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cowboybeepboop · 26 days

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Desire

“Anything you want, baby,” he murmurs, his voice strained with desire. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x fem! Reader

Genre: Friends to lovers, romantic smut

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: Your feelings for Jake resurface after you tried to push them away, leading to an extremely intimate night with your best friend.

a/n: I really hope there's still an audience for Top Gun Maverick smut because I really loved writing for Hangman and Rooster. Also, I’m currently working on the requests in my inbox but as always feel free to send any my way! I hope you enjoy <3

You're best friends with Jake, in fact you're the only one who he doesn't seem to have an attitude with. Working at The Hard Deck allows you to see him even more frequently, which you truly enjoy.

You know not to get too attached to him, you know how he is with women, you know that given the chance he would simply fuck you and leave your life forever. So of course you’ve entirely given up on the chance of ever being anything more than just his friend, his best friend.

The doors swing open with Mav and his team bounding in, he greets Penny, glancing over at you as you lean over a table obviously lost in thought.

“What are all of you doing here? I’m not even open yet,” she starts to scold but Maverick brushes her comment off.

“I thought you could make an exception for us,” he shoots her a sly grin and she rolls her eyes. Hangman gives you a gentle pat on the back as he passes you, saying a soft hello.

Phoenix chuckles as she stands in front of you, “Hey Y/N,” you groan in response.

“Hey, bagman.” Phoenix addresses the blond who's standing at the pool table, “What's up with Y/N?” Hangman turns toward Phoenix and raises an eyebrow in response to her question. He didn't seem particularly interested in the conversation, but his attention was piqued nonetheless.

"Hm? Oh, Y/N? What about her?" he said, leaning against the pool table with a nonchalant tone.

“I mean, just look at her. She looks like she's got something on her mind.” she says, nodding in your direction. Their gazes fall on you, watching as you wipe the same place over and over. He approaches you with a frown on his face, clearly noticing your distracted state.

He stands in front of you, his arms folded across his chest, and observes you silently. "You look like you're in another world, sweetheart," he finally says in a low voice, tilting his head to get a better look at your face.

You glance up at him, letting out a soft sigh. “Yeah, something like that.” you mutter.

“Well, don't just say that and not give me the details.” he raises an eyebrow, watching the way you look away. Something was definitely on your mind, he could tell by the look on your face alone. He knew you all too well, and your usual mood was certainly not this solemn.

He leaned down a bit, making sure he was in your field of vision again, his arms still crossing his chest. “Come on, you can tell me. What's going on?” he prodded, a hint of concern in his voice.

“It’s nothing,” your expression softens as you toss the rag into the red bucket under the counter.

“Oh, really now?” he says with a doubtful tone. He knew you were lying straight to his face, you were usually a pretty terrible liar. He leans against the counter a little bit, keeping his eyes on you. “I know there’s something going on in that pretty little head of yours. So spill it.” He spoke in a firm tone, trying to get you to open up to him.

“It's just,” you purse your lips as you choose your words carefully, making sure he doesnt find out you're talking about him. “Just some guy, has me distracted.”

“A guy?” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. There was something off about the way you spoke, like you were intentionally being vague. But his curiosity quickly shifted into jealousy as you mentioned you were distracted by another guy.

His arms tensed across his chest as he leaned a little closer towards you. “Who is this guy? Is he bothering you?” he asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice. He didn’t like the idea of someone else capturing your attention, let alone making you distracted.

“Don’t worry your pretty head over it.” you tease him, your mood becoming a bit more lighthearted.

He rolled his eyes at your teasing, a small hint of a smile appearing on his face. But he was still determined to figure out who this other guy was, who was taking your attention away from him.

He pushed off the counter, moving to stand in front of you so that you were now face to face. “Come on, spill it. Who is this guy?” he said, a hint of insistence in his voice.

“I don’t want to make you jealous.” There was a hint of a smirk on his face as you mentioned making him jealous. He knew you were teasing him, but his competitive nature couldn’t resist the challenge.

“Oh, you think I’d get jealous?” he said, a hint of mock arrogance in his tone. “I don’t get jealous, sweetheart.” you think for a second, realizing that maybe getting advice from the man who's bothering you so much, might actually be your best option.

“Fine,” you pull yourself up on the counter, sitting on the edge in front of him. “He’s an ass sometimes, all he cares about is getting laid so I know I need to stay away. But.. I just can’t stop thinking about him.” you sigh.

Hangman looks a bit surprised by your admission, he wasn’t expecting you to be so blunt about the situation. He wants to tell you to forget about the guy and focus your attention on him instead, but he knows he doesn’t have any claim over you.

He leans against the counter next to you, his arms resting across his chest once again. “Sounds like a player, why bother with him?” he asks, trying to sound indifferent.

“I don't know, it’s just that he's always on my mind.” you lean back on your palms, “I guess that's why I’m so distracted today.” He can see the hint of frustration and confusion in your expression, it was clearly bothering you that this guy was constantly invading your thoughts.

He’s silent for a moment, his mind racing with different thoughts and feelings. But eventually he speaks, his voice low and firm. “You can do so much better than some player,” he says with a slight scoff, “You don’t need a guy like him in your life.”

Your eyes wander across his face as you sigh, “I know..” your voice trails off. He looks down at you, noticing the way your eyes are wandering across his face. He can see the hint of disappointment in your expression, as you admit that you know you can do better.

He steps a bit closer to you, his eyes never leaving your face. “So why bother with him then? Why waste your time and energy thinking about a guy who doesn’t deserve you?"

“I should get back to work.” you smile softly at him, hiding the frustration at his admission. He didn’t want you to go, he wasn’t ready to let the conversation end just yet. The way you smiled softly at him, a hint of frustration in your eyes, made him want to keep talking to you and find out more.

But he knew you had a job to do, and he didn’t want to come off as needy or overbearing. He nods in response to your statement, forcing a small smile back.

“Y/N,” Penny smiles warmly at you, “How about you call it a day?” she presses her hand to your back.

“Are you sure?” you question her, she simply nods at you. You find your way over to the pool table watching the pilots play.

The pilots are in the middle of a game of pool, laughing and teasing each other as they take turns shooting. Hangman in particular is clearly enjoying himself, relishing in the competitive atmosphere. He knows he's good at pool, and he's not afraid to show it.

He’s the first to notice your approach, and his demeanor changes slightly. He glances at you, a hint of a cocky smile on his face. “Finished working already?” he teases, his eyes watching you intently.

“Yeah, but my ride won't be here for a couple more hours.” you bite down on your bottom lip, gazing at him.

He steps even closer to you, his gaze unwavering. “If you don't want to keep waiting, I can drive you home.” his voice lowered as he stares down at you.

“Actually that sounds like a great idea,” you smile up at him, thankful you won’t have to stay any later.

He can't help but feel satisfied that you agreed so easily to his offer, pleased that he'll have more time alone with you. He grins back at you, his arms still crossed in front of his chest.

"Alright then, let's get going." he says, jerking his head towards the exit. He places a hand on your lower back, guiding you towards the doors. You wave goodbye to Penny and Mav who are deep in a conversation.

“Do you maybe have time to watch a movie with me?” you fiddle with your fingers, “I mean, it's been a while since we've hung out just the two of us.”

He listens to your question, his mind racing with different thoughts, but he quickly shoves them down. He would do anything to spend more time with you. He pretends to act a bit indifferent, but his voice betrays him as he replies.

"Sure, we can watch a movie." he shrugs, trying not to seem too eager. "Got one in mind?" you reach for the handle of his passenger side door.

“Hm, we could watch anything. I just want to be with you,” you admit carelessly while getting into the car.

He can’t help but feel a flutter in his chest at your admission, his heart races a little bit faster as he watches you get into the car. He quickly gets into the driver’s seat, trying to act like your words don’t affect him.

“Anything, huh?” he teases, glancing over at you quickly as he starts the car. “Even a cheesy romance movie?” he smirks, knowing how much you love them.

You gasp in response, “Obviously, you *know* they're my favorite.” his mind goes back to the discussion you had earlier as you smile at him.

He lets out a soft chuckle at your response, “Of course I do, I can’t forget your obsession with them.” he teases, his eyes staying focused on the road as he drives. But his mind starts to wander again, thinking about your earlier confession.

As his mood shifts slightly, he glances over at you with a hint of a frown on his face. “So, uh, this guy you were talking about,” he says, breaking the silence in the car. “How… how serious are you about him?”

“Hm?” your eyebrows furrow softly. His grip on the steering wheel tightens ever so slightly at your reaction, his eyes staring straight ahead as he continues to drive.

He can’t help the pang of jealousy that runs through him, he glances over at you, his face trying to maintain a nonchalant expression. “I just mean, you said you didn’t want to get in trouble with a guy.” he says, his tone guarded.

“I don’t know.” you sigh looking out the window.

His heart does a backflip at your words, he tries to maintain a neutral expression, but he can’t help the small smirk that appears on his face. “So, you’re single, huh?” he teases, a hint of hope in his voice.

“Mhm, why do you ask?” you question him. He continues to drive, keeping his eyes focused on the road as he answers your question.

“Just wondering,” he replies casually, trying to feign indifference. But he can’t help the nervous energy that’s building inside of him. He glances over at you, his gaze raking over your face thoughtfully. “You know, I’ve been single for a while too,” he adds, an underlying hint in his voice.

“You’re always single,” you retort, “you prefer hook-ups over relationships, right?” you tease him.

He lets out an annoyed huff, not expecting you to tease him like that. His face flushes slightly as he remembers all the past hookups he’s bragged about to you, in an attempt to make you jealous. “Hey,” he says with false annoyance in his voice, “I can be in a relationship if I wanted to.”

“And would you want to?” you question as he pulls into the parking lot of your building.

He parks the car, his heart racing slightly at your question. He turns to look at you, hesitating for a moment. The thought of being in a relationship, with you, was something he’d fantasized about for a while. But he’s also a coward, terrified of being vulnerable and getting hurt.

He takes a deep breath, trying to maintain a casual composure. “Maybe, if it was the right person.” he finally responds, his eyes searching your face for a reaction. You nod in response, slightly disappointed with his answer.

“Who’s your right person?” your voice is quiet. He’s taken aback by your question, the subtle disappointment in your voice stabbing at his heart. He glances down, his mind racing with different thoughts and emotions.

He takes a deep breath, his eyes shifting back up to meet yours. His heart pounds even faster as he musters up the courage to answer you. “Well.. I think you already know.” your eyes widen at his implication, feeling his hand moving to cup your cheek.

He can see the surprise in your eyes as he cups your cheek gently, his thumb stroking your skin softly. His heart is racing as he looks down at you, his eyes searching your expression for a reaction.

