluctantly, he agreed to a movie and dinner.

He never even needed to shave before, but Levi had grown quite an impressive moustache during this time. The kids seemed to like it, they said he looked distinguished. Levi figured it would also help get attention off his scars.

Gabi and Falco were particularly excited for the movie. It was a musical comedy, of all things. Levi surprised himself by actually kind of laughing at it. He enjoyed the caramelized popcorn, too. At dinner, the 4 of them sat around a fancy table and Levi listened wholeheartedly as the other 3 discussed the movie. At one point, Gabi had shot soda out of her nose from laughing too hard, and Falco was teasing her about it.

Levi was about to interject with a snide remark, when he was suddenly interrupted by a particularly terse waiter.

“Sir, I think, you’ll find this vintage to your liking”, they said in an accent Levi had never heard before, while shoving a bottle of wine in his face. Levi was pissed, as the bottle so rudely brought up unpleasant memories.

“Tch, no.” Levi said as politely as he could muster through his teeth.

“It ’as all the qualities of the old, with some of the colour of the new,” they said, as if purposefully ignoring him. Levi was actually having a good time tonight, why did this guy have to be so pushy?

Keeping his locked forward, Levi said again, “No, thank you.”

The waiter switched sides, now on Levi’s left, which had the eye he could see with. Onyankopon gave Levi a sympathetic look as the water continued, “Like a gaze from a crowd of strangers, suddenly one is aware they are staring into ze face of an old friend.”

“No, look seriously,” Levi finally breaks and looks up, “could you just-”

Levi’s face drops. His entire body jolts impossibly rigid, as he stares with an expression of utter disbelief.

Hange. Hange was the waiter. They dipped a napkin into a glass of water, and wiped off the fake mustache from their top lip. “Interesting thing, a tuxedo. Lends distinction to friends, and anonymity to waiters,” they said in their normal voice.

“Levi?” Gabi asks, and Levi is suddenly aware that he forgot to breathe. He forgot to blink too. He feared that if he moved in any way, Hange might disappear.

He turns his head to Onyankopon, then his eyes fill with tears and he ducks his head momentarily before he stumbles clumsily to his feet, shaking the table in the process. He looks at Hange again, who then extends their arms, as if expecting Levi to hug them.

“Hange?” Oyankopon questioned, incredulously.

Levi looked down at the table, breathing heavily before locking eyes with Hange again.

“Hey, does your rub off, too?” Hange gestured to Levi’s facial hair, to which he did not find funny. His gaze was slowly turning murderous.

Falco put his hand on Levi’s arm. “What-?”

“Well, long story short,” Hange explained, a little awkwardly. “I’m not dead.”

Hange stares into Levi’s eyes as they slowly realize that this was a bad idea. They start feeling guilty. “It was a bit mean, springing it on you like that, I know. I could have given you a heart attack, probably still will. But in my defence, it was very funny. Okay, it’s not a great defence-”

“I SAW YOU!” Onyankopon broke through their rambling.

“Oh, no-

“YOU DIED!”

“I just checked, and no, no I didn’t!”

Levi made a fist and pounded the table, nearly spilling all their drinks and drawing attention to them. Hange looked around nervously, but Levi did not care, although he whispered, “three years.”

“Okay, Levi, I’m suddenly realising I probably owe you some sort of an apology,”

Levi took another, deliberately deep breath and asked, “how?”

“Just… okay, one question! Let me ask one question,” Hange asked. They pointed to Levi’s moustache, “Are you really going to keep that?” They blurted out in laughter for all of 2 seconds before Levi launched at them. They both crashed to the floor, Levi on top of Hange, trying to throttle them.

#levihan #levihan drabble #i might have more 👀#i wrote this on break on a night shift so don't look at it too long okay #this is a wee bit angstier than i thought

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archived-and-moving · 2 years

Note

Hey Tobi!

I know life is getting in the way rn so don't worry if it takes a little while to get around to this. I am in no rush and I completely understand. Life is very much getting in the way of my tumblr time too.

That being said, I'm having thoughts and one (1) maybe-idea right now and I think you'll be able to provide some insight.

So I'm thinking of ~maybe~ doing like a kotlc group project where we all (by we i mean anyone who wants to participate) pick a historical person to research and put it into the form of an xavier riddle episode because i was watching that like two days ago and i thought it might be fun. I might also add an art thing but idk. Nothing's set in stone yet. I just wanted to come ask for your advice because you have experience in this kinda thing. Or at least close to this kinda thing.

For your ship weeks, did you find it easier to have a separate blog or just post it to your main? And have you found how long a reasonable amount of time would be for releasing things like prompts/directions? (Will you maybe make me a playlist if this ends up happening? /j unless you want to) Do you have any other pro tips I don't know enough to ask for? Preposition. Aergh. That seems like a good way to end this.

Hey Squish!! Thankfully I have off everything today, so I actually get four hours of rest! Thank goodness!!

Your idea sounds super cool also. I'm personally a history nerd, so that honestly sounds so awesome! Though I will admit, I don't know too much about the format of a Xavier Riddle episode, however after looking it up, it sounds like something I might enjoy. I'll add that to my to-do list of things to listen to in the background of drawing.

And I can't believe you're coming to me for advice!! Like yes I've done a little bit of stuff but wow!!! Anyway, I am definitely shocked, but please note that: I have no idea what on earth I'm doing. I know what works best for me and I usually just listen to my collaborators if I have them. So yes!!! Take all of this with a grain of salt.

Is it easier to have a separate blog or just post it to your main?

This honestly depends on the person and the project, and you kind of have to ask yourself a couple questions. How big is the project? How would I feel more organized? And how many people do I want to have participate who need to see it?

For example, when I hosted Sophiana Week with Wren, ae wanted a separate account to keep everything more neat and make it easier to arrange between the two of us. However, Shai and I just did it on our split main accounts.

Also, I have a separate account for my Ten Years of Keeper project, simply because I'm working with 11 people on events and such. So, it quite honestly just depends on how you feel.

Have you found a reasonable amount of time for releasing things like prompts/directions?

Please please please don't pull a me and give everyone ten days. Like again it really depends how big you want the project to be but minimum is probably 2-3 weeks. I have ship weeks, and I've found that for me around a month is good, but if you have something more complicated like research I'd shoot above that.

Seriously, I'd give a good couple weeks if it's one that is complicated and needs a lot of instructions. I'm using Ten Years of Keeper as an example cause ah. That's a big boy. If you'll notice, I gave everyone a pretty lengthy heads up, and I would rather have given you guys more time.

Do you have any other pro tips I don't know enough to ask for?

If you're making a big project please know it is draining. You have to coordinate with people, make sure that your instructions are clear, and overall know how progress is going.

This one sounds really silly, but dude if you have access...make a spreadsheet. Like excel and whatever the google alternative is is there and believe me when I say that it's literally your best friend.

I'm using mine to track the progress of my coordinators. How far along in the process they're in, what they're doing, etc. It's kept me organized so far, and I've only had like one mental break down so far, so that's good!!

But yeah mainly take care of yourself bestie. Managing and organizing a project is hard work. (not ship weeks, ship weeks aren't that hard. But for things bigger than that like what you're planning, please don't overwork yourself. Drink water, get sleep, and hope that some day you can put it on your resume somehow, because it shows such essential skills.

Will you make a playlist for me?

Hell yeah dude. Gimme some vibes and one thousand percent. This was a joke but I'm serious, if you actually need a playlist hmu.

#asks #squish tag #tobi talks too much #long post #anyway. hope this helped a little bit???#again i really am just winging it

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ambertea · 3 years

Text

fatherhood

Tentoo prepares himself for the birth of his child by trying to become the perfect dad.

It was strange, being a human.

It wasn't just that he had to watch his sugar intake now, or that his hair was receding at a worrying pace. It wasn't even the extraordinary amounts of drinking and eating he had to do, the peculiarity of human existence that forced him to constantly shovel things in his mouth.

(Read on AO3)

It was a culture shock, more than anything else. He had lived among humans for years, shared hundreds of years of his life living with their habits. But it was different, somehow. It was as though he was living abroad, rather than simply taking a holiday, and he often found himself struggling to untangle their bizarre social norms.

“Are you listening to me?”

He looked up, his eyes darting around the room. He had been engrossed in the newspaper, ticking off inaccuracies or improbabilities, and drawing tiny TARDISes in each white square of the crossword puzzle.

“Yes.”

Rose looked doubtful. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course.”

“So, what do you think?”

He hurriedly scanned the room, looking for something to have an opinion on. The walls were the same colour. The curtains, too. Even the windows looked just the same as yesterday.

“Good.” He nodded forcefully. “Good. Very good.”

“Great.” She grinned, and he relaxed.

She threw herself on the sofa next to him and stroked his shoulder.

“So, when should we start trying?”

He kissed her forehead, trying to gain some precious thinking seconds.

“Uh. Tomorrow?”

She held her head in his lap, gazing up at him with some strange human emotion.

“I can’t believe we’re going to be parents.”

Oh.

He wanted to have a child. He really did. He loved kids, enjoyed their brutal honesty and vivid imaginations. He had had children before, of course he had, and although he didn't spend an awful lot of time thinking about it, he still thought of himself as a Dad.

The responsibility of being the father of Rose’s child, though, was something else.

Everything about her was perfect. She had a beautiful face and an equally magnificent soul. Hell, she had literally been a Goddess at one point. What if his silly genes were more dominant than hers, and rather than the wonderful baby that she deserved, she ended up with a child just like him?

The only solution, really, was to just become the perfect dad. So far, Netflix had told him it included a lot of DIY, and sometimes crossing his arms. He could do that. His last body had been a wonderful mechanic, and he was sure he’d folded his arms at some point in 900 years.

The drill looked a bit scary. He would have felt better using his sonic screwdriver, but it wouldn’t have looked nearly as cool. Rose was watching him, looking concerned.

“Do you have to hold it in your mouth?”

He tried to talk, and spat the drill out, exasperated.

“Yes! I need to be holding your hand too. The baby needs to feel how good of a dad I am.”

She squeezed his arm and leant into his body.

“I’m sure they’ll know either way.”

He doubted it. Probably, they would be watching perfect Simon next door, with his massive toolbox and fancy shed, wishing that their dad could be equally handy.

“What are you drilling, then?” She asked, and he looked around the garden in panic.

He hadn't thought about that bit yet. He'd been flabbergasted by the sheer amount of attachments, and then annoyed over the stupid power chord that needed at least 3 extension leads to go anywhere useful. He'd had a vague image of himself drilling a bit of wood, and Rose clapping at his brilliance. But there wasn't any wood out here, the garden empty but for a few gnomes.

One looked up at him judgmentally, and he made a mental note to kick it when Rose wasn’t around.

“Uh – I thought I would practise, for now.”

“What, like just…turn it on?”

“Yep,” he said frantically. “A test run. See how, um, spinny it is.”

Rose dropped his hand, and he turned to her, offended. She was clutching her stomach, her eyes lit with – was that fear? Happiness?

“Rose? Are you okay?”

She nodded slowly, a small, gentle smile growing. Retaking his hand, she pressed it against her stomach, and he felt his single heart jump when he felt it.

“They’re kicking,” he whispered, dropping to his knees and pressing his ear against her stomach. The baby kicked him straight in the head, and he stared in wonder.

“It’s nice to meet you too.”

Okay, so maybe the drilling thing had failed. It was no wonder, really, he was a highly intelligent part-time lord, who couldn’t be wasting his time standing around all day just pointing hand tools at walls. His baby was unlikely to be properly impressed with that, anyway, being of superior intellect themselves.

Perhaps he needed to talk to an expert. An actual parent, one that had managed to raise an impressive child.

He thought about Jackie for a second and instantly squashed the thought.

Pete wasn’t laughing at him, exactly, but he certainly had a strange little glint in his eye that the Doctor didn’t appreciate.

“You want me to teach you how to…parent?”

The Doctor groaned. This had been a stupid idea. He turned to go, but Pete quickly grabbed his shoulder.

“Sorry. I was a mess when Jacks was pregnant, so I guess this is no different.”

“It is different!” The Doctor said, offended. “It’s Rose.”