He takes a deep breath, gathering the courage to speak. “Do you… do you feel the same way?” he asks, his voice soft and nervous.

“Jake.. I.” your heart races as your words get stuck in your throat. His chest clenches as you struggle to speak, his stomach in knots as he waits for your response. His hand is still gently caressing your cheek, his eyes never leaving your face.

He swallows hard, trying to maintain his composure. “Please, just tell me. I need to know.” he says, his voice quiet but firm. Finding yourself speechless, you respond by pressing your lips to his.

He’s taken by surprise by your action, his eyes widening for a split second before he responds to your kiss. A wave of relief and happiness washes over him as he feels your lips against his, his heart racing with excitement and disbelief as he realizes the asshole you were talking about earlier just so happens to be him.

He moans softly against your mouth, his hand moving to the back of your head, his fingers burying into your hair as he kisses you back, passionately and hungrily. You lean closer to him, your hands cupping his cheeks as he slips his tongue into your mouth.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue twirling with yours. He can’t believe this is actually happening, that you feel the same way he does.

He pulls you closer, his hands gripping your hips and guiding you onto his lap. He moans against your lips, his hands roaming down your sides, his touch both gentle and desperate at the same time.

“Jake,” you whisper against his lips, feeling his bulge pressed against your heat. He shudders hearing his name leaving your lips, his eyes darkening with desire for you. He can’t help but moan softly as he feels your body pressed against his, his hips instinctively bucking up slightly in response.

He pulls you even closer, his hands gripping your thighs, his lips trailing down your neck. “Sweetheart,” he breathes, “I want you so damn bad.” you moan quietly, leaning into his touch.

“We need to go inside,” your voice and gaze are filled with desire. His heart races at your moan, his body aching with need for you. He nods in agreement, his eyes filled with the same desire.

“You’re right, we should go.” he mutters, his hands roaming over your hips, unable to keep himself from touching you.

He lifts you off his lap, opening the car door and practically dragging you out with him. He shuts the door behind you before pulling you towards the building’s entrance, his eyes filled with impatience and lust.

He presses you against the wall of the elevator, his hands roaming over your body, exploring every inch of exposed skin. His lips trail down your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses in their wake.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” he mutters against your skin, his voice thick with desire. He kisses and nips at your neck, unable to get enough of you, your soft moans fill the cramped space.

He can’t help but smirk to himself as he hears your moans, his heart racing as he realizes he’s the one making you feel this way. He feels a surge of pride and satisfaction knowing he’s the one who has your heart racing and your body yearning.

“Jake, fuck, you’re driving me crazy.” The ding of the elevator pulls you both out of your trance as the doors open, revealing the empty hallway. He grabs your hand, practically dragging you towards your apartment.

You fumble with the doorknob as you unlock it, feeling his desperate hands around your waist.

He can't keep his hands off you, his fingers tracing the exposed skin of your waist as you fiddle with the keys. Impatience floods him, his desire growing with every second.

He presses himself against you from behind, his lips finding your neck once again. "Hurry up," he mutters against your skin, his breath hot against your ear. "I need you, right now."

You pull the door open, smirking at his impatience. He traps you between his arms, your back pressed against the closed door, his body pressed firmly against yours. He gazes down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and possessiveness.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he mutters, his voice hoarse and low. He leans down and captures your lips in a fierce and passionate kiss, his body desperate to get closer to you.

You press against him, your palms against his lower abs, as you lead him to your bedroom blindly. He follows your lead through the apartment, his lips never leaving yours. His body is on fire, the feeling of your hands on his abs driving him wild.

He pushes you against the doorframe of your bedroom, his body pinning you to it as he continues to kiss you deeply and hungrily. He can't get enough of your mouth, his tongue tasting every inch of it. He slips his knee between your thighs, pressing into your sensitive pussy. You moan into his mouth, your eyebrows scrunching in pleasure.

His knee presses against your sensitive core, his tongue exploring your mouth greedily. He can hear your moans, your breath hitching as he presses into you. He feels a surge of satisfaction as he knows he’s the one who makes you feel this way.

He nips at your bottom lip, his hands roaming down your sides, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. “You like that, sweetheart?” he mutters, his voice low and hoarse. “You want more?”

“Please,” you grasp onto his sides, moaning desperately, “I need more please.”

He can hear the desperation in your voice, your fingers gripping his sides. His heart aches at your plea, his body responding instantly to your need.

He moans against your mouth in response, his hands roaming down to your thighs. In one swift motion, he lifts you up with ease, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you into your bedroom.

He gently but firmly presses you against the plush comforter of your bed, his eyes devouring every inch of your body. The room is bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting shadows across your flushed cheeks and the passionate hunger in his gaze. You can feel the heat emanating from his body, and it sends shivers down your spine.

With a low growl, he starts to peel away the layers of fabric that separate his skin from yours. His rough hands glide over your smooth flesh, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Each piece of clothing that falls away reveals more of your beauty to him, and he can't help but moan in appreciation. His eyes are locked onto yours, watching the way your pupils dilate with every touch, every kiss.

He nips at your earlobe before tracing the line of your jaw with his teeth, making you squirm under him. His hands are everywhere, exploring the curves of your body, learning every dip and peak that makes you gasp. His kisses become more fervent, his teeth grazing your neck as he sucks soft hickeys into your skin. You can feel the pressure build, the promise of bruises that will be a secret between the two of you.

Your breath comes in pants as he kisses down your chest, his tongue swirling around your hardened nipples. You arch your back, pushing your breasts closer to his eager mouth, your hands tangling into his hair. He groans, the vibration of his pleasure echoing through your body, making your core clench with need. His teeth graze the sensitive skin, and you can't help but bite down on your lip to stifle the moan that threatens to escape.

His mouth continues to travel downward, leaving a trail of hot kisses down your stomach. His eyes never leave yours, the hunger in them growing with every inch closer he gets to your wet pussy. You can feel your heart pounding against your ribs, the anticipation of his touch making your skin tingle with excitement.

With surprising gentleness, he spreads your legs apart, his gaze lingering on the wetness that's already gathered there. He groans, his own arousal evident in the tightness of his pants. He leans in, his breath hot against your sensitive skin, and you can't help but moan out his name as he kisses the inside of your thigh.

The first suck is gentle, but firm, and you feel your pussy clench in response. He starts to suck dark hickeys along the sensitive skin, each one a little harder and closer to your center. Your hands tighten in his hair as he works his way closer to your core, the pleasure building with every mark he leaves.

“More, Jake, please!” you beg him, your voice desperate and needy. He chuckles against your skin, his tongue flicking against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. Your back arches as he takes your clit into his mouth, sucking hard. You moan loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls of your small apartment.

He inserts one finger inside you, feeling the slickness of your arousal. You gasp as he starts to pump in and out, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit, teasing and taunting it. His eyes watch yours as he reads every reaction, making sure to hit all the right spots.

You're close, so close, but he knows you can take more. He adds another finger, stretching you just right, the friction making your toes curl. Your eyes roll back into your head as he starts to pump faster, his mouth never leaving your clit. He feels you tighten around his fingers, the warmth of your orgasm approaching.

He keeps his rhythm steady, not letting up even when your moans turn into whimpers of pleasure. You're so close, your body begging for release. His eyes never leave you, the intensity of the moment causing your chest to heave with every ragged breath. And then it hits you, the orgasm crashing over you like a wave.

You scream his name, your body convulsing with pleasure. He keeps his mouth on you, drinking in your release, savoring the taste of your arousal. As the waves subside, he kisses up your body, his hands still holding you in place.

"You taste so good," he murmurs against your skin, his voice filled with satisfaction. He can feel your legs shaking as his own need for you grows with every second. He strips off his own clothes, his eyes never leaving yours, and then he's on top of you, his body pressing you into the mattress.

He positions himself at your entrance, his cock aching to be inside you. He looks into your eyes, searching for permission, and you nod eagerly. He takes a deep breath, then gently pushes in, feeling your warmth envelop him. You gasp as he stretches you, his eyes never leaving yours, watching for any signs of pain or discomfort.

As he’s fully sheathed in your wetness, he holds still for a moment, savoring the feeling of being connected to you so intimately. He starts to move, his hips rolling in a slow, torturous rhythm. Each time he thrusts into you, your eyes widen and a moan escapes your lips. He loves the way you react to him, the way your body moves with his.

He keeps his movements gentle, not wanting to overwhelm you, despite his own desperate need to claim you completely. His hands are everywhere, stroking your skin, feeling your curves, as he kisses along your jawline. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, your legs tightening around his waist.

Your thighs squeeze around him, your heels digging into his back as he continues to thrust into you, deeper and deeper. His movements become more urgent as he feels your body tightening around him, the walls of your pussy clenching down on his cock. You moan his name, urging him to go faster, harder, and he responds eagerly, his hips moving in a punishing rhythm.

You can feel yourself on the edge of another orgasm, your breaths coming in short gasps. Hangman’s eyes are locked on yours, watching the pleasure build in your gaze, feeling the power he has over your body. He can’t believe how beautiful you look, your face contorted in ecstasy, your eyes glazed over with lust.

Your body begins to spasm around him, your pussy clenching down hard. He groans, his hips stuttering as he feels you start to cum. The sensation is overwhelming, your muscles tightening around his cock like a vice, sending waves of pleasure through his body.

With a sudden jolt, he pulls out of you, unable to hold back any longer, his cock spurting cum onto your stomach with a loud groan. His eyes never leave your body, watching as your orgasm takes over, your pussy pulsing and gripping at nothing.

He's left breathless, his chest heaving as he looks down at you, his expression one of awe and satisfaction. He leans down, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, before his eyes drift down to the mess he's made of you.

He watches as your eyes flutter shut, your body trembling with the pleasure he’s given you. He can’t help but feel a sense of pride and satisfaction at the sight of your beautiful, sated body.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire and exhaustion. His eyes rake over your form, taking in every curve and plane, every mark he’s left behind.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he mutters, his fingers tracing the lines of his bites and hickeys on your skin.

“Now let's get you cleaned up, hm?” He lifts you up, wrapping his strong arms around you, and carries you to the bathroom. He turns on the shower, letting the water run until it warms up, before placing you gently under the spray.

He steps in after you, his body pressing against yours as he begins to lather your body with soap, his hands moving over your skin gently but possessively. You exhale contentedly as you press into his chest, relaxing in his embrace.

He holds you close, his arms encircling you, as the water cascades over your bodies. His hands run over your body, washing away the sweat and evidence of your passionate encounter. Jake nuzzles his face in your hair, inhaling your scent, a sense of peace washing over him. He murmurs sweet nothings in your ear, his voice low and soothing.