“So just be there for her. Help her with things. I’m sure the baby would…respect that.”

The Doctor stared, wide-eyed. Pete was right. The baby was going to love Rose, just like everyone else who met her, and if he could be seen helping her…

“Thanks, Pete, bye.” He yelled, legging it out of the room.

“What are you doing?”

He frowned, offended, and the wooden spoon rolled off his tongue and onto the floor. Rose eyed it, eyebrow raised.

“How are you doing today, my darling?”

“When did you start calling me that?”

“I can call you something else!” He offered desperately. “Sweetie? Sugar? Love? Babe?”

“Do not call me babe.”

“Honeybunny?”

She was looking at him as if she was slightly concerned for his health.

“I’m making dinner.” He said quickly, gesturing to the wok. She walked over, suddenly interested, and peered down with a look that he couldn't decipher.

“Malteasers?” She asked faintly. He nodded.

“And bananas. And tea, too, for the sauce. All your favourites!”

She kept her face down, shoulders shaking. Probably, he thought, stunned in the face of his great generosity.

“Thank you, Doctor.” She finally choked out between gasps, patting him fondly on the shoulder. He puffed out his chest and went to go sort out the crockery.

“I think we should start buying things.” Rose said one day. Her legs were draped over his lap, his hands massaging her feet.

He looked at her in shock. He hadn’t even thought about all the things the baby would need, being more focused on Rose and her ever-changing moods. They were going to need so much stuff, and it was all going to have to be perfect, as well, lest the baby grew unhappy with its drab surroundings.

He knocked her feet off his lap and set off into a run.

“Why,” Rose asked, her hands on her hips, her stomach peeking out under her bottom, “do we need five cribs?”

“The baby needs options!” He insisted, gesturing at the cradles circling the room. They were all in different shades of white, with tiny little mobiles hovering over them. He had made the mobiles himself, fashioning tiny little Earth, Gallifrey and TARDIS charms to hang over the crib.

He frowned, wondering if he’d done something wrong. Maybe he should have gotten some different colours—he knew humans' fixation on pinks and blues for their offspring. Perhaps he should have picked up a few more.

“You don't think the baby will like them?” He asked, feeling a bit crushed.

Rose smiled, and hugged him, her round bump pushing into his belly.

“They’ll love them.”

Rose was in labour, and he was having a heart attack.

He didn’t like only having one heart on a good day. As a Time Lord, he’d loved Rose, but he’d also loved space, and the TARDIS, and pretty much any fascinating person he met. Now having only one, it felt like his whole body was focused on just her – everything else seemed so less important, less crucial for his day-to-day survival.

What if one heart wasn't enough? What if he couldn’t love their baby properly? What if the child grew to be unloved and unloving, unable to feel the wonderfully wide spectrum of human emotion, all because he had one, stupid heart and it was already used up.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Doctor,” Rose moaned, and he hurried over to clutch at her hand.

Rose was holding her baby.

No—his baby. No, theirs.

She looked up at him, her face pink and drenched in sweat, a soft, beautiful smile stretched across her face.

“Do you want to hold her?” She whispered, rocking the pile of blankets gently, and he nodded, dumbstruck.

Carefully, the baby--his baby!-- was settled into his arms, and he gazed at her, tears trickling down his face.

“Hello,” he whispered.

She opened her eyes and blinked up at him. Her tiny, pudgy little arm stretched out to him, reaching out towards his face, and his singular heart stretched and grew.

"She's perfect." He told Rose, who nodded, looking at him with yet another expression he couldn't untangle.

He looked back down at his daughter and ran his finger over her cheek, marvelling over how soft, how precious she was.

"I'm going to look after you," he choked out. "I'm going to be the best dad on Earth. You'll see."

The baby looked up at him, eyes filled with trust, and he thought that maybe, if he tried really, really, hard, he might just be able to do it.

#my family are in town and i have 0 time so please forgive any editing errors!#tentoo is a baby who must be protected at all costs #fics

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jalapeno-princess · 4 years

Text

How Do I Get Over You?

Mark Tuan X Reader

Genre: It’s so fucking sad guys let me just tell you that

Word count: 6.5K

Summary: Hey guys! So I was driving the other day and “Driver’s License” by Olivia Rodrigo came on and at first, I didn’t understand the hype but then I kept listening to it and this imagine popped in to my mind and now I’m sad. I’m almost done with part 3 of my fuckboy series so please stay tuned and thank you all for your patience. By the way, one in a million is a fucking BOP I’m so proud of my boy :(((((((( Mark Tuan deserves the universe. Okay happy reading (or should I say have fun crying)

I got my driver's license last week Just like we always talked about 'Cause you were so excited for me To finally drive up to your house But today I drove through the suburbs Crying 'cause you weren't around

And you're probably with that blonde girl Who always made me doubt She's so much older than me She's everything I'm insecure about Yeah, today I drove through the suburbs 'Cause how could I ever love someone else?

And I know we weren't perfect but I've never felt this way for no one And I just can't imagine how you could be so okay now that I'm gone Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me 'Cause you said forever, now I drive alone past your street

“P stands for?”

“Park.”

“Good. R stands for—“

“Reverse.”

“Good. N stands for—“

“Babe. We’ve been over this about ten times in the last week. I know the controls already. I just want to drive.”

You had gotten your permit a little over two weeks ago and you were more than excited to finally get on the road. You’ve been wanting to drive since the time you were old enough to understand what driving was. Watching your parents turn the steering wheel, press on the gas, accelerate and park—it just seemed like so much fun.

All of your favorite characters in the television shows you enjoyed watching knew how to drive—or at least that’s what you assumed when you were still young. Once you hit your pre-teen years, you understood that they were just pretending to drive—that it was just “television magic” that gave the illusion of them driving a moving vehicle but that didn’t stop you from wanting to learn. Your boyfriend Mark had gotten his license when he was only sixteen years old.

Technically, it was considered an intermediate license which meant there were a lot of rules he had to follow. He wasn’t allowed to drive without someone over twenty one years old, there could only be three passengers in the car at a time and he had a curfew of 10 o’clock p.m. As much as you begged your parents to allow you to start studying for your permit back when you were sixteen, they wanted you to focus on finishing high school before taking on such a big responsibility that came with being a licensed driver.

That didn’t stop your boyfriend from taking you out against your parent’s will and teaching you everything he knew about driving. Mark was almost five years older than you. You first met the older boy when you were in the second grade and he was right about to move up to the seventh grade. He was your oldest brother’s best friend at the time; the two of them were like two peas in a pod.

Where one went, the other one followed closely behind. If one joined a sport, so did the other. They were like magnets—always needed to be together. It was like that up until their sophomore year in high school. Isn’t wasn’t as though they had bad blood between them. Sometimes friends just grow distant.

Mark joined the football team whereas your brother was more of a soccer kind of guy. Their schedules began to collide a lot and it was actually pretty sad. Everyone who knew of the two of them just assumed that they were going to be friends forever, but it was only natural for both Mark your brother to go their separate ways.

Deep down, you’ve always harbored feelings for Mark. It was inevitable; you saw him almost every single day for the last six years. Although he could be a pain in the ass sometimes; not allowing you to join him and your brother as they would play video games, taking the last cookie from the cookie jar, making fun of your drawings in order to get under your skin—there was a point where you ended up hating him because you felt as though he had it out for you. But as the years went by and the two of you grew older, he became more kind-hearted and gentle around you.

Whenever he’d come over, he’d ask you how school was going, what you were interested in, if you needed help on any of your assignments and he would even buy you some snacks before heading over to your house. It didn’t help that he became more and more handsome with age—driving you to the brink of insanity each and every time you’d have to see him. When he and your older brother nonverbally ended their friendship, you were crushed.

Sure, you felt really bad watching the two of them over the years growing such a bond that you assumed would last forever only to decide that they were too busy to spend any time together. But you felt even worse knowing that Mark was no longer going to be in your life. When you turned fourteen and moved on to high school, you decided to join the track team because your parents claimed that they wanted you to have a good high school experience.

The first week of practice was actually pretty fun—albeit a little bit strenuous and tiring, but it was enjoyable. Little did you know that following week, your coach would bring in two previous students to help assist him in bringing your team to success. If you thought Mark was extremely good looking already, you were in for quite the surprise seeing him for the first time in two years since the end of his friendship with your brother.

Time was always so good to him; in fact, he looked much better now than he did when he was sixteen. Braces, bad haircut and the pitchy voice no longer existed. His voice was much deeper now, he was grazing six feet, his cheekbones were more prominent and his features were seemingly more sharper. He was just as excited to see you as you were to see him.

Maybe you imagined it in your mind, but deep down, you couldn’t stop smiling at the thought of getting to spend time with Mark again. You didn’t think much about being around him again—he was an assistant coach. He was there solely to help you with training and you were sure he probably saw you as his childhood best friend’s silly younger sister. However, you were quick to pick up on how Mark seemed to give you most of his time and attention.

He’d give your teammates excuses as to why he couldn’t help them or why he needed to coach you the most. At first, you assumed he was just trying to be nice because the two of you somewhat had a past together, but as the days went by and your conversations went beyond track and field—you were confident that his friendliness had nothing to do with the fact that you were well acquainted with one another.

Your friendship with Mark only got more and more tight knit to the point where you found yourself hanging out with him outside of school. It didn’t take long for your friendship to develop in to something more. Something beautiful—something, indescribable.

Seeing Mark again and spending majority of your days with him only brought back your feelings tenfold—especially because you were no longer a ten year old little girl anymore crushing on her brother’s best friend from a distance. You were old enough to understand what love was—or what you assumed was love and it didn’t take a genius to know that what you felt for Mark was more than just a small crush.

Since he was so much older than you, you pushed back the thought of him reciprocating your same feelings. He was a college student. He was devastatingly handsome, intelligent, outgoing, athletic, hardworking and very kindhearted. There must have been so many girls at his campus who threw themselves at him—he was a literal Greek God.

Guys like Mark were never single and although you didn’t consider yourself close enough to know what his exact type was, so you were confused and shocked yet over the moon when he stole a quick kiss from your lips and confessed his feelings for you while the two of you were out eating ice cream. You didn’t think there was anything wrong with the age difference—Mark was practically an older brother to you and you trusted him with your entire being.

However, you decided to keep him a secret in the fear that some people wouldn’t be so accepting of your relationship. Dating Mark was a dream. For the last three years, he’s shown you nothing but so much love, affection, adoration and happiness. He taught you how to love yourself—he took his time learning every little thing about you.

Mark Tuan was the actual love of your life and you didn’t care if you were still too young to know what love was. You’ve known it since you were six years old that the older boy was the person you wanted to give your entire being to. You wanted Mark for as long as you could possibly have him for.

He was very good in showing you and telling you on a daily basis exactly how much you meant to him and how he’s never been so in love with someone the way he he was with you. It all felt too good to be true. To love him and be loved by him—God it was such a wonderful feeling.

Before Mark, your life was so colorless—so dull. Waking up in the morning felt like a chore. You had to motivation to really do anything besides your responsibilities and you just assumed that it came with being a teenager. But when he stumbled in to your life again, it’s like something awakened inside of you. You’ve never felt more alive.

He gave you a reason to roll out of bed. He gave you the motivation to want to go out and go on adventures. To enjoy life and it’s many wonders. He made you the happiest girl on earth and you were never going to take his presence and his position in your life for granted.

“I know silly girl, and you will. I just want to make sure you know everything by heart. As much as I seem like an easy instructor, and how big of a pushover I am whenever it comes to you, I want you to be safe baby. The road is a dangerous place—“

“Yeah I know, I mean—you’re on it all the time—“

“Hey! I am an amazing driver. I’m a natural y/n. I was born to drive. Some people just have it in them and others—well others take a while to learn.”

You had a feeling he was hinting towards you, so you leaned over to playfully shove him but his reflexes were much quicker than yours. He placed a sloppy kiss on your lips before pulling away; earning himself a soft groan.

“Okay, press on the brake and then lift the lever to put it in drive—good. Just like that. Now slowly, press on the gas. Good job baby. Now—you can speed up a little bit faster—I said a little bit—y/n!”