“You’re not just fucking around with me are you?” your voice is uneasy as your stomach twists with anxiety. He freezes, taken aback by your vulnerable question. He can hear the anxiety in your voice, and it pierces his heart.

He pulls away slightly, turning your body to face his, cupping your face gently in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes are intense but filled with understanding.

“No. No, sweetheart, I’m not just ‘fucking around with you’.” His voice is firm but tender. “What we did tonight, it meant something to me. I wouldn’t have done it otherwise. You mean way too much to me.” your eyes soften as his gaze into yours with sincerity.

“Good, because I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.” you bite down on your lip. He feels a rush of tenderness and protectiveness wash over him as he hears your sincere words. He pulls you closer, your wet bodies pressed against each other, his arms encircling you in a firm embrace.

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” he mutters against your hair, his voice filled with a mixture of vulnerability and possessiveness. “You’re all I want too, sweetheart. You have no idea how much I need you.”

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seumyo · 4 months

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BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 3:58

No amount of hectic schedules, exhausting patrols, rowdy villains, and never-ending legal paperwork could ever keep Bakugou from attending his daughters’ extracurricular activities—because he’d literally go through literal hell and back than to ever see a disheartened pout along with the silent treatment after he gets home from work.

You think he’ll ever miss any of his daughters’ milestones? Fuck no!

Bakugou insists on being at every event, his phone—and even an actual camera during a good day—in hand, his heart swelling with pride and unconditional love that makes his chest figuratively hurt; it might as well be a medical problem at some point.

Because, if anything, Bakugou Katsuki is a father first and a hero second.

“Shit, ‘m late. Have they started yet?”

He’s sweating as if he just used his explosions to propel himself in the air to get to you quicker, but, in truth, he sort of had to just run since the traffic on the highway today would’ve only angered and slowed him down. He left patrol to Halfie, who offered to take his shift, knowing how many times Bakugou covered for him when he was in his son’s piano recital.

“They just started doing warmups,” you answer. “Did you run? You’re drenched to the bone; you’re going to catch a cold if you don’t get changed into some dry clothes.”

“Hah, doubt it.” He snorts, though he does appreciate the thought of you bringing him a spare shirt for just-in-case purposes.

You're always the one who thinks ahead, aren't you? Bakugou knows he’s a very lucky man to have such a doting, caring wife that humbles him whenever he gets too focused on his pride. The balance that he didn’t know he needed!

Ignoring the gawking stares of the other parents—because it’s not everyday you see the Pro Hero Dynamight in mundane activities such as watching his kid take gymnastics’ lessons—he looks through the glass in search of his little princess.

Just as he saw her, his lips curled to that oh-so genuine smile, one that just said, “That’s my daughter, right there! Look at how awesome she is!”

Bakugou remembers how his parents were the same and how they were very supportive of his interests and hobbies, no matter how odd they may be for a five-year-old. How often do you see someone learning to take on both hiking and archery at the age of five? Bakugou was sure he learned most skills during his childhood that made him a firm hero in the field today.

“She has a bit of trouble with tumbling because of her tummy.”

“Yeah? And does that have somethin’ to do with my awesome cooking?” Bakugou replied smugly. “Besides, ‘ts just baby fat, and I’d prefer to see her like this than to see her thin but often sick.”

“Mhm, and she makes up for the cutest ending pose.”

“And her effortless splits. Have the coaches seen her do that?”

You shook your head. “Not yet,” you say, “but I think they’re about to do it—oh! Look, look!”

And he does; his phone’s camera is already recording his youngest daughter doing a perfect vertical split, while the other girls somewhat struggle to maintain a consistent posture.

“She’s a natural, hun.”

“She is,” you chuckle, “just like her Daddy to a certain extent.”

“Damn right, she is.”

Bakugou tries to hold back his laughter when your daughter once again attempts a forward roll with the guidance of the staff. Her tummy somewhat makes it a bit difficult for her to do so. The way she hesitates but then does the forward roll, albeit a little lopsided with a smile that shows her adorable tooth gap—it was safe to say that your daughter was over the moon with her gymnastics lessons.

It’s all too much for him to take.

And when all is over, he greets his daughter by picking her up and blowing raspberries on her neck that have her squealing in laughter before he insists that he’ll be the one to talk to the coaches about the upcoming schedules and the progress your daughter has made.

“Mr. Bakugou, she’s a good listener, and I believe that she’ll be moving onto the next class with the older children in no time,” they told him. “Has she received prior training before this one?”

“She’s also taking ballet lessons,” he answers, “but gymnastics is what she really likes. Ballet was just a compromise since your services weren’t available in our area at that time.”

“That’s wonderful to hear. It’s a joy to have her in class. I’ve already sent Dr. [Last Name] the schedules we offered, and we are looking forward to having your daughter in the upcoming lessons.”

The walk back to your car was light and quiet for a change. Your youngest daughter, Kusami, was out like a light in Bakugou’s arms, having worn herself out with socializing, rolling, doing splits, and whatnot the gymnastics’ instructors told her to do. And Bakugou was just letting the simple moment sink in because this is what he considers the most rewarding part of his day.

Time spent with his family.

Bakugou also warmed up to the thought of having to interact with other parents. He chatted with a single father earlier, whose daughter was the oldest in Kusami’s class. It was nice to converse with equally enthusiastic and supportive parents that you meet through your children's extracurricular activities.

“Let’s go through a drive-through; get Katsumi her usual order,” Bakugou murmurs, remembering how his oldest daughter, Katsumi, would’ve probably woken up from her nap by now and was probably anticipating her family’s return.

“Alright,” you nod. “Katsumi and Kusami have swimming lessons tomorrow at five in the afternoon, too. Do you think you’d get home that early?”

“Of course,” he answers. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

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aperrywilliams · 5 months

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I'm Sorry I Couldn't be Here for You Sooner (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Summary: You have one of the worst days in a long time at work. When Spencer returns from an assignment to the BAU and sees your current state, he must do something.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Frustration/Hurt/Comfort. Just a self-indulgent rant. A lot of cuss words. Spencer is the best boyfriend in the world.

A/N: I just need Spencer to hold me now.

-----

The clock ticks and ticks, but the time seems to stand still. Even if you don't know how long you have been looking at that piece of wood, plastic, and metal, it feels like an eternity.

In the distance, a voice keeps throwing out words and sentences to which you should pay attention. However, even if you tried, looking at the clock on the wall is still more interesting than hearing Hotch talking about new protocols for field agents.

Still lost in your head, you don't notice the meeting is over and people are starting to leave the room. Only when someone squeezes your forearm. It's JJ.

"Are you okay?" she asks, eyebrows furrowed. You look at her and blink a few times.

"Uh- yeah," you mumble.

Are you okay? No, you're not. But why bother others with that?

On second thought, this may be a chance to spill what's on your mind. JJ is usually a forthcoming and wise person.

"Well, actually-" you begin, but before saying anything else, JJ cuts you off.

"That's nice. Because I want to ask you if you can babysit Henry tomorrow night. Will invited me to a romantic dinner, and our babysitter is sick. Hope it doesn't make much trouble to you?" the blonde probes.

Okay, you didn't expect that.

Not in the mood to turn the subject back to you, you say yes, and after thanking you, JJ quickly leaves the conference room. Alone with your thoughts for a few seconds, you wonder if the tightness in your chest isn't an exaggeration. You decide to forget about it and go back to your desk.

Opening a folder with the information on the last case, you are ready to write your report. But not too so far on it, Emily approaches you.

"Hey, how are you?"

You have doubts about how to answer the question. A few minutes ago, when JJ asked, you lied to her, and she didn't even notice. Maybe it's good to be honest.

"Actually, not so good," you sigh. And Emily raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah? What happened?"

"I just don't know, I don't feel good," you try to explain. But you're not sure how to do it either.

"I'm sure it's something you can manage," Emily muses. "Look, whatever it is, have a drink when you get home today, relax a little, and I bet you'll be as good as new tomorrow!"

You open and close your mouth several times, trying to get a word out, but nothing comes to mind.

A drink and relax? Is that simple?

You let out a hum, and that's enough for a response to Emily.

After wishing you good luck, she heads down the hallway, presumably to Garcia's office.

It's clear that Emily didn't grasp your actual emotional state, but you don't blame her either.

The last case was hard for everyone, so there is no reason to take it personally.

Focusing on your report again, you expect the sour mood surrounding you to fade eventually.

To finish your paperwork, you need to make copies of the reports. So you get up and head to the copy machine. After carefully placing the papers in the tray, you press the start button. When you think it will start copying, the machine stops mid-scan. You frown, and after a few seconds of nothing, you press the 'start' button again. Nothing. You do it again. And again. It's not working, and you feel your blood running hot.

By pressing the button again and again, anger comes.

"What the fuck is wrong with you stupid fucking machine!"

It's not enough to swat with force the button panel; now you're kicking the machine out of pent-up frustration.

"Whoa, whoa, stop right there, pretty girl."

Morgan steps between you and the machine, putting distance with his palms. And that's when you realize your outburst. Panting and still with the heat of rage on your cheeks, you are not yet satisfied.

"What the fuck, Morgan. Now you're defending a fucking copy machine?!" You hiss. Derek narrows his eyes to assess your current state. He's seen you mad, but it usually goes away easily. You are not a dense person.

"Okay, what's wrong, pretty girl? Since when do you unleash your frustration with pretty boy on inanimate things?"

Pretty boy. Spencer. Your boyfriend. Today, your boyfriend is conducting a cognitive interview with a convict in a DC jail—Hotch's orders. You wish he were here.

Morgan knows you usually laugh at his jokes, and even when you are in a bad temper, they help to light the mood.

Not this time, though.

"Don't talk about Spencer or me like that!" You snarl. "He doesn't have to do with any of this!"

Morgan doesn't like you are talking to him. Folding his arms over his chest, he let out an unamused scoff.

"Come on, don't you think you're overreacting here? Was this whole outburst only for a joke? What, are you four years old?"

You want to keep yelling, but a lump forms in your throat that is making it difficult for you to speak or even breathe. Morgan doesn't even wait for you to say something.

"You know what?" Morgan continues. "If you cannot stand the pressure of this job right now, maybe you should go home."

With that said and shaking his head in disappointment, Dereks leaves you there.

Stumped. Frustrated. Broken.

All the anger from moments before turns into an almost uncontrollable urge to cry. What have you done to these people? They are supposed to be your friends, your family. They are supposed to understand you and support you when you need them. And now that it's the time, they've only ignored you, minimized your problems, and even questioned your worth. Maybe Derek is right, and you should go home.

Defeated, you're strolling to your desk when Hotch peaks out of his office and gestures you to come.

Great, just what you needed now.

When you walk into your boss's office, he is already sitting in his chair, sternly looking at you.

"I won't ask you what's wrong with you today because it's your private life. However, I must remind you we are all professionals on this team. If you need time off, you have the right to get it, but I will not tolerate disrespect, like when you are distracted as I give fundamental instructions. If you don't pay attention, it could affect your work in the field and even put the lives of innocent people at risk."

If you didn't feel trampled before, now you feel like a ton of dirt was dumped on you.

You know Hotch can be sharp with words, but his ultimate goal is always to look after the team. But why does it feel like you're not part of that team right now?

"Do I make myself clear?"

With no more energy left in your body, you just let out a 'yes, sir.' Without waiting for another response, he sends you back to your desk.

It's already noon when you resume your work. Your mind spins at a mile an hour, and although it's hard, you force yourself to concentrate enough to get your job done, so at least the salary they pay you is worth it.

Like a mollusk in its shell, you close yourself in that bubble and stop paying attention to your surroundings. It's your safe place—only you.

In the distance, you feel your coworkers come and go. Never do you look up. Time goes by, and your throat feels dry from not speaking for hours.

Before everyone starts planning lunch, you are already picking up your lunch bag.

Social interaction is out of the table, so you are secluded in the building roof where an improvisated garden has benches. You sit alone, and the breeze helps to steady your breathing. As you open your Tupperware, you tentatively plunge the fork into the almost-cold pasta.

Even so, you're better here than in the bullpen minutes ago.

-----

Spencer walks through the doors of the BAU. It's 2 in the afternoon, so hopefully, the team is still having lunch in the conference room. Slightly worried that he wouldn't be able to reach you when he wanted to let you know he was on his way, he assumed that you had a lot of work and that your phone was mute.

Arriving at the conference room, Spencer scans the place and immediately catches something odd. You are not there. JJ, Prentiss, Morgan, Rossi, and Hotch are, though.

With an eyebrow furrowed, he asks, "Where is she?"

His teammates perk their heads up.

"Hello to you, pretty boy," Morgan teases.

"How was the interview?" JJ asks.

"Did you eat? You still can sit with us," Prentiss offers.

"Did you get the interview done?" Hotch asks with a raised eyebrow.

Spencer gets an uneasy feeling about what's going on. He knows you weren't feeling so okay this morning, and even if he tried to convince you to take a sick day, you didn't let him.

"Neither of you responded my question," Spencer points, voice harsher than when he asked first.

"(Y/N)? I thought she went home," Morgan muses.

"Why would she do that?" Spencer questions, alarmed. "Something bad happened?"

"She said she was okay when I asked earlier," JJ explains. "Maybe she has an errand to do."

"She was way distracted when we were at the meeting in the morning. She didn't listen a thing of what I said," Hotch adds.

"And you sent her home?" Spencer directs his question to Hotch.

"No, I didn't. She didn't ask it either when I called her to my office."

"You called her to your office? Did you reprimand her?" Spencer asks in disbelief.

"Of course, I did it, Reid. She did something disrespectful to the team," Hotch defends.

"And considering her rage moment directed to the copy machine, maybe it's better if she went home," Morgan supplies.

"Why are you being so dramatic, Reid?" Emily questions, very confused about why Spencer is so upset.

Spencer huffs, frustration running in his veins.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now? Did you ever realize she wasn't doing okay and nobody took her seriously? Yeah, sure, she said she was okay, but did you really check on her? Did you really ask her what was wrong? Did someone listen to her?"

The people in the room go silent after Spencer scolds them.

Did they help in any way?

"You are unbelievable, and you call yourself profilers," Spencer huffs, turning to exit the room in search of you.

"What are you doing, Reid?" Hotch asks. No turning around to face his boss, and halfway out, Spencer replies.

"The thing you should have done in the first place. And I don't care if it doesn't fall protocol, I can give you my resignation letter tomorrow."

-----

When Spencer reaches the building roof and sees you sitting on one of the benches, he lets out a sigh of relief. He suspected you might be there, considering your things were still on your desk.

You can't see it since your back is turned. Your eyes look at the horizon without focusing on anything in particular.

The breeze is nice despite the November weather in Virginia.

Not wanting to scare you, Spencer slowly approaches you as he clears his throat. You turn around and see him standing a couple of meters away from you, but close enough to see your eyes red from crying.

You know he noticed it, and you avert his gaze.

You don't like the idea of looking vulnerable right now. The morning was already catastrophic enough to explain your current state of mind to Spencer.

Spencer is a man of many words. He is known for his diatribes on any topic at hand. So you expect some kind of rant or even some statistical data about what could be happening to you.

But contradicting his very nature, he just silently approaches, takes your hand to get you up from the bench, and pulls you into a tight, comforting embrace.

And for the first time all day, you feel like you can actually breathe, and your chest isn't tight anymore. Words are not necessary; just being held like that is enough for now.

Spencer kisses the top of your head lovingly.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be here for you sooner. I'm sorry you had such a horrible morning," your boyfriend laments.

You shake your head, still buried in his chest.

Tears fight to come out from the corners of your eyes, and you no longer want to hold them back.

"Let it out, baby. Just let them out."

And that's what you do. For the first time all day, you allow yourself to cry without holding back. Spencer has you the entire time, rubbing your back soothingly.

"I don't know why I feel so bad, Spencer. I don't understand," you muffle your words into his embrace.

"It's okay, love. You don't have to explain to me, or anyone for that matter. There are days when we are not okay, and it's completely valid. Never think you don't have the right to."

Hearing Spencer say that relieves some of the pressure on your head, but you can't help but think about your teammates' words throughout the morning.

Separating yourself from Spencer to look at him, your eyes still denote your inner struggle.

"What if they are right? What if they are right when they say I shouldn't make so much fuzz and rather think about doing my job well?"

Spencer cups your cheeks so you can look at him.

"They are not. Okay? By any means, you are the most professional person I have ever met in my life. Not only that, you are also the most compassionate, selfless, and willing to help to the fullest extent of your capacity. Does JJ need help babysitting Henry? You don't think twice. Does García need assistance organizing a girls' night? You are the first one to be there. Does Hotch need to finish a stack of reports in one night? You offer to help him. Does Derek need a backup to kick his way into a place and catch the unsub? You're the first to watch his back."

You are indeed like that, and you do all that. But you've never seen it as something extraordinary. For you, being part of a team and a family means all that and more.

"And that doesn't even scratch the surface of what you have been to me.

My love, you have been the person who has entitled me to open my heart and love without reservation. You have taught me to trust and that asking for help when you feel bad is okay. You are the light of my life, and I swear I'll do everything in my power so you can see the wonderful person you are and that you deserve all the love and support in the world."

Without a doubt, Spencer has something with his words and eloquence. How can you not believe him? The veil of doubt indeed emerges from time to time, but having someone who is by your side showing you what is really important makes the doubts not cloud your path.

A shy smile appears on your face, your eyes filled with gratitude.

"There she is," Spencer whispers, stroking your cheek with love and never breaking eye contact.

"Maybe I should have listened to you this morning and called in sick," you sigh. Spencer kisses the top of your nose.

"I know you weren't going to do it anyway."

You giggle because he's right. Spencer knows you too well.

"Lunchtime is almost over. We should come back to work," you remind him. Spencer pulls a face, and you raise an eyebrow at him. "What was that?" You inquire.

Spencer laughs nervously. "It's just I may or may not have made a scene in the conference room earlier, and I may or may not have offered my letter of resignation to Hotch if he didn't allow me to come find you."

"You did what? Spencer, oh my God!" you start laughing. "Does that mean there's a chance we'll both get fired today?"

Spencer thinks about that for a second.

"Honestly? I don't think Hotch would risk losing his two best agents," he decides, winking at you.

"Hope you're right, Dr. Reid. Hope you're right," you voice, grabbing his hand in yours and making the way back to the sixth floor.

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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @levi-of-starz @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfics #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid x fem!bau!reader #aperrywilliams #amanda perry williams

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magics-neptunes-things · 9 months

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Collide (2)

Hello everyone!

Here is the rest of Collide, you can find the first part here, I obviously advise you to read it if you come across this part first… Otherwise you will surely not understand much!

A big thank you for your support, this story is longer and more thoughtful than the ones I have written so far, so it takes me much more time.

I really hope that all of you are having or will have a wonderfull Christmas. Take care of yourself and your loved ones ❤️

I hope you'll enjoy this part :)

TW : Alcohol, Angst and I think it’s ok like that!

World : 5.4K

PART 1 I PART 3 I PART 4 I PART 5 I PART 6 | PART 7

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Time has gone by nicely since you arrived in London and your integration into the Arsenal team is no longer in doubt. You get along well with everyone, you participate willingly in the parties organized by your teammates and you even managed to make yourself appreciated quickly by the fans. Which is not a difficult thing as long as you play well. And without wanting to throw yourself flowers or play the presumptuous, you are more than satisfied with your performance on the field right now.

Alessia has become a very close friend and the fact that she’s your neighbor probably helps a lot too. You often go to the training ground together and it happens regularly that one finishes at the other apartment in the evening. You have become a bit of an essential element of each other’s apartment decor. You are also close to Manuela, your goalkeeper, and Viv makes you die laughing. You also enjoy spending time with Lia, even if she is very close to Leah who continues to torment your thoughts. Katie and Caitlin are great mates too.

After some time of tension between Leah and you following your defection during your kiss, you managed to find a cordial relationship. You can’t help but look at her when she doesn’t see you, you still feel very attracted to her. And it’s not just about physics, you find her funny, interesting and you have the impression that your souls are made to get along. But you’ve never been alone with her since the party. And you feel like it suits Leah like that.

You were getting ready for practice when your phone rings, somewhere in your apartment. After a few long seconds of research, you end up finding it under a cushion of your sofa and answers without taking the time to look who may try to contact you.

"Y/N, hi!" makes a joyful voice.

"Wally, what’s going on?" you ask, sitting on your couch.

You hear from the noise around her that she’s definitely driving somewhere noisy.

"I had to pick up Leah to take her to practice but I’m stuck in traffic and I don’t think I’ll be on time myself. Could you go get her, please?"

No? Out of question to find myself with my crush in the same space clot for twenty minutes without interruption miss Wälti, I am not sure to survive. Have you see this girl? The way her face light up when she smile make me want to...

"Oh, yes, of course" you answer, pinching your nose. "You’re telling her I’m coming?"

"Yeah, yeah, no worries. Thank you very much Y/N, see you later."

"Drive carefully. See you"

Your voice is just a mumble at the end of your sentence and you hang up before Lia has time to say something else. You always go early when you drive alone like today, Alessia having an appointment before training. You have plenty of time to get Leah, but you’re still very worried.