You failed to notice the speed bump until you and your boyfriend practically flew forward. Maybe driving wasn’t as fun as you assumed it would be and by the look of nervousness on his face, you could tell Mark was soon regretting that he offered to teach you in the first place.

A small pout soon rose on your face; sure this was the first time you were actually driving the car and you weren’t meant to be a professional on your first lesson. But you still felt a wave of disappointment since you couldn’t even do something so simple as to driving at a slow pace. How did your boyfriend make it seem like it was the easiest thing on earth to do?

Most of the time, he’d only use one hand to steer the wheel and he’d always have his knee propped up—making it seem effortless. He was right though; there were some things he was extremely talented with that you practically suck at and there were some activities such as ice skating and baking that Mark could never succeed no matter how hard he tried.

You acted out of instinct; hitting the steering wheel in anger and abruptly putting the car in park. One of the traits you could care less about was your stubbornness. If something didn’t go your way, you were quick to grow angry and give up on whatever it was entirely. That’s just the kind of person you were and sometimes, you’d try to work on improving yourself because you hating lashing out on anyone for no reason.

Especially your boyfriend. Luckily Mark was very understanding and patient whenever you grew frustrated with something and he was very good with calming you down and making you feel better. Which is why it came as no surprise to feel one of his hands graze against your thigh as the other gently wrapped around your neck. His thumb glided against your nape and he began to leave gentle kisses along your cheek. Only then did you realize you were tearing up and it made you feel so pathetic.

“Baby.”

You didn’t want to look at him; you were sure that if you were to see the look of remorse in his eyes that you would cry like a baby and that was the last thing either of you needed at the moment. You just wanted to give up and have him take you back home. It was pointless.

Now you understood why your parents were so against teaching you how to drive. You weren’t even 18 yet. What did you know about adulting and everything that came with being an adult? Why were you trying so hard to rush your age? Why did you want to mature so quickly?

There was so much you had yet to experience—driving could come later. However, you felt like in order to be on the same level as your boyfriend, you needed to know how to drive. It was always him coming to pick you up from school or your house and he was always the one dropping you off.

Although he’s never complained about it once, nor has he asked you to pay for his gas or anything like that, you couldn’t help but feel like such a burden and you wanted to do this so that you could take care of him as much as he was with you.

He’d come drive twenty minutes to your house in the middle of the night if you couldn’t fall asleep and you were well aware there was a big chance he was tired as hell. But he came to you every single time. Sure, he’d fall asleep not to long upon arrival—yet you’d feel so safe and warm just having him around and being wrapped in his embrace.

Sometimes, tension would rise at your house; whether your parents would argue with each other, or scold you for something so minuscule—all you wanted to do was run to your boyfriend and find solace in him. Since Mark was in college though, you knew he had a lot on his plate and you didn’t want to add on to his stress by worrying him about problems you were old enough to handle on your own. He had to get irritated with you every now and then—he was only human.

Having your girlfriend call you at the most randomest times to come pick her up or to console her as she cried had to be burdensome. Just like right now, he was probably annoyed that you only drove one foot and ended up slamming on the breaks in his car. You weren’t too sure how cars worked, but the way you were so rough with the controls probably wasn’t a good thing to do.

“Hey, why are you crying?”

You continued to sit there, forcing your attention on the dashboard and hoping that he would just drop it. However, you’ve known the older boy long enough to realize that he wasn’t going to stop prying at you until you told him what was wrong. He allowed you to let it all out—you weren’t sobbing, but a few tears fell from your cheeks as you began to heaven silently.

Mark ran his fingers through your hair and tried to pull you towards him, but decided to let you be until you were ready to find comfort in him. If Mark was anything, it was considerate. You were confident that he was upset seeing you cry—especially because he must have known you were disappointed in yourself. Your boyfriend was very vocal about how much he despised hearing you degrade yourself and talk negative about your abilities because in his eyes, you were the most wonderful human being to walk this earth.

Nobody was perfect; but to him, you came really close. After a couple of moments, your cries slowly dissipated and to your confusion, he got out of the passenger seat. Right as the question of where he was going fell from your lips, he opened the driver’s door and motioned for you to get up. You were about to get out of the car completely in attempts to head to the passenger side; maybe you weren’t ready to physically learn to drive just yet.

Maybe he was going to teach you a little more from the driver’s manual and from his personal experience before allowing you back in the driver’s seat and honestly, you couldn’t blame him. He was already doing so much for you; allowing you to drive his car and putting not only his and your lives at risk, but the tip top shape of his truck and even his clean driving record since you weren’t under his insurance.

However, before you could do anything, you were being pulled on top of his lap as you felt his mouth smash up against yours. It took you a while to process the entire situation going on in front of you—kissing Mark had to be your favorite past time. His lips were your favorite drug and you could wholeheartedly confess that you were addicted.

You’d find any and every reason to kiss him. Even when you were in places that you should have refrained from any kind of skin ship with your boyfriend, you couldn’t go too long without feeling his soft lips meld perfectly with yours. Mark’s lips were one of your favorite features on him. Not only were the prettiest shade of pink, but they were plump and heart shaped.

When you finally came to your senses, you deepened the kiss and allowed him to shove his tongue inside of your mouth. You could feel him literally take your breath away the longer his mouth was on yours but you weren’t complaining. You would rather spend the rest of the day kissing him and even a little more than to attempt driving again. To your dismay, he hesitantly pulled away—making it obvious that he was fine continuing what the two of you were doing, but the urge to tell you what was on his mind was a little more overbearing.

“Mm—Mark—“

“If you were crying because you were upset with yourself over what just happened, then I need you to know that it’s okay baby. Please understand that it’s a learning process. I’m sorry if I seemed mad or if I raised my voice—I really didn’t mean to I just—I don’t know. I really don’t. Whether it’s because the thought of you in any kind of danger scares the shit out of me or because I don’t want you to grow up just yet—I don’t know what came over me and I’m sorry. But don’t you dare for a second beat yourself up about this okay? I’m so fucking sorry y/n. I’m trying to be a good teacher for you and I know you want to hurry up and get your license which I promise, I will make sure you do. Don’t be too hard on yourself okay? I know, I probably didn’t make things any easier with how I reacted a few minutes ago but driving can be terrifying. Every single time I’m on the road, it may not seem like it but I’m nervous out of my mind especially when you’re in the car with me. The thought of hurting you or being the reason why something bad happens to you drives me crazy. I’m so protective over you, now I can see why your parents are so against you driving. Ah, I’m bad at this.”

His words pulled tightly on your heartstrings like they never failed to do whenever he showed you or went in to explicit detail about how you meant the entire world to him. Mark wasn’t the kind of guy who act all big and intimidating—like he didn’t have feelings. Most of his friends tried to pretend as though they were manly and didn’t care about anyone but themselves. Your boyfriend on the other hand was the complete opposite. Mark was excited to show you off to each and every single person in his life or that the two of you would encounter. He didn’t care if it was considered “feminine” to have and show emotions.

He’d cry so easily at sad movies, or ads about sick children and animals in shelters. He’d cry if life could get a little too much for him to handle and if anything, it made him so much more of a man than those who tried so hard to conceal their inner feelings. This wasn’t the first time he confessed something so heartfelt to you, it’s happened on multiple occasions and it just really solidified the love he held for you.

Not once in your three years of dating did you ever question Mark’s feelings for you and you could only pray that you’ve shown him generously the exact same amount of infatuation that he’s never failed to give you. You repositioned your body so that you were face to face with him and wrapped your arms around his neck, placing a delicate kiss on his jaw and giving him a soft smile.

God, what did you do to deserve someone so selfless, so caring, so gentle and kindhearted, someone who gave you the world on a silver platter and treated you as if you were the most perfect little flower? He gave you a pout, obviously upset with the idea of you being sad and you found yourself bringing your hands up to either side of his face and lifting his lips up in to a smile.

“Don’t be sorry babe. If anyone should be sorry, it should be me. I kept begging you to take me out to teach me and even if you were hesitant, which you have your reasons to, you never said no because you know how much this means to me and how eager I am to finally start driving. I—I know you’ll probably think I’m an idiot for thinking like this and you’ve never done anything or aid anything to make me feel like this, but I consider myself such a burden to you—don’t look at me like that. I’m so grateful you are the way you are and I’m truly so blessed to call you my boyfriend. I’m just saying that if it were anyone else, they’d probably grow frustrated having to drive so much for me and because of me. I’m sure you’ve spent at least $1000 on gas money from having to drop me off and pick me up. I know—you do it because you love me, because you want to see me and spend time with me and because you’d do anything for me—but I know I tend to reach out to you at all the inconvenient times. I want to be able to do something for you for once. You said so yourself, you can’t wait till I started driving so that I can drive up to your house whenever you want to see me. Thank you for trying, and thank you for being so patient with me. I want to make you proud Mark. I’m already so much younger than you. Your friends probably wonder why you’re stuck dating a child. I’m not old enough to drink or go out to bars and clubs. I can’t even buy nail polish remover or Benadryl on my own. Im selfish. My desire to hurry up and get on the road goes beyond being able to drive. I want to be a girlfriend you can proudly show off to everyone—“

“Do I not do that enough already? Did I say something or did something to make you feel like our age difference or the fact that you’re only seventeen and I’m twenty-three is a problem to me? Because it’s not babe. Sometimes I forget that you’re still so young because you act so mature and you have such a good head on your shoulders. If it wasn’t for your cute little baby face, I would assume you were around my age. I don’t give a shot about what anyone has to say or think about our relationship. The only people who’s opinions matter to me is yours and mine. No. You’re not a burden at all. Ever. So take that stupid thought out of your head. Yes, I can’t wait for you to finally get your license but it’s not for the reasons you think. If you ever want to run away from home, I don’t want you having to wait almost half an hour for me to come get you. Once you start working, I don’t want you to catch the bus or walk home if I or one of your family members are not able to pick you up. Your safety is my number one priority next to your happiness. We can still keep practicing if you want to baby, but don’t feel like you have to drive if you’re doing it for me. Do it for yourself. I love you more than you will ever be able to fathom okay? You’re it for me. You’re my person—my soulmate. The only person I see myself spending my entire life with. I hope you know that I’m going to be the one who teaches our kids how to drive one day. I don’t need them crashing or totaling the car because you failed to teach them right—hey! What? I’m just being honest baby you’re lucky you’re cute. But seriously though y/n, don’t you ever for even just a second doubt your place in my life and what you mean to me.”

This had to be the coldest winter yet in California. You were currently in your car and the heater was on high, but you were freezing. You didn’t know what led you to sneaking out of your house at two in the morning; you couldn’t find it in yourself to fall asleep.

These last few months, you developed insomnia. No matter how hard you tried; taking sleeping pills, mentally counting sheep, staring at the ceiling in the hopes that your eyelids would close sooner or later, nothing seemed to work. After throwing on a jacket and some sweatpants, you tiptoed downstairs towards the living room and tried your very best to quietly close the door—not wanting to wake up your parents.

There was so much animosity between you and them that you blamed heavily on yourself. You only ever talked to them if they approached you first and even then, it was nothing more than a few sentences. As soon as you got in to your car that they got as a congratulations present for getting your license a little over two weeks ago, you started to drive with no destination in mind.

All you wanted to do was get as far away from reality as possible. You decided that you’d go wherever the road took you. Thankfully, since it was so early in the morning, there was hardly anyone on the road which meant you didn’t have to put too much effort in to driving. Your entire body felt numb—and it wasn’t because of the freezing weather.

You were so deep in to your thoughts, not paying any mind to your surroundings that you failed to notice where you ended up heading to. This road was so familiar; you’ve been down it more than a hundred times in the past few years. It was imprinted on both your mind and your heart.

Of course your subconscious would lead you here. It’s been a while since you’ve last took a trip down this street—you no longer had a reason to since that heartbreaking night a little over six months ago. That night had to be the worst in your entire eighteen years of your existence. All of a sudden, the painful memories of Mark leaving you alone in your backyard right after he ended your four year relationship as if it was the easiest thing to do came rushing back like a slap to the face.

I’m sorry, but I just can’t do this anymore.