So you nervously take the wheel, driving to the blonde's house where you’ve already been to for one of your evenings. Before the kiss. When you park in front of her house, you take a few seconds to take a big breath before getting out of the car.

You press the doorbell a first time before sliding your hands in the pockets of your sweatshirt and you press a second time after a few minutes, when you realize that no one comes to open. You know Leah lives alone so maybe she just didn’t hear the doorbell the first time.

But your ear is drawn to a piano melody that makes you frown. Since when has Leah been playing the piano? You don’t have time to question yourself any longer, though, since your captain’s voice ends up in your ears.

"Come on in Wally, it’s open!" Leah screams

Ouch. So either she didn’t get Lia’s messages, or Lia just forgot to warn her. Whatever it is, you’re hoping Leah won’t take your presence at her place badly. You end up slowly entering inside, carefully closing the door behind you. Leah’s home is different in the daylight and you mechanically follow the melody of the piano that resounds in the house.

You end up finding Leah in a room that probably serves as her office, actually installed behind a piano. This woman is full of surprises. You don’t dare interrupt her, so you cross your arms and lean on the door frame until she’s done. You recognize a song by Shania Twain, but you can't remember the title of it.

When she’s done, Leah turns in your direction with a satisfied little smile. That quickly turns into a surprised frown when she sees you there. "Hi" you say before clearing your throat. "Lia is stuck somewhere in London with her car and asked if I could pick you up. She was supposed to warn you. Sorry, I guess she forgot to" "Oh, okay" Leah replies, getting up "It’s been a while since I looked at my phone, I may not have seen her message" You nod thoughtfully, tightening your arms around yourself mechanically while waiting for Leah to check her phone. You see a new smile lightening her face and you imagine that it is by seeing the message of the Swiss woman. You’re kind of jealous about the ease of their relationship, to have a friendship as strong as they both have... No, actually, it’s not a friendship you’d like to have with Leah. But you have to stay wise. Anyway, you doubt it’s what the blonde wants on her side. She’s not one to be in a long relationship. "Shall we go?" Leah’s voice cuts you off in your thoughts and you simply nod, taking off against the wood you were always leaning on. You pick up Leah’s bag mechanically as you pass the front door, which seems to both surprise and amuse her. "I can carry my bag, you know?" "Oh... I just thought with your leg... sorry" Leah does not answer, content to laugh gently closing the door of her home with a key. You mask your red cheeks by storing her bag in the trunk of your car and you hope to have found a casual face when you sit next to her. "I didn’t know you played the piano" you say after a few minutes of silence. Leah looks at you briefly and you feel like she’s holding back from saying "There’s a lot you don’t know about me," which is probably true. "I started it during the lockdown. I’m not really good, but I like it."

"What I heard was very good" you countered, looking at it in the corner of your eyes.

"Well thanks" Leah laughs and you feel your belly make a somersault "But I’ve been repeating this song for a long time. I have no right to tell you why for the moment"

"It’s a piece by Shania Twain, isn’t it?"

"Yes. You’re still the one"

This time, you see her turning in your direction to be able to better observe you. Is it done voluntarily or not, you do not know. What you do know is that you’re happy to have started a conversation that allows you to exchange without having disturbing silence in the car.

"Do you like country music?" asks the blonde

"Not really. All I know about country is that Miley Cyrus has a father who does. Does it count?" you ask with a laugh.

"I could hit you right now"

Leah has a smile when she says that, and it makes you laugh again. A new silence comes between you, but this one is nice. You are finally relaxed with each other since your party and you feel you can breathe more easily.

"We’re going to a Luke Combs concert next weekend. You could come with us, it would open you up to the country world?"

You bite your lip thoughtfully. You know many of them are going. Leah, Lia, Alessia, and so on.

"Less offered it to me a few days ago but I refused saying that I didn’t like to go to concerts if I could not sing the lyrics" you admit thoughtfully.

Your gaze clinging to the dense traffic in London doesn’t allow you to see the disappointment read for a few seconds on Leah’s face.

"I guess I’ll have to revise quickly"

To be honest, what also made you turn down that offer was not to make Leah’s evening unpleasant. You quickly understood how she can’t stand being away from others on the field and how these shared moments with your teammates are important to her. But that she still wants you to come also makes you exceedingly happy.

During the rest of the trip, Leah asks you about your own musical preferences and you tell her that you got stuck with the old rock and pop-rock bands you used to listen to when you were a teenager. A little Norwegian variety also thanks to your parents, whom she has never heard of but that doesn’t surprise you particularly.

********

"Looks good, your integration into Arsenal" Leila’s voice says from your phone as you cook yourself something for dinner.

"Frankly, I have nothing to complain about. They are all adorable" you answer sincerely.

"Adorable is not a term I would use for Katie McCabe"

You laugh softly and shake your head. You know perfectly well the reputation that Katie has outside the field, you have heard about it since your arrival in the English champion.

"She’s like a bulldozer on the ground, but outside she’s really nice. A hell of a character maybe, but I’ve never seen someone as loyal as her"

"Look at her, completely on the enemy’s side"

Leila laughs and you smile, rolling your eyes. Sometimes keeping friendships isn’t easy when you’re away or playing on opposing teams, but you’re glad to see that you seem to be keeping your bond with Leila for now. You obviously hope it lasts.

Two shots are taking at your front door before Alessia comes inside to drop on your couch. It’s become such a habit between you that you don’t even react to her presence.

"How was the concert?" asks Leila.

"It was good, sincerely. It’s not the music I used to listen to, but I liked it."

That’s the truth. You honestly didn’t expect to have such a great time. The good relationship between Arsenal players also exists outside the field and this spirit makes you feel like part of a family. From someone so far from yours like you, it’s more than pleasant. And that night you spent gave you an opportunity to spend some time with Leah too. Like a child who tests his own limits, you try to determine where the line is that you must not exceed. As if she were reading your thoughts, Leila resumes speaking as you mix what you cook in your pan. "What about Williamson?" "What about Leah?" You ask, taking a quick look at Alessia to see if she’s listening to what you’re saying. "Huh? Since you kissed, is..." You don’t hear the end of the sentence, jumping on your phone to cut the microphone. But it’s too late and you see Alessia’s face turning into a surprise. The amazement, rather. "I call you back Lei" you mumble to your friend before hanging up. "You kissed Leah?" Wide-eyed, Alessia has made her way to you. A big smile appeared on his face, but you startled when you heard him scream half. "Shh!" you tell her, as if you were afraid someone else would listen to you. "Why didn’t you tell me? When was that?" Alessia put her two hands on your shoulders and she shakes you gently, apparently more than willing to have answers to her questions. "At my moving-in party" you end up sighing. "And she kissed me." Well, you didn’t reject it to be honest. Well, at the beginning anyway. The rest, no need to remind. "Do you know how many girls would kill to be in your place?" laughs Alessia. "Why does it look like you killed someone when you talk about it?" "Because nothing has happened since then, we are probably not looking for the same thing. Not many people know, Lessi, you have to keep it to yourself please"

"Of course I will. But maybe Lia knows too, Leah say her everything."

"Maybe" you shrug.

"But still. You kissed Leah Williamson"

********

The break for international competitions arrive at à great time. You were able to see your family again, especially your parents and seeing your friends from the national team also make you happy. Your reunion with Ingrid was filmed and posted on social media, your embrace being visible to everyone. You don’t know what makes people not think there’s something going on between you, but you’re grateful that it’s going on like this. You like Ingrid as a friend and you don’t want to have to think about how to behave with her so you don’t hurt her girlfriend.

The results of your national team didn’t live up to your expectations however, despite the goals you were able to score. The disappointment must have been visible in the message that you tried to shoot positively on Instagram. You got some messages of encouragement from your friends, from Arsenal or not. You also received a message from Leah, the first one she addresses you directly on a Whatsapp band.

If you were sad to have to say goodbye to your best friend again, finding your Arsenal teammates is a pleasure. This feeling of being at home warms your heart.

"Hi Frozen" tease Katie at you when you see her for the first time, making you roll your eyes with fun.

This time again, the hug that you exchange with Leah lasts a little longer than the others and you smile at her when she pinches you affectionately the cheek. Maybe you missed her too much.

In the next game, against Aston Villa, you feel like Leah’s mind is somewhere else, but yours too. This is the first time in a long time that you will find yourself facing your ex and you know that Leah will also have to live with the fact that Jordan will be around.

Even though the blonde is still not playing, Leah participates in the briefings and is always around when you play at home.

No wonder, her love for the team and the club is now known to everyone. You haven’t been thinking particularly about Alina lately, Leah taking a lot of time in your thoughts. But you have to admit that to see her again, even from the back, training with her teammates, it does you something. You no longer have the slightest feeling of love for her, of course. Everything magically disappeared the day you learned about her infidelities. But you still have trouble swallowing betrayal.

"Are you okay here?"

You recognize Leah’s voice easily, but the hand on your shoulder makes you jump. Crossing her eyes, you quickly understand that she understood and you just shrug your shoulders.

"Yeah, I know. Come on, let’s go."

Leah’s hand slips on your back as she takes you to the small group forming by Alessia, Katie and Kyra. You find yourself regretting the feeling of her hand in your back when Alessia puts her arm around your shoulders in a comforting embrace. You nevertheless let yourself go against her, looking over Leah’s shoulder. From a distance, you have the impression that Jordan Nobbs was looking in your direction.

The game was hard, Aston Villa scored first and your team have trouble to find the back of the net. It last almost until the end of the game, until you caught Leah’s eye in the bleachers. From there to say that it’s her who gave you the impulse to go and score the goal, there is a world. But still, it’s only a few seconds later that you score. And a few minutes later, Alessia scored the winning goal, allowing Arsenal to win the match.

It’s probably cruel for the other team, but honestly you don’t care. You don’t get asked to show your joy, celebrating with Wally, Kyra and Alessia. You watch while a smiling Leah jumping into Alessia’s arms just before Katie comes to offer you a hug in her own way, passing an arm around your neck while strocking your hair with the other hand.

"Manu’s organising a party for tonight, are you coming?" says you a happy Katie.

When she gets your positive answer she releases you, literally pounding up to Caitlin. It’s by following her with your eyes that your eyes cling to a silhouette that you know very well despite yourself. Alina, standing in the middle of the field with her hands on her hips, looking disgusted. As you said, seen from the other side, the defeat must be bitter.

When she looks at you too, you hurry to turn your heels, only to rush straight into Jordan Nobbs.

"Oh… sorry mate" you mumble by rushing to run away.

You are relieved to see that the person who pulls you by the arm right after is Alessia, carrying you away from this situation. An amused smile is visible on her face, and you feel that she restrains herself from saying something.

"Don’t"

Alessia laughs and can only smile when hearing it, gently shaking your head. The fans in front of which Alessia trains you claiming photos and autographs, that make you forget easily what has just happened.

********

A few hours later, you’re in a nightclub with almost the entire team. Although we have to admit that everyone was a little scattered throughout the nightclub. Maybe you drank too much, too. Leah is here, of course. When she came to sit next to you with her big smile and her sexy outfit, you almost fainted. You feel like she’s doing it on purpose. But it’s nothing compared to the wave of chills that runs through you when she looks at you to say "Pretty goal, superstar". The ambient music forces her to have this behavior, but still.

It’s not the ambient music that will make her invite you to dance with her. If you refused at first, claiming not to know how to dance, you couldn’t resist her any longer. And you also noticed that others girls don’t seem against keeping Leah company. Of course, you have absolutely no right to be jealous, but that definitely tilts the scales.

You’ve been dancing with Leah for a long time now, to be honest, you’ve completely lost track of time. Your teammates are far too drunk around you to pay attention to you and none seem to have realized how your body seems unable to detach from Leah’s. Your body is attracted with the strength of a magnet by hers and as long as you had your back against her, you managed to fight against yourself and keep an almost clear mind. But when the last song changed, you stupidly turned around and you were hypnotized by the captain’s gaze. Your heart rate is faster, your breathing is more complicated and you have to fight with all your strength not to lean in her direction a few centimeters more to be able to kiss her. Her hands on your hip and in the hollow of your back hold you all against her and the arms you tied around her neck may not help either. It’s as if your mind and your body wanted two things and you were pulled from two sides at the same time. You’ve obviously noticed Leah’s eyes slipping regularly on your lips, seemingly wishing nothing but to kiss you. The message is very clear, it would be for anyone. But when Leah tries an approach and touches your lips with hers, you step back. You obviously realized that Leah didn’t even look at a girl other than you tonight, but the fear of getting screwed again is stronger than the rest. You only stepped back a few inches so you could look into Leah’s. If you haven't saw Alina today, maybe you would have kiss her. You certainly read a part of disappointment, perhaps even a little rejection, but also uncertainty. Does she think that she misinterpreted the signals you send her? That is not the case, of course. You are undeniably attracted to her, you don't want to lie to her either. Or worse, let her start thinking that you’re the one playing with her feelings.

"I’m sorry. I don’t want to be an extra number on your hunting board, Leah."

By your position, you feel Leah’s breath against your lips and it makes you half crazy. When you gently detach you from her, she lets you. You can see her jaw is tight, but you don’t feel like it’s anger. You can’t take the time to figure out what it is, before you decide to get out of there. You pick up your jacket and bag and go out, even unintentionally bumping into someone who hasn’t asked for anything on your way.

"Are you alright?"

A voice next to you makes you jump and you raise your eyes on a couple that was probably out smoking. The girl looks at you with special attention and you realize at this moment that your hands are shaking.

"Yes, yes, it’s okay" you mumble taking a deep breath.

"Sure?"

You nod again, both surprised and touched by so much soliscitude. Maybe there is still some hope in the human being?

"Do you know where I can get a cab?"

The one you imagine being her boyfriend points at you the end of the street. You thank and greet them, walking quickly going in the right direction. It only take you twenty minutes to return home, your mind haunted by the image of Leah, the sensations felt when your face was only a few inches from you. Regrets mix with relief and you still don’t know if you made the right decision.

You don’t even take the time to remove your makeup before hiding under your duvet. You want to call Leah, but this is the second time you’ve pushed her away in a short time. You will never dare to return to the training ground without having a terrible fear of running into her. You were wondering if you are going to contact your agent to ask him to propose you for a loan with another team when you hear someone knocking on the door of your apartment. "Y/N?" It’s Alessia’s voice and you realize no one saw you leave, except maybe Leah. You hiss when you feel the cold ground under your bare feet when you answer, finding yourself facing an Alessia who seems both relieved and annoyed. Her phone in hand, she seems to finish reading a message when she reports her attention to you. "Why didn’t you say you were going home?" Her tone is accusing and you pout, feeling like you’re being scolded by your older sister. But you can understand the worry. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you." Alessia still looks at you for a few seconds while squinting before sighing and slipping into your apartment. She hugs you before she lets you go. "You and Leah were missing, we were worried" she explains before going for a glass of water. "Leah too?" In spite of yourself, you feel the anxiety rise suddenly. If something happened to her because of your behavior, you will never forgive yourself. Worry is easily detectable in your voice, as Less hurries to comfort you. "Yes, but she’s home. Lia found her there. What happened?" "What do you mean?" You mumble looking at your feet. "Well you both disappear, you’re closer than you’ve ever been... But you don’t have the face of someone who had a nice evening"

"I screwed up" you sigh softly as you cross your arms on your chest.

Your gaze is always fixed on your feet and you frown, trying to remember the meaning of your memories and thoughts. Alessia knows what happened with Alina, the deception and everything, it’s not for nothing that she remained close to you physically speaking today. In the field, at least.

Alessia doesn’t answer anything, waiting patiently to see if you want to continue to explain yourself or not.

'I panicked. There’s this kind of attraction I’ve had for her from the beginning and the more I try to fight it, the bigger it gets. It’s like every thing she did or said is what I expect her to do, without me even knowing it."

You looked up at the blonde this time and she watches you talking, holding her half-empty glass of water in her hand. Her eyebrows are ruffled, but she looks more pensive than upset this time.

"We managed to catch up with the bond we had after I pushed her back. But tonight… I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about what happened with Alina all day and… I panicked. I don’t want to be heartbroken again."

This time it’s a compassionate smile that appears on Alessia’s face, which is content to extend your arms as the very first answer. You accepted and snuggled up against her, sighing softly. She didn’t steal her nickname of Lessi Bear.

"I think you should talk to Leah" Alessia says after a few seconds.

"I doubt she’ll want to talk to me again"

********

You were right. You don’t know if it’s voluntary or not on Leah’s part, but you haven’t seen her since the nightclub. She seems to have changed her physiotherapy and training schedules so she won’t run into you again. And you have to admit that it hurt your heart. But again this reaction is probably very selfish, if you are both there it is only your fault.

Your mood has deteriorated throught the days when you feel someone sitting next to you in the locker room. You look up expecting to find yourself in front of Caitlin who has her locker next to yours, but instead it’s Lia who addresses you one of her famous smiles.

"Are you okay?" she asks and you ask yourself in the first place if she’s not making fun of you.

But it would mean not knowing Lia at all.

"Good. What about you?"

Lia nods, still armed with her smile, while you finish putting on your sneakers. The training session has just ended, you are showered and changed and ready to go home.

"I was wondering if we could talk together?"

"Of course."

You get up and follow her, wondering what it is. Lia trains you with her in the cafeteria of the team, currently completely deserted. After having caught yourself drinking and sitting at a table, you look at her with an undisguised curiosity. If you really like the Swiss woman, you’ve never really exchanged one-on-one.

"Is everything okay?" You can’t help but ask her, afraid she’s in trouble.

"Oh, yes. It’s not me I wanted to talk to you about, it’s Leah."

You make a slight grimace but nods gently, your look staying on the cup of coffee you ordered yourself.

"I’m sorry if I intervene in a way that is not my business and you will have the right to scold me later, but I think it’s time someone did"

You look at her again a little surprised. Faithful to her country of origin, Lia is far from wanting to conflict with anyone. However, the fact that she wants to take the risk of doing so is a testament to the importance of what she will say.

"Leah told me what happened between you two"

Lia gives you an apology smile, but you told Alessia and Ingrid about it so you just nod. It would be rather inappropriate for you to resent Leah for needing to confide to someone.

"I don’t know who told you things about her, but what I do know is that Leah has been my friend since I came to Arsenal. She was always loyal and honest with me. When my ex and I broke up and I was lower than earth, she came home every night to try to cheer me up. She is sincere, kind and much sweeter and more tender than what people want her to be."

You know, you’re uncomfortable. You are one of those people who preferred to listen to what people was saying about Leah at the worst time, when she showed you during all these weeks that she is the girl that Lia has just described to you.

"I don’t know your past Y/N and I’m not judging you. But I really believe that Leah is genuinely interested in you. If it were just for one night, she would have moved on for a long time especially after you told her you don’t want a one time thing"

You remain silent for a few seconds, during which you assimilate what Lia has just told you. Passing a hand through your hair, you end up looking up at her.

"Anyway, it’s too late now. She must hate me, right?"

"I think you should talk to her about all this"

You bite your lip, realizing this is the second time you’ve been advised to do this in a few days. Unfortunately, this could be complicated.

"How? She doesn’t even want to see me here anymore"

Your desperate look seems to amuse Lia, or at least she smiles while rolling her eyes.

"By extraordinary luck we’re in the 21st century. You can either contact her via your phone or go to her house to talk to her"

Lia’s amused tone makes you smile slightly. She’s right, but it’s not so much your style to impose your presence somewhere. Your interlocutor must understand your reticence, since she puts her hand on your arm, making you look at her again.

"I will not speak for her, but she also suffered in her past. The only thing holding you both back is a lack of communication. I’m sure it can be fixed."

********

Right in front of Leah’s house, you don’t remember being so nervous for a long time. After thinking long and hard about the conversation you had with Lia, you then had to think about how to approach Leah. The blond continues to flee you like the plague and even if contacting her by message would probably be easier, you are not sure if she answers you. If the blonde has many qualities that have made you fall under her spell, she is still atrociously stubborn and resentful.

You turned in your head several scenarios, again and again until you became half crazy. Then you had enough. Sitting on Alessia’s couch in front of a particularly lame reality TV, you suddenly got up. Alessia gave you a worried look but you just threw at her while leaving her apartment

“I’m going to see Leah”

Your voice was clear and determined, making her understand that your decision was made. After shrugging her shoulders, Alessia lay down again in front of the television.

“Okay. But maybe change your pajamas first.”

Interrupted in your way, your hand freezes on the doorknob of the stricker’s apartment. Your eyes slide on your polar pajama bottoms with avocados drawn on them.

A grommet escapes from your lips as you open the door, triggering Alessia’s laughter behind you.

_____________________________________________________________

Merry Christmas you all 🎄❤️

#woso x reader #woso imagine #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #woso fanfics #woso #woso imagines

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atrirose · 1 year

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𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑

“i’ve passed by many eyes but only got lost in yours”

synopsis: they find you cute and gather the courage to ask you for your number

ft. enhypen members, fluff, f!reader, cuss words

HEESEUNG : saw you at his favorite cafe and decided that it’s his time to get his dream girl, heeseung has seen you come to the same cafe at 3.00 pm everyday so he makes sure he is there at that time too, it’s been two weeks since he saw you for the first time and now he had enough either he makes his move right now or never, he walked up to get your attention “excuse me-” your ice coffee spilled all over him “OH MY GOD,, im so so so sorry, i will pay for the dry cleaning” you said as you wrote down your number and gave it to him, now he is confused about whether he made the move or he got lucky. “you know, heeseung the first time we talked in the cafe, though it was one sided and i spilled coffee on you, but it was on purpose because you were a coward and i couldn’t wait anymore” so turns out heeseung has no game and the only reason he is dating right now is because you decided to have pity on him.