He asked if he could come over and you didn’t think much of it. He spent most of his time over at your house only because the two of you had more privacy since it was just you and your parents whereas all three of his siblings and their families all lived at home.

When he arrived, you were quick to pick up on the fact that he seemed tense; as if something was wrong. You didn’t think much of it, maybe he had a hard day at work or school. If only you knew then what you knew now, you would have approached the situation much more differently.

As you tried to reach out for his hand, he abruptly yanked it away and that’s when red flags began to go off in your head. Did you do something wrong? Why was he visibly angry? What could have happened that made him so—so indignant? It’s as if something had possessed him; you’ve never seen him this distressed before in your many years of knowing him and it worried you.

So many negative thoughts began piling up and your head began to hurt. He walked over to the swing set your parents set up for you and your siblings and took a seat. You were about to ask him why he was acting so agitated when he beat you to it. It’s been six months, but you can still physically feel the pain in your chest to this day. His words replayed every single day as if they were taunting you; they were a constant reminder that he was no longer in your life.

That he was no longer your person—the love of your life. Everything he said to you, all the promises for the future was a lie.

I’m breaking up with you.

Your mind drew a blank; you couldn’t process the thought of no longer having him as your boyfriend. You remember asking why—you wanted to beg him, to tell him that you were willing to change whatever it was about yourself that he fell out of love with. You would have done anything to get him to stay. Everything hurt and you just wanted to collapse. It’s as if time stopped.

He refused to look at you—his vision was set to the ground, kicking at the dirt. There were so many questions that you wanted to ask him, so many things you wanted to say but nothing came out other than why.

When did he fall out of love with you? When did he realize you were no longer the person he saw himself spending forever with? Where did it all go wrong? Everything was just fine the day before. The two of you were cuddling up on his bed, watching some movies on Netflix.

He dropped you back to your house earlier that morning, kissed you passionately and told you that he loved you. What happened in the few hours that he was away at school that made him decide to do the unthinkable and break up with you? It was in that moment where all your insecurities about being too young, too innocent and inexperienced—too immature and not enough for him in so many aspects.

Your worst nightmares came true; he finally came to the realization that he could get a woman his age; someone much more successful, so much prettier, funnier, kinder—he was in his mid-twenties and you were just a teenager in high school. You were holding him back from so much. It was finally catching up to him. He was a grown man; taking care of his younger girlfriend shouldn’t even have to be his responsibility.

I’m no longer happy in this relationship anymore.

Once those words fell from his lips, you sank to your knees and began to cry. You knew it was pathetic, but with the very small amount of strength you had left, you crawled over to him and wrapped your arms around his legs.

Please. Please don’t leave.

You could try to beg him as much as you possibly could—you could cry and plead for him to change his mind. This man opened your eyes to so much. He made you so happy. He taught you how to love yourself so that you could love him to the best of your ability.

Mark Tuan was the rightful owner of your heart. He was your best friend before he was your life partner. How were you supposed to live without him? When you pulled away to take a look at him, he was void of all facial expressions. Why was he taking this so well; he was breaking up with you, the person he claimed he couldn’t live without.

He seemed fine—okay even. It was as if these last four years the two of you spent together—the many laughs, kisses, stolen glances, late night drives, all nighters making promises for the future, they no longer meant anything to him. Where was the Mark who adored you and loved you with his entire physical being? The Mark who drove over to your house at three in the morning just because he missed you.

The same Mark who stayed on the phone with your mom for almost two hours learning how to make you your favorite dessert to surprise you for your anniversary? The same Mark that would put on and wear face masks with you—dance to the most eccentric songs.

Where was the Mark who claimed that you were the one who set the universe in to the sky and who was this monster that practically ripped your heart from out of your chest and stepped on it repeatedly? You didn’t know who this stranger was standing in front of you.

It’s for the best.

The tears were hot on your cheeks; images of the first time you went over to his house as his girlfriend and not his best friend’s little sister. He brought you outside to the sidewalk and kissed you sweetly—bringing some of your hair behind your ear and complimenting you on how beautiful you looked. It felt like years ago and now that he wasn’t in your life anymore, it was hard to believe that even happened.

All your memories with Mark felt like a fever dream. Did your relationship ever even happen? Was Mark really ever in your life? Was he ever really yours? You wished you pried at him more—you just needed closure.

These days, you were so bitter, so depressed and unhappy. When you got your license, you honestly couldn’t even care less. A part of you didn’t even want to take the test. It would only remind you of Mark and what was no longer. You had no motivation to continue to learn how to drive at all. Your whole reason to get your license no longer existed.

Stupid, stupid girl. Why did you give yourself completely to someone else? Why did you trust someone with your heart? Your fragile, delicate heart. But it was Mark. You wouldn’t have expected him to do something like that. You haven’t heard from him since he left you not too long after telling you that he was done. You cut him off completely—deleted his number and blocked him on all of your social media.

A part of you, no matter how much you tried to push the thought of it at the back of your mind—you believed that there was a chance he just so happened to find someone else in college. Someone who could provide for him in ways that you couldn’t. Mark could have claimed that he loved you and that there was nobody else for him, but only he knew what was best for him and sometimes the person we live isn’t the person we need. You sat outside of his house for what felt like hours.

You couldn’t leave. It wasn’t as if you expected anything to happen. He wasn’t going to come out running to you with open arms, telling you that he made a mistake and that he misses you so much. No. That wasn’t going to happen. Your sobs echoed throughout the car—surely he was moved on already. For all you knew, he probably didn’t even live there anymore. The thought of not meaning as much to him as he did with you plagued you every single day. How could he be so unphased? Did you really mean that little or even nothing to him?

After everything you’ve been through together, how was he not hurting? How did the break up not affect him at all? In attempts to take your mind off of him, you turned on the radio—but ultimately ended up regretting that you did so.

Your song—your song with Mark—began to blast through the speakers. It was already at the chorus, but that was the part Mark claimed reminded him of your relationship. Life was never on your side, what did you ever do to deserve so much misery? Why was your life slowly falling apart at the seams? It was so unfair.

After allowing yourself some time to stop crying completely, you shut off the radio and drove away—not being able to stay much longer. Before you actually drove off though, you began to type in a phone number, one you knew by heart. You knew it was wrong, but you didn’t even care. Whether or not you got a response, it didn’t matter. He needed to know what the breakup was doing to you.

You: Hey. Not that you care, but I finally got my driver’s license. I just thought I’d let you know. 2:34 A.M.

You: Oh by the way 2:35 A.M.

You: I still fucking love you. 2:45 A.M.

Read at 2:46 A.M.

#got7 imagines #got7 #mark tuan #mark tuan imagines #got7 mark

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worldwidemochiguy · 5 years

Text

expectation ≠ reality (18+)

When you first met Jungkook, he was so kind, with wide eyes and a sweet smile, but soon enough he dragged you into a tumultuous marriage where you were barely allowed to draw breath on your own. But, when you meet Taehyung, the cute delivery boy with blond hair and a penchant for flirting, you start to wonder if you’ve found your second chance.

Masterlist

Warnings: Yandere behaviour, possessive behaviour, slight dub-con, graphic penetrative sex, DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE A MINOR pls im not tryna get arrested or anything

Word Count: 4K

a/n: thanks to @gucieguciekook for requesting !! hope u enjoy lol <3

Expectation ≠ Reality

You have had enough.

From the moment you agreed to marry him, Jungkook had been getting steadily worse and worse. He had always been possessive to a fault, but you mistakenly saw it as a sign he truly cared and treasured you. You cooed over his obsession with littering hickeys all over your neck, blushed when he called you ‘Mine. Only mine.’ When he asked you to move in way too quickly, you thought it was a sign he was committed to your relationship.

How wrong you were.

Not that he isn’t committed, of course. God, if there was ever a word to describe Jeon Jungkook, it was committed. He is obsessed with you. He slowly started cutting you off from the outside world, persuading you to stay in when your friends invited you out, and convincing you they were terrible people when they inevitably stopped interacting with you. You had cut out everyone else in your life because of him.

Your parents:

babe, they don’t approve of our relationship because they don’t want you to be happy with your own life, they want to control you and treat you like a kid. you don’t need them anyway, you have me.

Your coworkers:

i called in sick for you today, babe. you don’t need to go there anymore, i have more than enough money for the both of us.

Even your pet:

your cat? oh, i’m sorry baby, she got hit by a car. no, don’t cry, baby, now you can give all of your attention to me instead of that rancid furball.

Jungkook had isolated you and exhausted you to the point where you agreed to marry him, convinced it could not make your life any worse.

Again, you were wrong.

With his ring on now your finger, Jungkook is even more assured of his ownership of you. You are no longer allowed to cook or go into the garden, both deemed as dangerous activities where you could somehow be harmed by a vegetable peeler, or maybe grass cuttings. You have no access to the internet, and the only books you are permitted to read are simple, dull books with no plot or dusty old historical text books, obviously the only things Jungkook is certain wouldn’t give you ‘silly ideas to confuse your pretty little head.’

~~~~

“Jungkook,” You murmur, voice muffled as he presses your face into the pillow.

“Yeah, baby, say my name just like that.” He grunts, attempting to tug off your skirt with one hand while the other is fisted in your hair. You roll your eyes and shift your weight so he can take it off properly. After he had separately ripped all your pants at some point in his haste to take them off you, you had realised it was simply easier to wear something less finicky.

As soon your lower half is bared for him, he starts running his large palms greedily over your skin, for his own benefit rather than yours.

“Fuck, look at you.” He mutters, before digging a thumb into a bruise he had left on your ass. You yelp and he chuckles lowly behind you. Just as you expect, he presses firmly on the bruise and you clench your teeth, burying your nails in your palms and refusing to make a noise. He waits for a second, but you remain stubbornly silent.

“Huh,” he says, “I guess baby’s pain threshold has risen a bit, yeah?” He strokes a possessive hand between your shoulder blades and you repress a shiver, before he loops his arm around you and lifts you onto your hands and knees.

“I guess I’ll just have to fuck you harder then.” He resolves, before shoving himself into you roughly.

Jungkook is not small, putting it lightly, though you hate to afford any kind of praise to that bastard. He is long, and thick, and you really hadn’t been very turned on at all, just letting him do what he wanted so that he’d leave you alone, so you don’t blame yourself too much when a scream bursts out of your lips. You can barely hear his smug laugh behind you over the burning sensation in your core. He doesn’t give you any time at all to adjust, roughly pumping himself in and out as you try to hold in your whimpers.

“So fucking tight, baby.” He grunts in your ear, punctuating his words with harsh slaps against your thigh, “You sure you can handle my cock?” This is his offer: Admit that I’m hurting you, admit that you’re weak and at my mercy, and I’ll stop. That’s all you have to do.

You clench your teeth and press your face into the pillow again.

He sighs behind you, though you can tell he’s quietly pleased, before pulling out of you and walking away. Him yanking out and leaving you roughly stretched and exposed to the cold air is almost as painful as when he shoved into you in the first place, and when he returns you resent yourself for feeling the slightest hint of relief.

He is carrying a bottle of lube, normally used for when he decides he wants to fuck your ass instead. You tense up, preparing to swallow your pride and beg him not to — it’s been a while and you’re not sure you can take the pain — but he senses your fear and smirks.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m just gonna make it a bit easier for you.” As he speaks, he’s slicking up his cock and soon enough he’s getting back up on his knees and taking ahold of your hips, pushing himself in slightly gentler this time.

The coolness of the gel soothes — but doesn’t eradicate — the burn and Jungkook has started to move in long, rolling strokes inside you that are almost pleasant.

“See, baby?” Jungkook coos as his hands move around to stroke your stomach, “I don’t want to hurt you, you have to know that. I hate hurting you, but you never tell me to stop. You have to know your limits, baby girl. You’re just not strong enough.”

His words — though patronising, and awful, and the kind of thing that make you want to whack him in the neck with one of those massive historical tomes he provides you — are spoken in that soft, Jungkook tone that he used to make you fall in love with him. It reminds you of those days when he was just Kookie, your cute study partner with a bunny smile and a pretty singing voice and broad muscly shoulders that flushed along with the rest of his body when you complimented him.

The Jungkook that you know him as now — the one swiftly bringing you to a reluctant and resentful orgasm — is the opposite of soft. He is rough and impulsive and controlling and you honestly fear what would happen if you tried to ask him for a divorce. He wouldn’t let you go, probably. He’d just laugh at you, and then shove you down and fuck you to make you remember who you really belonged to, like he is doing now.

You try to contain your pants as Jungkook starts a series of staccato thrusts. You are sure Jungkook would hear you, even over the obscene sound of his hips slapping into the back of your thighs, and would be obnoxiously proud about it for the next month. He would already be smug enough having made you come, which you have given up trying to stave off because Jungkook — damn him — is really good at fucking you until you can’t remember your own name.

He reaches around to pinch your clit harshly and you decide that now is as good a time as any to give up your last remaining vestiges of pride. You come with a piercing whine, clenching around him rhythmically until his hips stutter and you feel the unpleasant sensation of warmth spilling into you. He doesn’t stop, pumping every last drop into you and then dropping on top of you, pinning your body to the mattress.

After a while he rearranges himself so that he is spooning you, arms wrapped stiflingly tight around your waist, and his now-flaccid cock still tucked inside you. You grimace. Jungkook had always fallen fast asleep after sex, but now you are wide awake, hyperaware as he snores behind you. You don’t know what you’ve become. You hate him. But sometimes he says things that make you wish he wasn’t a monster, that make you wish he was the boy with soft smiles and expressive eyes that you had fallen in love with. You live for the resurgences of that humanity, because it is the only thing you have to look forward to, apart from the eventual day when Jungkook finally snaps and kills you.