JAY : “hey! i just wanted ask where you got that dress from, it’s the most beautiful thing i have ever seen” a perfect way to approach a girl, when he saw you in that strawberry dress amongst the flower fields he knew he was a goner, you were so ethereal for him that moment that he probably would be describing this scene to his grandkids “oh it’s from…?, i’m sorry i forgot, it’s been so long” jackpot! he couldn’t have been more happier “oh! darn it, say what how about you give me your number and inform me anytime you remember it” and that’s how he secured his girlfriend, the dress? it was completely forgotten “you were the most beautiful person i have ever seen, the dress was just an excuse” but you being you knew jay wasn’t interested in the dress and gave him benefit of the doubt “i knew it”

JAKE : “can i have your number please?” it’s been 2 years since he saw you in his math class sleeping even though it was finals week and it’s been 2 years since he have been in love with you, so in his senior year he decided straightforward is the way to go because he didn’t want to hesitate anymore “jake?” he had prepared for everything, if you accept him, you and him would be raising layla but if you reject him, well he would be okay? right, he got ice cream ready and his favorite show picked to cry off his sorrows “yeah, i know it’s sudden and we never talked but i just wanted to let this out and-” you took his phone and saved your number “see soon bye” you waved like everything was cool but deep down you both are cheering like you won a grammy.

SUNGHOON : “a little odd for you to sit alone don’t you think” you’re waiter who has no business to be so irritating chimed his unwanted opinion “that only makes me think you are single, i’m sunghoon by the way-” you hand him the menu as you forced a smile “i’m ready to order” he clicked his pen and wrote down your order. when you were done with your food you asked for the bill, and guess what it, was your annoying waiter who came with it “here is my number”—“why would i want your number and where is the bill” he gave you his number instead of the bill “it’s on me” he smiled and you have to admit his confidence and smile can make you forget all his annoying behavior “call me” he winked as he walked off.

SUNOO : “is that your brother, aww he is so cute” the only reason he bought his baby cousin was to get your attention, he has been watching you on his way back home every evening with what he assumed was your little sister, and he knew the easiest way to get attention was either to bring a dog or a baby, so he went to his aunt and picked out the most cutest cousin he could find, and as luck would have it his cousin got you to him “he is my cousin, he was just so lonely and needed new friends so i bought him here, but most of the time the park is empty and i can’t seem to match the time of other kids to have him company” he was lying and his cousin knew because he was looking at him like he would end sunoo soon “aww i’m sorry, say what i can introduce my sister to him and they can hang out” sunoo smiled so bright you can hardly hate him for lying “great so can i have your number for future play dates” he gives you his phone totally ignoring your confusion “ah, sure”

JUNGWON : “here you wanted this” you handed your number to jungwon “yes ms. lee asked for it” a lie, he is lying, no teacher told him to get your number and you were gullible enough to believe him as if any teacher would ask a student to get another students number, they have the record yn WHY ARE YOU SO DUMB, but it wasn’t your loss. “so this guy told me-” jungwon started with his daily facetime gossip with you “jungwon now that i think about it ms.lee never called me” nervous laugh as he try to avoid the topic

NIKI : “hi i just beautiful and saw look” he doesn’t know how to communicate any longer, the moment he saw you in the mall he was enchanted, even though you were walking around with your pjs on “excuse me?” and this was the most embarrassing moment of your life, a handsome boy trying to talk to you and you look like someone who got hit by a train “i just wanted to ask you where….the washroom is” wow this guy thinks you work here “well i’m not sure i think..” you were about to point at something when he said “well can i get your number” he said handing out his phone “to call you when i find the washroom..?” he looked horrified “you’re as dumb as me” and surprise you both are dating the next week “did you find the washroom yn?” niki teased “shut up”

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ellethespaceunicorn · 1 year

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Some Things You Just Can't Refuse

Title: Some Things You Just Can't Refuse

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Dom!Clark Kent x Sub!Reader

Word Count: 4.7K+

Summary: A collection of first times with Clark Kent, and one last time.

Warnings: dacryphilia, unprotected p-in-v sex (wrap it up babes), creampie, spit kink (for like two seconds), Reader being a brat

A/N: This has been a plot bunny that sat in my Google Docs while all my other works got attention. Did I really just write a 5+1? Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

Clark Kent was a simple man, for the most part. He had preferences, sure. But he knew what he liked, and went for those things more often than not. One of his preferences was a certain kind of woman.

And you were that kind of woman. His Sunflower.

The perfect combination of submissive and strong-willed. What others may call bratty, Clark would call “a little feisty” and he wouldn’t change it for the world.

And that is where Clark was anything but simple. He was your Dominant, you were his submissive. He loved you, he provided for you, and he kept you safe. He kissed the ground you walked on, he broke you, and he put you back together.

The first time you met Clark Kent was in the break room of the Daily Planet.

You were an intern for the summer, just working to get some credits toward your journalism degree. You weren’t all that interested in going to warzones and reporting on drug lords and shit. You wanted to tell stories about starving artists and activism. You wanted to surprise people with your ability to capture the essence of someone’s emotion and relate it to the reader’s own experiences.

While doing your writing at work, while you were supposed to be doing whatever Lois Lane threw at you this morning, you decided to take a break to recharge. Since energy drinks gave you the jitters, you opted for a warm-ish mug of hours-old coffee.

As you reached up to the cabinet to get a mug, you watched as a hand appears above you to grab the handles of two mugs. You turned, following the hand, to see who reached over you. Eyes blue like the Atlantic Ocean behind a pair of plain black rectangular frames looked back at you. You can’t help but smile at him as he beamed, bright enough to illuminate your entire day.

And your writer’s brain was getting way ahead of itself already. Who the hell was this mountain of a man? I wonder what his lips taste like. Should that tie go with that shirt? Fuck, did he just ask me something?

“I’m sorry, what?” You shook yourself out of your thoughts.

“I asked if you wanted the black or the flower mug. I was gonna offer the flower. But I’d rather not assume you didn’t wanna just take the plain one. So, I’m gonna stop talking and let you answer.”

Fuck, he’s cute when he rambles.

“Sunflowers are my favorite.” He offered the mug and your fingers touch and you’re glad that you are the only two in the break room.

“Clark,” he says, as he poured himself some coffee, “Clark Kent.”

You gave your name and he put out a hand to shake yours. With your hand in his, you notice how it engulfed your own. You thought to yourself about that hand around your throat. Just lightly squeezing the sides of your neck, as a warning.

“Nice to meet you. I hope Lois has been easy on you. She can be a little…much.” He said it in a way that lead you to believe he’s been on the demanding end of Lois more than once.

“Eh, she’s alright. I mean, Ms. Lane is just fine.” You tried to cover your disdain for Lois. In reality, you saw her as a ‘Pick-Me’, but you tried to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Yeah, sure she is. I dated her, so I know her pretty well. Not that I should be saying anything. But, don’t let her try and get in your head. She’ll use whatever she can to get a scoop, whether in the field or the workplace. She’s a great journalist, but-” You cut him off, not wanting to take part in putting down another woman.

“I think I get the hint. Watch my back around her.” You assure him you understood as you poured your coffee and put in some cream and sugar.

“Yeah, sorry. I shouldn’t talk about her behind her back. That was rude of me. My mother would be disappointed in me for that.” He looked into his mug, and you saw that he was not proud of himself for putting down his ex.

“It’s all good, Clark. I can tell you didn’t mean anything by it. Emotions are tricky, ya know?” You don’t know why you wanted to give him an ‘out’, but you did.

“That, they are. I better get back. See ya around,” He gave a cute little wave and exited the room.

The first time Clark Kent called you Sunflower happened about a month after your first meeting.

The two of you ended up together on a test run for Perry to see how you go about working with other reporters. He probably just wanted to see if I could share a byline.

You could tell that Lois saw a tenacity in you that reminded her of her younger self. While that was great, you wanted to be seen for your ability to get people to talk to you without making them feel like they were in an interview. Just a conversation between people.

When you asked Clark to work on the assignment with you, he jumped at the opportunity. In truth, he wanted the chance to see you at work. He’d listen to Lois talk about how you just saw things differently. Almost like she was jealous, but she would never admit to that.

“So I was thinking we could go to Gotham. Before you say anything, I know it’s dangerous there but we’ll be going during the day. And I finally got the go-ahead from Wayne Enterprises to shadow one of their board members. A Day in the Life kind of piece. What do you think?” You rambled out, arms crossed as you leaned against Clark’s desk.

“I think I can get you an exclusive with Bruce Wayne if you wanted.” He stated nonchalantly.

“I would owe you big time. Wait, how the hell do you know Wayne? What, were you boy scouts together or something?”

“We just end up at a lot of the same places.” Clark offers no other explanation.

“Right,” you nodded at him, not letting it go, “So, I run point on this and you back me up?”

“Sounds perfect. You’ll do great, just know he will try and flirt with you so don’t make it easy for him, Sunflower.” The nickname caused heat to rise to your face, remembering that first time you met him.

“Sure, like the most eligible bachelor in Gotham who can buy whatever he wanted would look at me twice?” You weren’t being down on yourself too much, more like you were being realistic. The man had dated supermodels and heiresses, not chubby junior reporters.

“Without sounding unprofessional, trust me when I say Bruce will look at you more than twice. You say the word and I’ll set him straight.” Was that flirtatious? No way.

“Um, if you say so, Clark,” you tried to laugh it off and walk away but Clark caught your wrist, your eyes locked with his and you felt…something.

“I do say so, Sunflower,” he lowered his hand from around your wrist, “Just prepare to shut him down more than once. He’s, uh, persistent.”

“You trying to save me for yourself, huh?” You couldn’t help yourself. If he denies it, you could say you were joking. If he confirms it, then…

He simply smiled and tilted his head, neither confirming nor denying.

During your interview with Bruce Wayne, you were surprised that he indeed did flirt with you as Clark said he would. You managed to steer the conversation back to Wanye Enterprises each time he would stray to learn more about you. You would give him a detail here and a tidbit there, but you kept it professional. Clark was there to take notes, letting you take the lead. He was impressed by you. You kept Bruce flirting with you to get him to spill details about new things he was working on for Gotham.