~~~~

“Jungkook,” you say over breakfast, and he looks up with his cheeks full of pancake.

“Yes, my angel?” He asks, eyes twinkling — he loves when you say his name — and your breath catches, and for a second everything is perfect and you are having breakfast across from a boy who loves you more than anything. And then you see the annoyed glint in his eye — you hadn’t immediately answered his question — and you come crashing back to bitter reality.

“I-” You start, then stop, unsure of how to phrase the question into a compliment, that way Jungkook is more likely to give you what you want.

“Say what you want to say, baby. You know how I hate to be kept waiting…” He gives you a shark’s smile.

“I… I really loved all the books you gave me.” You tell him, making sure your voice is exactly the correct tone of gushing admiration.

“Really?” He replies, a pleased expression on his face as he strokes your hair back gently.

“Yes, and I- I was wondering if maybe… I could have some more?”

His hand drifts down to rest at the hollow of your throat. It curls slightly.

“N-not that I’m not grateful-” You stammer, “B-But… I liked them all so much I read them too quickly, and now I have nothing else to do with you’re gone.” You end the statement with a playful pout, and you feel your self-loathing level up a notch.

“Baby, you have to remember to take your time with things like that.” Jungkook grinned, standing up and getting his briefcase. You move to the door where you are supposed to administer a farewell kiss before he goes to work, just like always.

He smiles, satisfied, before looking sideways slightly so you can get up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He reaches around to squeeze your ass quickly, smirking when you squeak in shock.

“Don’t be greedy baby, take what you’re given.” He tosses a ‘Love you!’ over his shoulder as he goes, and when you call it back the words taste sour on your tongue. You wonder if you had ever uttered those words sincerely.

~~~~

You had been thinking Jungkook had forgotten about your request for books, so when the doorbell rings at six o clock and you answer it to see a cute delivery boy with a bundle of books tucked under his arm, you are surprised to say the least.

“D-Delivery for Jeon Jungkook?” He stutters, and you had been expecting him to have a slightly high, nervous voice so the deep, thick drawl shocks you in more ways than one. You can feel yourself melt just looking at him. His eyes are so… innocent, just like Jungkook’s when you first saw him. His nose cutely scrunches as his blond hair — longer than Jungkook’s — falls in soft clumps over his eyes. He huffs a lopsided breath and the light strands flutter about momentarily, before settling back just where they were. You think you’ve fallen in love.

You realise you’ve been staring at him this entire time, but to be fair, he has been staring right back, and you feel yourself become flustered.

“Uh, yeah, that’s me. That’s my package.”

“Sorry ma’am,” He starts in his honey voice, before grinning. He seems to gain confidence due to your flustered state. “-but this package is addressed to a Mr Jeon Jungkook, and you certainly don’t look like a ‘Mr’.” He mutters as his eyes drag up and down your form. You are only in your nightie — Jungkook always likes it when you wear pretty, flimsy things — and this stranger’s gaze is making you blush in a way you know Jungkook wouldn’t be happy about.

“Yeah, that’s… uh, that’s my husband. Jeon Jungkook.”

“Your husband, huh?” The delivery boy does not seem put off by the mention of a husband, in fact, he seems almost spurred on by it. “And where is Mr Jeon Jungkook right now?”

“He’s working late. He would normally be back by now but he called and said he’s spending the night at the office.”

“Working late, huh?” The delivery boy repeats in that cocky drawl, and oddly enough, it reminds you of Jungkook. “You know, if I had a wife like you waiting for me to come home, I don’t know if I’d even make it out of bed long enough to go to work in the morning, let alone stay there overnight.”

Your eyes widen as your cheeks darken, and his open, bright laughter is the nicest thing you’ve heard in months.

“What happened to the nervous delivery boy?” You spluttered indignantly, and his laughing slowed down, though his eyes were still twinkling. Just like Jungkook’s used to do.

“He relaxed when he realised you were just as affected by him as he was by you.”

“Who says I’m affected by you?” You ask boldly, and then immediately retreat a step when he moves towards you.

“You’re giving yourself away, sweetheart.” He smirks, before advancing another step into your home. “You know… empty house… husband at work… it seems a waste not to use this opportunity.” He waggles his eyebrows at you, and you scoff, forcing him back with both hands until he is outside the door again. He lets you push him with a brow raised lazily.

“That sounded like a line from a bad porno, and I’m pretty sure Jungkook would literally kill me if he found out.” You fake a laugh, covering up your very real and valid fear that Jungkook would actually kill you.

“Jungkook’s the possessive type, huh?”

Yes, you scream internally.

“Well, I’m pretty sure no husband would like delivery boys sleeping with their wives.”

“What about delivery boys visiting their wives during the day?”

You pause, hands floating in midair, about to take the parcel out of the delivery boy’s hands.

“Huh?”

“I could come around in the day while your husband’s at work-” He sped up when you raised your brows, “-not to do anything, or at least, anything that you’re uncomfortable with, but just to talk. I can tell you’re lonely.” You scoff and roll your eyes, ignoring the fact that he’s absolutely correct. You turn back to him, ready to decline his offer, when you see his puppy eyes. Your resolve crumbles.

“I don’t know,” You had no way of telling what punishments Jungkook would submit you to if he found out. He didn’t even let you talk to your parents, so you could hardly imagine he’d be pleased with you chatting to young, attractive men while alone at your house.

“Come on!” The delivery boy wheedled. “He’d never know. He’s practically asking for it, he leaves you alone day after day, all you have for company are these stupid books!” A dismissive gesture to the collection of Austen, Dickens and Shakespeare you are carrying. “Aren’t you bored? Don’t you want a little excitement?”

You tiredly fumble around for an excuse.

“I don’t even know your name.”

“My name’s Taehyung.” He introduces himself promptly. “I’d like to visit you tomorrow at lunch time, if that’s alright.”

“You sure you don’t have a delivery then?” You ask hopefully.

“I don’t.”

You release a weary sigh.

“You’re going to come no matter what I say, aren’t you?” He responds with a blinding grin.

“I love that we’re learning things about each other! You can already anticipate my actions,” He starts listing off ‘facts’ on his fingers, “you know my name, I know you’re trapped in an unsatisfying marriage-”

“I’ll see you tomorrow Taehyung.” You shut the door firmly, cutting him off.

You hear a muffled ‘can’t wait!’ from the other side of the door and if you happen to blush and giggle like a lovesick schoolgirl it doesn’t matter because no one else is there and therefore it cannot be proved.

~~~~

Taehyung starts paying you regular visits. He keeps up his job obligations even when he’s off the clock, bringing you food that Jungkook wouldn’t let you eat, newspapers since Jungkook doesn’t let you know what was going on in the outside world, and even snapshots of his day.

Taehyung is an aspiring photographer. He has a small apartment outside of the city and an obsession with strawberries and a dog called Yeontan. He has a life, a life that you are desperately beginning to yearn for. Taehyung tells you once that he wishes he could take a photo of you outside, because he knows this perfect spot — a field full of wildflowers and sunshine that would compliment your beauty perfectly — and you burst into tears.

You tell him, as he rocks you gently in his arms, that you are trapped by Jungkook. That you hate your husband more than anything. That you can’t remember the last time you felt the sun on your skin. And so, quietly, carefully, the two of you begin to plot.

It is not as simple as calling the police. Jungkook has enough money that there is no crime he cannot buy his way out of, no officer he cannot bribe into submission. No, you have to disappear completely. You begin passing along your possessions to Taehyung so he can take them back to his place, gradually, so that Jungkook doesn’t notice you are withdrawing from his life one pair of shoes at a time.

You daren’t risk taking any money of Jungkook, but Taehyung tells you it isn’t a problem, which is slightly strange since you know Taehyung must have quit his delivery boy job so that he could see you every day, and surely he could do with some extra cash. You tell yourself it’s sweet that he doesn’t care about material things, he just cares about you.

“What are these?” Jungkook asks one morning, when he is greeted not with eggs sunny side up and a kiss, but a stack of papers.

“A divorce contract.” You tell him, trying to ignore the waver in your voice. He only raises an eyebrow at you, and you blanch.

You had been expecting yelling, threats, maybe even violence. Taehyung had begged you to just leave without a trace, and abandon Jungkook to his own horrid life of loneliness, but you just can’t do that, even if it is the safer option. There is still a small, pathetic part of you that clings to the idea of Kookie, the boy with wire-rimmed glasses and carefree smiles who always accepted your help with questions he couldn’t answer. Even though you know that side of him is now long-dead, if it ever even existed in the first place.

However, Jungkook is currently subverting all of your expectations. He sits there calmly, leafing through the papers.

“These don’t make any sense.” He remarks. You attempt to snatch them back, but he holds them out of your reach.

“Yes, well, I wasn’t really expecting you to read them.” You reply, embarrassed. The fake contract had been your idea, a way of telling Jungkook you wanted a divorce without actually saying the words. Of course, you had expected him to fling them into the fire, or something equally as dramatic, not read through them carefully and snort at all the typos.

“I understand.” He declares eventually. “You want my attention, so you’re pretending that you want to leave me. Very funny, baby.”

“That’s not true!” You burst out, cheeks burning. “I am leaving you, divorce contract or not.”

“Hush, baby, you know I don’t like it when you lie.” Jungkook purrs, his eyes burning dangerously.

“I don’t care what you like anymore, Jungkook.” You respond, suddenly furious, “I’ve spent so many years as your wife, being terrified by you, being controlled and miserable. Now I’ve got Taehyung, and I’m finally happy! I love him, Jungkook, not you. I’m leaving.”

You turn away and storm to the door, but hesitate when you hear Jungkook chuckle.

“If you think you are liberating yourself by going to Kim Taehyung… you are wrong, baby.”

“H-How do you know his family name?” You ask, fear starting to invade your mind.

“I know a lot of things about Mr Kim,” Jungkook spits, and his anger starts to bleed through. “He is not who you think he is, baby. Are you sure you want to go?” His patronising tone is the last straw for you.

“I’d rather die than stay here with you.”

“Who knows, baby, Mr Kim might just fulfil your wish.” You blanch again, hesitating with your hand on the lock, a breath away from freedom.

“Y-You’re just trying to scare me.” You stutter, and you hear him sigh behind you.

“No, baby, I’m trying to warn you, but you insist on being so, so dumb. I don’t like to see you hurt, remember? But, if this will teach you a lesson about how lucky you are to have me, I guess I’ll have to let you go. Just remember, baby, when you’re with him and it’s not all you expect it to be, I will be coming for you.” As he speaks, he rises from his seat and moves across the room until he is right behind you, his breath ghosting on the back of your neck as you stubbornly refuse to turn, hand still poised on the latch.

“I’m not coming back.” You whisper, and you feel a huff of laughter against your neck.

“No, baby, I’ll rescue you, and take you back. I promise, you’ll be counting the days until you’re in my arms again.”

~~~~

Jungkook watches from the window as your harried form disappears into the distance. Cursing softly to himself, he turns on his phone and pulls up a number he is loathe to possess.

“So, she left you, huh?” A cocky voice drawls across the line.

“Shut it, Kim.” Jungkook snaps, “She’s still my wife, she still belongs to me.”

“Oh? You didn’t sign the divorce papers?”

“Yes, very funny by the way, Kim. ‘I hereby announce that Kim Taehyung has been our mother’s favourite from the moment of his conception.’ You should’ve become a comic instead of a criminal.” Jungkook reads a line from the fake files.

“Well, I could say the same to you, baby brother, allowing your wife to leave you like this. It’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in years.”

“Half-brother.” Jungkook growls. “And she hasn’t left me.”

“The tracker I planted on her begs to differ.”

“She’s just…” Jungkook huffs, “Confused.”

“No, she’s just got good taste, obviously.”

“You really are pathetic, stealing your little brother’s toys like this, hyung.” Jungkook taunts. “Soon, very soon, I’m going to come and get her back. I better not find her too broken when I get there.”

Jungkook hangs up, mutters a curse under his breath, and then starts planning the inevitable gang war he’s going to have to embroil himself in because his wife can’t keep her damn legs closed.

#yandere #Yandere jungkook #yandere bts #yandere jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x reader #yandere kpop #yandere taehyung #yandere taehyung x reader #bts taehyung #bts taehyung x reader #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts smut #jungkook smut

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winryofresembool · 4 years

Text

Caleo fic: It’s all about the name

Chapters 3-4(/5)

Summary: Calypso is a barista at a coffee shop and one day she gets a customer who refuses to give her his real name. At first he seems really annoying but eventually Calypso finds out not all is what it looks like on the surface. (Coffee shop AU!)

a/n: More updates! Only one more to go after these two chapters that I'm posting today. I would have loved to make this au even longer but time is a b*tch and I'm really itching to continue working on twlitf already.

Hope you enjoy and please do leave me comments because even if I have almost finished this fic, I definitely want to know what you guys think!

Words: 3,6k+

Genre: fluff, humor

Warnings: none

previous chapters / AO3

...

The next day, the ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ showed up at the coffee shop just like he had promised. He didn’t have to ask for Calypso because she spotted him from afar, being rather easy to recognize. They didn’t have a lot of customers wearing an army jacket over an orange shirt, tools hanging from the pockets, and the bottom half being the work coveralls. At least he had left his backpack home this time, Calypso sighed with relief. She couldn’t deny, though, that in a weird way that outfit suited him. As she saw him more closely, she noticed he seemed pretty cheerful, which was probably a good sign. Or then he was just preparing to annoy her some more and was already looking forward to that. Calypso supposed she’d find out soon enough.

Either way, she stepped closer to the counter so the ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ could see her better.

“So you did come,” she greeted him and he gave her that annoying grin of his that seemed to come so naturally.

“Why, of course,” he responded. “Couldn’t possibly have missed the opportunity to see the Sunshine again.”

“Are you flirting with me? Because I swear, if you are, it’s not going to work,” Calypso told him bluntly, still having her latest relationship too fresh in her mind.

“That’s crazy talk,” the guy responded, putting his hand over his chest. “How would I even dare to flirt with you? You’re way out of my league.”

“Out of your league? Uh, I don’t know about that,” Calypso mumbled, more to herself than to him. The broken relationships had left a mark on her self esteem and she didn’t consider herself as someone to be looked up to.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” the guy said, looking confused.

“Um, nothing,” Calypso tried to brush it off. “It was not relevant. But enough with that; what are you going to order? Remember, it’s on the house. Do you want the double espresso you ordered yesterday or something else?”

“I’d rather have something else,” the guy said, his gaze going back and forth between Calypso and the menu. “Truth to be told, I’m not big on coffee. I’ve noticed it makes me even more hyper than I already am. ADHD and all that good stuff, you know. Yesterday was a special occasion because I had to work overtime.”

“Alright, what will that something else be then?” Calypso asked, feeling that a lot of things about this guy already made more sense.

“Anything with no caffeine would be good. What would you rec? You’re the expert on your menu, after all,” he noted.

“Do you like sweet things?” Calypso asked.

“Sweet is fine, yeah,” the guy agreed.

“Then how about hot chocolate? We’re pretty generous with the whipped cream we add on it,” Calypso promised. “And we can even add marshmallows if you like those.”

“I think just the cream will be fine, don’t wanna be in a complete sugar coma when I need to go back to work,” the guy noted. “To go, by the way. I can’t stay long.”

“Fine, one hot chocolate without marshmallows coming then. Will you finally tell me your name?” Calypso asked.

“Super-sized McShizzle,” the guy replied without missing a beat.

“Just when I thought that you might be an OK guy after all…” Calypso said but the tone of her voice told she wasn’t being serious.

“What’s life without some mystery, Sunshine?” He smiled at her and Calypso wondered briefly what the hell this conversation was about really.

“Yeah, what indeed?” she responded. Then she realized that the silly conversation had been going on long enough for a small queue form behind the guy. “Well, Johnny.” His mouth twitched when she said the new made up name. “Your hot chocolate will be waiting for you at the other counter in a minute. And I hope you won’t scare me so much this time that I’ll drop the drink.”

“Will try to not do that.”

The Super-sized McShizzle or Bad Boy Supreme moved to the other counter, and as Calypso was shaking the canned whipped cream, she was still playing the conversation in her head. For an outsider it probably seemed like they were being rude to each other. But Calypso thought she had learned to read this stranger a bit better already and guessed he actually enjoyed their bickering - and she had to admit that some part of her enjoyed them as well. Drawing a small heart after the made up name Johnny, she finally approached him at the counter and managed to deliver the hot chocolate without messing anything up. ‘Johnny’ took it gratefully but he gave her a funny look when he read his name on the cup.

“Aw, you even drew a heart there!” He noted. “I am starting to think you have started warming up to me.”

“No way. You? Why would I do that?” Calypso raised her eyebrow questioningly, but it probably wasn’t very effective thanks to her red cheeks.

“Because all the ladies love…” he checked his name from the cup again. “Johnny?”

“You should learn to know when to stop,” Calypso warned, rolling her eyes, but her mouth betrayed her.

“Oh c’mon, your mouth just twitched. I saw it,” the guy said. Then he took a swig from his cup and hummed approvingly. “Yup. This is the stuff. Not bad, Sunshine, I would definitely drink this again.”

“I’m glad you like it, especially since it’s supposed to be my apology to you.”

“In that case, apology accepted.” ‘Johnny’ wiped his mouth and checked the clock on the wall. “Well, I won’t bother you more this time because Jo is expecting me to be back at the garage any minute now. I was surprised she allowed me to come here in the first place but she seemed to think it’s good for me to meet new people. Apparently I spend too much time at work. But oh well, if I want to buy a car I need to save a lot of money…”

“That’s why you’re working overtime?” Calypso asked curiously.

“Yeah… I’ve been moving from place to place almost my whole life so at least owning a car would make it easier… Unless I find some reason to stay somewhere.” He shrugged, looking more serious than he had the whole time he’d been there. “I don’t know. But yeah, I should get going now. Maybe I’ll see around some time, though.” His smile returned. “This place is definitely better than I first thought.”

“Yeah, maybe I will see you around,” Calypso said, feeling a bit flustered again. It seemed that there was a lot more to this stranger’s story than she had first imagined. The small glimpses of the reality behind his jokes gave her a picture of a restless, unsure young man who was still looking for his place in the world. That piqued her interest and made her wish she really would see him again.

…

The mystery guy started visiting the coffee shop regularly during his breaks. After a couple of weeks Calypso already knew that his boss was called Jo and she was married to a woman called Emmie who handled the flower shop side of the business and they had an adoptive daughter Georgina. Even though the mystery guy hadn’t stayed in town for more than a couple of months so far, he seemed to have formed a strong bond with these people and especially adored the little Georgie whom he treated almost like a sister. Calypso also knew that the guy’s best friends were called Jason and Piper but unfortunately they were currently studying in another town so he couldn’t see them that often. He also had a pet lizard called Festus who apparently liked to nibble pretty much everyone except his fingers. Despite knowing all of that, there was still something Calypso didn’t know about him.

“Let’s play the game: guess my name,” the ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ suggested one time when he was ordering a soda. “What do you think?”

Calypso thought about it for a moment. “Alright. Mike? Chris? Alex? Peter? Luke?”

“No, no, no, no and no,” he answered without hesitating, his mouth curled up with amusement.

“Ed? Sebastian? Jake? Thomas? Leon?” Calypso kept throwing in random names that came to her mind.

“Still no to all,” the mystery guy shook his head. “Although those were not half bad guesses. I wouldn’t mind being called Ed. A character in one of my favorite animes is called that and he’s quite a badass.”

“You watch anime?” Calypso asked curiously. “I wouldn’t have guessed that about you.”

“Well, I’m full of surprises.” He smirked before turning more serious. “Um, truth to be told, Georgina keeps ranting about her favorite animes when she’s hanging out at the garage with me and one time I just decided to binge watch some of them to be able to keep up with her. Turns out some of them are actually quite solid. Like this Fullmetal Alchemist. Ahem, but that probably isn’t interesting to you so I’ll stop now.”

“No, don’t worry about it!” Calypso reassured him. “I like hearing about your interests. I am not that familiar with anime but maybe some time you can recommend something to me to watch when I have more free time.”

“Yeah, maybe.” The guy smiled before turning a bit hesitant. “Um, I know you’re probably busy and stuff but I have a free chair at my table if you happen to be in need of a break. Just sayin’, but it’s OK if you can’t.”

Calypso was surprised that he asked so bluntly. The truth was that a bit before his appearance she had already considered taking a break so the timing was good enough and she decided to accept his offer. It was a quiet moment at the coffee shop so her coworkers were fine with it as well.

“You know now that I watch anime but what about your interests?” the ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ asked once they had settled down at an empty table. “What do you do outside this coffee shop?”

“You really want to know?” Calypso questioned.

“Of course I do!” he said immediately. “I’ve revealed quite a bit about myself so it’s your turn now.”

Calypso felt a bit hesitant about talking about personal stuff, possibly afraid her mystery customer would judge her. “I, um… I have a mini garden on my balcony… I grow some edible plants there. I also enjoy reading because it's a good distraction from some unwanted thoughts.”

“I can relate to that,” the guy confessed but didn’t elaborate. Calypso wondered briefly what he may have wanted distraction from.

“Yeah…” she said instead of asking more because she doubted he would have liked that. “When I was a kid, I used to do a lot of music related things, like sing, play the piano and stuff like that but I stopped at some point because my father seemed to think it’s a waste of time. So, yeah. I was pretty upset about that. Who knows, maybe when I have more money I’ll be able to take more classes again… Lately I’ve been trying to express myself by painting, though, because watercolors are luckily cheap and I really needed something to do after…” She stopped when she realized she was about to reveal too much.

“After what?” the guy wanted to know.

“I don’t even know your name so I have no idea why I’m telling you this… but I guess it can’t hurt. I can trust you, right?”

“Of course!” her chat mate assured.

Calypso sighed before continuing. “I recently broke up with someone with whom I had been in quite a long relationship. Yeah, looking back to it, maybe it was for the best because clearly he wasn’t as invested as I was, but it still hurt to hear that he wanted to break up with me because there was someone else in his life. So, that’s why I’ve needed more distractions lately.” When she saw his serious expression, she rushed to add: “Don’t worry about me, though, I’m fine. I’ve already accepted that this is how it is. Trust me, it’s better that way. But it explains why I was so grumpy on that day we met.”

“Oh, OK. Sorry about that guy. I think he made a big ass mistake there but unfortunately some of us can be kinda blind… Hey, what are you staring at?” he asked when he noticed her watching him weirdly. In reality, Calypso had felt a small, unexpected tug at her heart because of his niceness but she tried to cover it by shaking her head.

“Nothing. Sorry. I was just thinking about something. But I should get back to work, the coffee isn’t going to serve itself.”

“I guess it isn’t. Well, talk to you later,” the guy said but from the corner of her eye Calypso could see that he was probably wondering what had just happened there.

Chapter 4

Time passed, but some things didn’t change:

“So… when will you finally reveal your name to me? We’ve known each other for several weeks now and you’re still being so mysterious,” Calypso noted one day when the ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ showed up at the coffee shop again. Like earlier, she had asked her coworkers if she could have her break so she could talk with him and they had accepted her request but given each other funny glances behind Calypso’s back, as if saying ‘we know what you are doing here’.

“I will do that when you finally call me Bad Boy Supreme instead of Johnny or Ben or David or whatever fake name you come up with each time.” He just smirked at her and Calypso 100% expected him to keep his word.

“No. That’s the one thing I cannot do, you weirdo,” she said stubbornly.

“Alright, then no can do,” he teased.

Calypso did continue asking him about other things, though, and got some answers.

“Why did you want to become a mechanic? Is it just because cars are cool or did you have some deeper reason for that?”

“Actually, my dream is to become a mechanical engineer so I get better tools to invent - and fix - all sorts of things, not just cars, but at the moment I don’t have enough money to go to college. So, I’m working to save up for that too, not just for the car. I know, sounds like a mission impossible. I will have to work about ten thousand years to save that much. I’ve just… always enjoyed building and fixing things, ever since I watched my mum do that when I was a kid… It’s in my blood.”

“Oh… then your mum must be proud that you want to follow her footsteps!” Calypso said gently, but the guy’s expression darkened.

“Yeah… maybe she would be… if she was still alive.”

“Oh no!” Calypso covered her mouth with her hands when she realized her mistake. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed…”

“It’s OK,” he sighed. “I’m starting to get used to it.”

There was a moment of silence before Calypso asked: “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but… when did it happen?”

The guy looked at her darkly. “I was 8 then… So over 10 years ago. Not exactly breaking news anymore. Been going from home to home since then until I got old enough to live on my own; my dear dad didn’t care about me enough to keep me.”

“Wow… I’m sorry… You just give me such a happy and outgoing picture of yourself that I couldn’t imagine… ugh, just ignore me, please. I need to stop rambling now,” Calypso said with embarrassment, blushing slightly.

The guy surprised both Calypso and himself by what he did next: he reached for her hand to reassure her.

“Hey, relax. I only told that to you because you seem like someone I can trust. Not a lot of those people in my life. But yeah, there’s no need to be embarrassed; you couldn’t have known.”

“Oh… I guess I should be honored then. Since you were honest with me, I’m gonna be too: I didn’t exactly have the best of childhoods either. My parents fought a lot before breaking up and my dad… he could be scary when he wanted to. He had to get things done his way and if he didn’t like something… he’d let us know, loudly. I guess some of my temper issues may stem from there.”

“Still thinking about that time when you yelled at me?” the guy asked. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not afraid of you.”

“That’s good to hear,” Calypso laughed nervously, tugging a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Anyway, when my parents got divorced, my father insisted I live with him instead of mum and that did not end up going well. His idea of good parenting was buying me expensive things I didn’t care about, while I could tell that in reality he couldn’t care less if I was there or not. He just wanted to humiliate my mother. I ended up moving out as early as possible, but that’s a whole other story…”

“And that’s why you’re working here now?” The Bad Boy Supreme wanted to know. “Because you desperately needed money? I mean, no offense, but I get a vibe from you that you don’t actually enjoy working here.”

Calypso glanced at her surroundings, making sure none of her coworkers and especially not the manager could hear her answer. Then she sighed. “Yeah. You’re not wrong. I did have some dreams when I was younger but… it’s like you said, it would take me about ten thousand years to be able to afford studying. The rent here isn’t free and I don’t even want to think about the college tuitions. Obviously my dad could afford them easily but I’m not going to stoop so low that I would ask him. I am not going to owe anyone, especially not him.”

The ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ gave her an approving half smile. “I see we have something in common, after all. We both have dreams that seem to be hard to achieve. And I definitely wouldn’t want to owe to my no good old man either. And families… Those can be bitches. But not something bad if not something good; thanks to my round around the country I feel like I may have finally found a place where I could maybe picture myself staying more than just a few months. The coffee here isn’t half bad and the people are decent too.” He winked at her, and she knew his words were actually quite a big compliment from him. Despite that, she pretended to be annoyed by his comment, putting her hands on her waist.

“Not half bad? I don’t even remember you ordering coffee since that little incident – and you didn’t get your coffee back then - so how can you have an opinion on it?”

“That’s the thing, I didn’t get my coffee so that’s why it’s only ‘not half bad’ and not the ‘best coffee I’ve ever had’” he smiled at her smugly. “However, the hot chocolate was definitely worth getting yelled at.”

Calypso hated how contagious his smile was but she couldn’t help but smile back at him. “I’m glad to hear that.”

They were silent for a moment before the guy started: “Hey, listen… would you like to…”

His question was interrupted, though, because a customer nearby started causing ruckus, claiming the tea water was too cold (even though Calypso knew her coworkers always made sure it was hot enough) and the piece of cake was dry (even though someone had cut fresh pieces like half an hour ago) and she wanted her money back. Reyna was serving her and trying to politely say that she was sorry the customer felt that way and that they’d make sure to do better the next time, but the customer wouldn’t listen. Calypso could tell Reyna’s patience was running thin so she decided to finish her break then and there and go to help, but she had only managed to stand up from her chair when she noticed that she wasn’t the only one wanting to defend the honor of their coffee shop.

“Hey, you,” ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ said loudly, addressing the woman who had complained. “Don’t like, don’t buy. It’s as simple as that. There are other places where you can get your low fat cake with extra cream on the top that will surely match your interests better.”

The woman just glared at him, going slightly red from her face, before dramatically turning away and leaving the coffee house. Calypso sighed of relief, thankful that nothing worse happened.

“That wasn’t really necessary, you know,” she tried to scold her companion but the attempt was half hearted. “I’m sure Reyna would have been able to handle it.”

“Oh, yeah, I don’t have a doubt about that,” he said. “But sometimes it’s fun to let those privileged douches hear it. You guys are just too polite. Well, most of the time. I guess some customers do have a way to crawl under your skin but that requires special talent.” He grinned at her in a way that may have tried to be flirty but failing.

“Oh, yeah, a special talent indeed,” Calypso confirmed, throwing her long braid over her shoulder. “I’m the epitome of patience, as we know. Well, I should get back to work now; my coworkers are probably waiting for me already.” She looked at Reyna apologetically but she didn’t seem to mind one bit. “It was nice talking to you, though, Raymond.”

“That’s the best you can come up with? C’mon, you can do better than that,” ‘Raymond’ protested but waved her a goodbye with a big smile on his face. Calypso gave him a shy smile back.

#caleo #leo valdez #calypso #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #trials of apollo #my fics

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mythicalsecretsanta · 4 years

Text

12 Days of Christmas... Almost (E)

This gift is for: Cal (AKA @mythicalamity) Surprise! Keeping this secret from you for the last month wasn’t easy! Thank you for being the kindest, most loving friend I’ve ever had in this fandom and for being a pretty spectacular person in the real world as well. Merry Christmas, Cal! From your Secret Santa, @fanbabble

Link to AO3, or read below:

The Holiday season was in full swing at Mythical, as much as it could be at least. The virus had put quite a damper on festive activities across the world and Myth Ent was no exception. There were lights strung up and a Christmas tree, but there would be no company Christmas party this year, no cookie exchange, no getting together at each other’s homes for dinner parties or gift swaps. The mood in the office was a little low and Link found himself looking for ways to encourage positivity and the good feelings of the season. That’s why when Stevie suggested a secret santa gift exchange, Link took the idea and ran with it. Employees would play secret santa leaving their secret giftee presents for the 12 days leading up to Christmas. Not only would this game bring a bit of fun into the office, but it could also be done safely as social distancing was a literal part of the rules. You couldn’t reveal your identity to your giftee until the final day of the exchange. It was perfect!

Rhett was less than excited about the prospect. He complained to Link about not wanting to participate. He was nervous he wouldn’t know what to get the person he chose or how to keep the secret. Rhett’s enneagram three-ness was getting in the way of him enjoying himself again. He was worrying too much about impressing the person he got, rather than letting himself relax and have fun with the idea. Link finally convinced his friend to participate.

“How would it look if one of the owners of the company didn’t play along?”

“Fine. But if my gifts turn out to be duds and ruin someone’s Christmas it’s your fault!” Rhett said as he stood to join Link and walk down the hall to the Mythical kitchen for the name exchange.

Chase mixed the names of everyone in a Santa hat. The in-office folks would be in one drawing and the staff who were working virtually would draw amongst themselves. In all there were about 15 names in the hat that Chase held shut in his grasp. The group took turns reaching their hands in to pick a slip of paper with their giftees name written on it. The PAs went first, followed by the camera men, then the directors, followed by Chase, Stevie, and finally Rhett and Link.

Rhett stuck his hand into the Santa hat. His gaze was trained on the little opening.

“No peekin’!!” Link smacked his arm and scolded him.

“I’m not! Besides There’s literally only one name left in the hat, Link.”

The kitchen filled with the crew’s laughter.

“Can’t exactly pick and choose who I want, man.”

Rhett glanced at his friend and then looked at the little slip of paper. The apples of his cheeks became more obvious as a small smile spread across his face. He grasped the paper close to his chest and then tucked it into the pocket of his jeans.

Everyone in the kitchen celebrated the exchange with a cupcake whipped up by the Mythical Kitchen and then retreated back to their personal space to finish up the day’s work.

Before the office door was even fully shut Link was in Rhett’s space.

“Who’d ya get?”

“What?! I’m not telling you. It’s not fair.” Rhett sat down in his office chair and opened his laptop.

“Come on, Bo. Tell me. I got…”

“STOP” Rhett put his hands up to his ears as if to block out what Link was about to reveal. “I don’t wanna hear it. Let’s do this right. Keep it a secret.”

“Since when do you care about keeping this kinda stuff secret? You usually can’t wait to tell me everything and anything,” Link was teetering on the fine edge between annoyed and amused.

“Well this year is different. If this is one of the only ways the company gets to celebrate then I wanna do it right.”

“Fine,” Link huffed. He flopped down on the leather couch and draped his arm over his eyes. “You don’t want to tell me, that’s your business, but don’t come begging for gift ideas when you come up dry.” And with that healthy dose of snark the smaller man settled in for an afternoon nap.

The next day Link walked into their office and threw his jacket over the back of the gray chair that sat by the door. He put his backpack on the floor by his desk and was just about to head to the office kitchen for a cup of coffee when he noticed a box sitting by his desk lamp. He picked it up and examined it.

“Dang, my santa must get here early.”

It was only 7 AM and Link had just arrived to an empty building. The box was wrapped in shiny green paper and tied with an elegant red bow. He turned it over in his hands looking for some kind of tag or label. When he found nothing, Link slipped the ribbon from the package and pulled off the lid. Inside was a perfect golden pear tucked into a pillow of soft fabric. Link wasn’t sure what to do with the gift so he sniffed it to confirm it was a real piece of fruit. He lifted the pear out of the box and saw that a small note was hidden underneath. He held the pear in one hand and opened the slip of paper with the other.

“On the first day of Christmas,

My true love gave to me,

A partridge in a pear tree”

-You may be a “sweet peach” but I think we’d make a great “pear” Love, Your secret admirer

Link read over the note three times before he could totally comprehend what it said. He turned it over to look for any kind of identifying mark or signature. There was nothing to be found. He blushed hard and tucked the note into his pocket. It had been a long time since he had had anyone in his life, much less a Love, but he knew no one at Mythical felt that way about him and even if they did it would be totally unethical to pursue anything. Link was sure it was just some kind of joke by one of the writers and tucked the green box into his backpack before heading off to get his coffee.

When Rhett came in half an hour later, he was all nervous energy and talking 90 miles a minute. He said it was because he had almost gotten into a car accident on the way in. He had found his Secret Santa gift sitting on the back of the toilet in the bathroom and showed it to Link.

“It’s gotta be Jordan, man,” Rhett said as he held out the bag for Link to inspect, “Who else would give me a bag of cotton candy?”

Link peeked inside the gift bag and said, “Seems kinda obvious, but it’s possible.” He couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander back to the little green box he had received and the love note that it contained.

“Earth to Link,” Rhett took the bag back and set it on his desk. “You alright man?”

Link shook his head to clear his mind and refocus on the man before him. “Oh yeah, sorry. Must need more coffee.” He held up his empty mug and headed toward the office door.

As he reached for the doorknob, Rhett asked quietly, “Did you get your first gift yet?”

Link paused and laughed without looking back, “Yeah, pair of socks. Womp womp,” then he headed out the door.

Over the course of the next few days, Link continued to receive themed gifts from his Secret Santa that left him giddy and baffled at the same time. The first two were silly, Turtle and Dove chocolates for Day 2 and three fried chicken legs for Day 3. They were both accompanied by notes that talked about how much the gifter liked Link and they were both signed “Love, Your secret admirer.” Link still wasn’t sure what to make of the declarations, but he played along and let himself feel special for the moment. Even if he was still convinced it was all a joke. Until Day 4 that is.

On Day 4 Link walked into the office late to find a small book tied up with a ribbon. “Native birds of the National Parks” The gift was incredibly thoughtful and one that he would definitely use on future adventures. A folded piece of paper was tucked inside the chapter about Denali National Park. It read,

“On the fourth day of Christmas,

My true love gave to me,

Four calling birds”

- Bird calls are beautiful, but the idea of calling you mine is even better. Love, Your secret admirer

Link opened the book again to the page about the birds of Denali. There was only one person he had ever told about wanting to visit the park covered in glaciers and snow. Rhett. Could his secret admirer be Rhett? Link’s head swam with the possibility.

He had been in love with his best friend for most of his life, but he had kept it hidden away out of fear of losing the one person in the world who was most important to him. Surely, Rhett was not the person who was his Secret Santa. Link felt a burst of warmth spread across his chest as he let himself entertain the idea for a moment. What would it be like to finally feel those arms around his body? To finally kiss Rhett’s lips? To own his heart as well as his friendship?

As he stood there lost in his own thoughts, the man in question came barreling into the office. Link stuffed the book into his desk drawer and turned quickly to face his friend.

“Hey, Rhett, how’s it going?”

Link did his best to maintain his cool. He watched his friend as he moved about the office getting settled for the day. He assessed his behavior for any clues or signs that he might be the “Secret Santa Secret Admirer.”

“Pretty good. I added some new reps to my workout and now my abs are killing me.” Rhett rubbed his hand across his stomach. His t-shirt pulled taught and drew Link’s eye to the spot. Link felt his breath catch from the promise of what was underneath. His eyes roamed over the broad chest and thick arms. The way the shirt sleeves hugged Rhett’s biceps was criminal. Link knew he would have to control his thirst better if he hoped to get any hints about what role Rhett actually played in all of this. He cleared his throat and got a hold of himself.

“What time did you get here this morning?” Link asked as casually as he could. He fiddled with the monitor on his computer to appear slightly uninterested in Rhett’s response.

“What? Just now. You saw me walk in.”

“I thought maybe you came in and left again.”

Rhett turned and opened his laptop. He busied himself with things on his desk while it booted up.

“Nope. Just rolled in.”

“Oh cool,” Link paused before adding, “How’s your secret santa going?”

Rhett reached for a pen and knocked his coffee mug off balance spilling yesterday’s brown stuff over his desk and onto his lap.

“Shit!”

Link jumped up and grabbed the roll of paper towels he kept by his desk. He pulled off a handful and held them out to Rhett.

“Can you clean this up for me, Buddyroll? I have to go over to wardrobe and find some different pants to wear or I’ll smell like an old coffee pot all day.” Rhett grabbed the towels and dabbed at the wet spot that stretched across his thighs.

“Yeah, go ahead. I got this.” Link began to mop up the spilled coffee as Rhett headed out the door. His interrogation would have to wait for another day.

Days 5 and 6 were once again oddly funny gifts. If Rhett was the secret admirer it would make sense because he was the funniest person Link knew. A lifetime of laughter with Rhett had been the tradeoff for hiding the fact that he loved the man immensely. The idea that his love might be returned was more than Link had ever let himself hope for.

The notes included with the gifts were just as tender as the previous ones. Day 5’s onion rings were accompanied by a slip that described Link as “more valuable than a golden ring” and day 6’s half dozen eggs had a note that read “You are a good egg, who makes my heart happy.”

Link enjoyed the sentiment, but nothing struck him as particularly suspicious. Day 7 was, however, a game changer.

That morning as Link walked past the dark studio a glimmer caught his eye. He set his backpack and Jade down and walked onto the GMM set where he found a string of origami paper birds strung together on a piece of gold silk ribbon. The swans were hanging across the back of the set from wall to wall. There must have been at least 50. Each bird’s wings was dipped in silver glitter and twinkled in the low light giving the set a magical air. Link stood back and took in the beauty.

When he looked closer he saw each swan was made of sheet music. Link held one small bird in his fingers gently and examined it. He would recognize those chords anywhere. It was Merle. These paper swans were made with sheet music of Merle Haggard’s song, “Always Wanting You.”

“This has to be a gift,” Link whispered to himself.

Link held his breath, afraid if he moved he would scare away the one idea he wanted to be true most in the world. That his secret santa was not only Rhett, but that the man was in love with him as well.

A larger piece of paper flapped at the end of the string of birds. Link grabbed it and saw that his name was indeed on the front of the folded slip. He opened it and read:

“On the seventh day of Christmas

My true love gave to me

Seven swams a swimming”

- Like Merle said, “Always wanting you, but never having you makes it hard to face tomorrow.” Love, Your Secret Admirer

Link couldn’t believe what he was reading. This had to be confirmation that Rhett was his secret admirer and secret santa. Jade sniffed at his shoes as if she were looking for the answer to a question he didn’t know. Link gently took the chain of birds down, gathered his things, and headed back to his office.

When he opened the door, he was surprised to see the big man sitting at his desk already. He was speaking loudly on the phone about a new project they were working on.

“No, damn it. I don’t want to cut that part! I purposely included it to help the flow of the story.”

Rhett’s voice bounced off the brick walls. His tone was harsh. Link thought better of questioning him right now and tucked the birds into his backpack. He sat back on the couch and opened his laptop for the day. Jade snuggled into Link’s side and he petted her head mindlessly. His thoughts were only of Rhett. As he waited for his computer to boot up, Link watched Rhett.

“It has to be him. Who else would use Merle?” Link thought to himself, “Oh you’re being an idiot. Everyone knows you love Merle Haggard, dummy. It could be anybody.”

Link sunk down into the leather cushions and sulked. Not knowing for certain was exhausting. Only 5 more days to figure out this mystery. He glanced down at the paper swans one more time and smiled softly.

Day 8 brought a bottle of chocolate milk and a note that read, “You’re the milk to my cookie”

Link drank it in front of Rhett at lunch to see if he would get a reaction. Nothing. Well, with the exception of the way those green eyes sparkled when he belly laughed at a joke or the way Rhett put his hand on Link’s back as they left the office to head to record an episode of Ear Biscuits. Link noticed those things, but he couldn’t be sure if they were a reaction to the milk or to being close to Link in general.

Link had caught Rhett in a lingering gaze more than once since the Seven Swans gift. And when they were alone together it felt like a spark was fizzing between the two of them. Something was going on, Link was sure of it. He just needed a little more proof before he could confront Rhett. His friendship was entirely too valuable to risk on an assumption.

On day 9, Link climbed into the driver’s seat of his car. He reached down to grab his sunglasses and was surprised to find something extra resting on the console. It was an old school cassette tape. Just like the kind he and Rhett used to exchange in high school. They would spend hours making the tapes and then driving down the back roads listening to their creations and singing at the top of their lungs. If he was honest, those times were when he first fell in love with Rhett.

Link flipped the cassette over in his palm. On the outside of the case where the album art would usually be, was his name. Link immediately recognized it as Rhett’s handwriting. He opened the case and found a piece of paper folded in fourths tucked inside. It read:

“On the ninth day of Christmas

My true love gave to me

Nine ladies dancing.”

- I kept trying to find a funny pun for this day, but all I could focus on was singing these songs with you as we drove down the highway in North Carolina. I’ve tried to hold out to the end of the 12 days, but this secret is an old one and I don’t want to keep quiet anymore. If you feel the same, find me in the office at work and tell me. If not just toss this cassette in the trash and pretend it never happened. Love, Your Secret Admirer

Link was quiet for a moment and then, “Rhett! It’s Rhett! He loves me!” Link yelled at nobody in particular. Just saying the words out loud made him feel less like it was all a dream and more like it was real life. He threw his things into the passenger’s seat. In his flustered state he tried to check the time on his sunglasses and put his phone on his nose. He shifted into reverse and sped down the block.

Link’s heart was pounding in his chest. He was breaking every speed limit on the way into Burbank, but he did not care. Let a cop try and stop him now, nothing could keep him from getting to Rhett. Link pulled into the parking lot in record time and he bolted out of his car and through the studio doors. He was running at full speed back to the office he shared with Rhett. His Rhett. Link took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

The office was empty. Where was he? Link knew he didn’t pass him on the way through the building. He stood still for a moment and wrung his hands trying to think of what to do next. Just when he was starting to worry that Rhett had panicked and ran, he heard footsteps coming down the stairs of their loft.

Link watched as Rhett appeared slowly, first feet, then legs, torso, and finally that glorious head of hair.

“Link…”

Rhett barely got the word out before the smaller man was launching himself across the office and into his arms. He melted into the embrace and pulled Link tighter against him. They took just a moment to look into each other’s eyes before their lips met. The kiss was strong and full of promise. Link opened his mouth to deepen the kiss and the passion kicked in. Rhett lifted Link up with his hands under the smaller man’s thighs and carried him to the couch.

They pressed heated kisses into skin and hair. Marking their love on the other’s body wherever they could find purchase. Hands roamed pulling hair and grabbing biceps. And when Rhett laid Link down on their couch and pressed his body to the cradle of Link’s hips there was no denying that both men were hard with desire already.

Link gasped with the sensation of being so close to Rhett. The feeling of his hard cock pressed against Rhett’s made his head swim and he pulled back to catch a breath. Rhett took the opportunity to say something he’d been holding in for decades.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Each declaration was punctuated with a kiss. Link’s collar bones, his neck, his temple.

Link pulled Rhett close and whispered into his ear, “I’ve loved you my whole life.”

It was all the permission Rhett needed. He worshiped Link’s body and rocked against him until they were both finishing in their jeans like teenagers. Sticky and satisfied the pair laid together on the couch exchanging lazy kisses and gentle touches. Trying to make up for all the lost time they denied themselves.

Link was half asleep and half in awe of the way Rhett looked. He laid silently and listened to Rhett as he said, “I can’t believe it worked. I thought for sure you’d throw the cassette away.”

Link ran his fingers through Rhett’s curls gently.

“You doubted me? Haven’t you figured it out yet, Bo? All you have to do is be the brave one and I’ll follow your lead.” He placed a kiss on Rhett’s tshirt right about his heart. “Thanks for being the brave one.” Rhett kissed the top of Link’s head and grunted in affirmation.

Link snuggled into Rhett’s chest and closed his eyes. Just as he was about to doze off the smaller man popped up and looked Rhett in the eye.

“Don’t think just because you love me, you’re getting out of giving me gifts. I have three days left and I want my secret presents.” Link flashed his crooked grin and poked at Rhett’s side.

Rhett let out a booming ho-ho-ho laugh before pulling Link back down against his chest.

“You can have anything you want, Link. Diamonds, rubies. I don’t need any presents though because I’ve already got the most valuable gift of the season… you.”

#mythical secret santa 2020 #type: fic #rating: E #gift swap #rhink #submission

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