The first time you kissed Clark Kent was three months into your internship.

Lois had taken a shine to you, loving what few pieces you were able to get past the intern pool and into an issue. You figured it would be in your best interest to go to her with any journalistic questions you had. You may not like her very much, but she was still a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist and you would be an idiot not to take a few pointers from her.

There was one thing you didn’t talk to her about, and that was the massive crush you had on her ex. It just seemed too messy, and honestly, you didn’t need her permission to do anything.

That’s why you accepted Clark’s invitation to make you dinner. Frankly, you weren't surprised he asked you. You had been flirting with each other, exchanging glances and smiles across the office. Spending hours a night talking on the phone and texting back and forth naturally lead you here.

Armed with a bottle of wine and all the courage you could muster, you make it to Clark’s apartment just as he is finishing dinner. He answers the door in jeans and a grey long-sleeved henley, looking so comfortable and so different without a tie on. He thanked you for the wine, took your wrist to pull you behind him, and shut the door with a socked foot.

Pouring you both a glass, he congratulated you for completing half of your internship. It completely slipped your mind that you had reached this milestone, but he remembered. And that was saying a lot. You clinked your glasses together and took a sip of the pinot noir.

“This is going to go great with dinner. Thank you again for picking up some. I can’t believe I forgot to,” Clark bantered, setting his wine glass down to check on the pork tenderloin and roasted potatoes.

“You were too busy trying to impress me,” You insisted, smiling when he gives you a stern look.

“Watch it, Sunflower,” is all you hear and you shifted from one foot to the other to hide your search for friction. You barely had two sips of wine in your system before this man had you feeling drunk.

“Time to let the pork rest while the potatoes finish up. Should be done in a bit,” Clark picked up his wine glass, settling his other hand on your lower back to guide you to the island counter. He didn’t expect it when a shiver ran up your spine and caused you to giggle, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it.

You sat and chatted during dinner like you’ve known each other for ages and it just felt very comfortable. He told you about his mom, growing up in Smallville, and how he came to work at the Daily Planet. You spoke about your schooling and how you’d one day like to write for the Planet and publish a book of short stories. He was stuck on your every word and it made you feel important to have his undivided attention.

After dinner, you retired to the living room to watch some tv. It was more just on as background noise as you conversed with each other. When you both reached for the wine bottle at the same, you both laugh and then look at each other. And it was all you could do not to melt into a puddle as those blue eyes stare longingly at you.

Clark reached up and took off his glasses before tossing them on the coffee table. Fuck. But, he does nothing more. For what seems like minutes, you sat in silence just staring into each other’s eyes until you speak up.

“Clark, please?” You whined, growing more frustrated with every second.

“Use your words. Tell me what you need, Sunflower.” The way he said it had you shifting in your seat.

“I need you to kiss me, please?” You pleaded, the little crack in your voice not missed by Clark.

He cupped your face with one large paw, his touch so soft that you leaned into it to feel his warmth. His thumb moved over to wipe across your lips, followed swiftly by his lips.

Your lips met and you felt the warmth radiating from him. You could taste the sweetness of the wine on his tongue as he begged for entry. You let him in, moaning into his mouth. Clark grunted in return and pulled away to rest your foreheads together.

“I have wanted that for far too long, Sunflower,” Clark groaned, licking his lips.

“Me too,” you whisper, scooting closer to Clark to lace your fingers together, “Can we do it again?”

Instead of answering you, he pulled you into his lap and attacked your mouth with fervor.

The first time you tell Clark Kent you love him is exactly two months after your first kiss.

It was completely by accident, but no less true.

Clark invited you over for dinner and a movie. The two of you were in the middle of watching 10 Things I Hate About You. Patrick was dancing on the bleachers and singing to Kat. The most romantic scene in the movie apart from the poetry scene.

“Ya know, if we went to high school together and you sang ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off You’ to me in front of the whole school, I would have melted,” you say, stuffing popcorn into your face, “But then, I already love you, so you wouldn’t have to do the whole singing thing.”

Clark’s head whipped around so fast that you can feel the wind coming off of him. “What did you just say, Sunflower?”

You look to Clark and you realized what you had said at the same moment and your eyes went wide. “I think I just confessed love during a ‘90s romcom.”

“Yeah, I think you did,” Clark looked at you with that look in his eyes, “Good thing I love you, too.” He says nonchalantly, trying to not freak you out, and went back to watching the movie.

“Clark, I love you.” You wanted to feel the words on your tongue again.

“I love you too, Sunflower.” Hearing the words come from him was like a cozy embrace that coated the night in warmth.

The first time you had sex with Clark Kent was at the end of your internship.

Clark wanted to wait-

No, he didn’t want to wait, but he chose to wait until your internship was over and you were offered an actual job at the Daily Planet to not seem like he was cruising for tail in the intern pool.

Little did you know, but Clark had it all planned out. Candlelit dinner, romantic music, wine, and chocolates. The whole nine yards. But you didn’t get to experience that version of lovemaking.

At the same time Clark was lighting candles, he heard your heartbeat spike across town. He sped away to your location, without putting on his suit. He flew above the city before he found you being held up at gunpoint in an alleyway and his blood boiled. He watched you comply with your attacker and hand over your purse before flying down behind the man quietly. The man had no idea what hit him when Clark flicked his temple and the assailant falls over unconscious.

He didn’t even think to keep his identity secret anymore. He steps over the man to get to you and check you over for injuries, both external and internal. When he sees nothing, he questions you, “Are you alright, Sunflower?”

You look almost through him because there he is in a sweater and dark-wash jeans, glasses slightly askew. You step back an inch as he reaches out to you. He can see it in your eyes that you are piecing together little moments.

How he got across town in what seemed like seconds. How he never got sick. How it felt like he was always hiding something. This is what he was hiding from you. For your safety? For his?

“There were so many times I wanted to tell you I was Superman, I just didn’t know how. Do you forgive me, Sunflower?” Clark’s pleading ultramarine eyes burned into yours.

“I mean, I guess this is as good a time as any to tell me. I have so many questions. Of which, you will answer all of them, Clark. But, all I need to know right now is how the hell you found me?” Your breathing was starting to speed up again and you tried to calm down but given the circumstances, you were acting pretty normal.

“I kind of, know your heartbeat. I can hear it at all times. Wherever you are, I can hear you,” Clark makes an odd face and then forces out an embarrassed laugh, “Now that I say that out loud, it sounds weird.”

“Yeah, it’s a little weird. But it’s also super romantic, too,” you reach to Clark and pull him to you, “What’s my heart sound like now?”

“Sounds like you’re excited,” he let his hand drag down your body, “Smells like it too. Now, why would that be?”

“I mean, I did just find out my boyfriend is a superhero. That’s sorta hot. Sorta, I mean, he hasn’t taken me flying yet.”

“Brat! How hard is it to ask for what you want?” He picked up your purse from the unconscious attacker and handed it to you. When it is secured around your shoulder, Clark picked you up and you wrap your legs around his hips. “Hold on, Sunflower.” He took off so fast that the world blurred around you.

As he got closer to his apartment, he slowed down and flew a bit higher near the clouds. He rolled over onto his back so that you are straddling him. His hands found each other behind his head as he floated above Metropolis, all attention directed at you. Your eyes wandered around the city as you adjusted your seating which stirred his arousal.

Clark tried to adjust himself under you without you noticing but instead, you took the opportunity to grind your clothed sexes together. The groan that escaped Clark’s mouth is enough to spur you on to continue your ministrations. His eyes are already rolling back in his head and you feel quite proud of yourself. You reached under Clark’s sweater and ran your fingers through his chest hair as you continue to work your hips over him.

“Clark?”

“Yes, Sunflower?” He opened his eyes, pupils were blown wide with lust, breathing becoming unstable.

“Take me to your place so we can get more comfortable?” You flirted with him, wrapping your arms around his neck and shimmying up his body.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He grabbed under your thighs to have you wrap your legs around him once more and began to descend to the balcony of his apartment. He let you inside first but is quickly behind you following you into his bedroom as you start to shed your layers.

You spun around and gave Clark a show of your skin becoming visible in the moonlight. When you are fully undressed, you knelt in front of him with your head down and your hands on your thighs.

He walked over to you and kissed the top of your head. He listened for your heartbeat, and it was steady, if not a little heightened. You were awaiting instruction, as far as he could tell.

“Sunflower, I want you to pick a safe word.” He stood behind you and undressed down to his underwear.

“Unicorn is my safe word.”

“Good girl,” Clark caressed your shoulders and squeezed them, “Are you okay with calling me Sir?”

“Yes, Sir.” Your heart rate evened out, Clark noticed. You’re happy. He beamed down at you.

“Good girl, now turn around and take out Sir’s dick.”

You turned around and reach up to Clark’s boxer briefs, cupping him over the fabric before hooking your fingers into the waistband and pulling the underwear down and off. His length sprung up to bounce in front of your face and you lick your lips in anticipation but don’t go any further without direction.

“Such a good girl, Sunflower,” he grabbed your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up to meet his eyes, “Come lay down so Sir can taste you. I can already smell how wet you are.”

You took his hands as he helped you up. Clark pulled you close to his body, your back against his chest. He attacked your neck, nipping and sucking marks that would show in the morning. His length on your hip has you testing your limits.

As if reading your mind, Clark reached down and cupped your netherlips. You instinctively clamped your thighs around his hand and he used a foot to kick your legs apart. With one hand exploring your cunt, the other slides around your throat as a warning.

“Don’t ever block me from my pussy, Sunflower. This belongs to Sir now, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Sir, it belongs to you.” You were sure Clark could feel you clench around nothing and you didn’t care. You wanted him to know he was doing everything right.

“Good girl,” He dipped a finger into your wetness and pulled it back out to wipe across your bottom lip, “We’re both gonna taste your sweet honey.” He used the hand around your throat to turn you around so he could claim your lips.

You tasted yourself as his tongue invaded you, whimpering into his mouth. His answering groans had you trembling. He walked you backward until your legs hit the edge and he pushed you down. Leaning over, he knelt and pushed your thighs back as far as they would go, marveling at your glistening slit.

With the flat of his tongue, he licked from your entrance to your neglected nub, pausing to suck on it lightly. He ate with the hunger of a man starved. He steeled his tongue, probing your core and tasting you from within. He made out with your pussy, pulling back to spit on it which drew moans from you and had you squeezing your breasts in response.

Clark was good at this, not that you were surprised because of how good of a kisser he was, but fuck! The way he fingered your pussy, making sure to curve his fingers to hit that sensitive bundle of nerves inside was heavenly.

When he sped up his fingers and pushed down on your lower stomach, you gasped and realized he understood the assignment. He was rewarded with you squirting over his hands and chest.

“Such a good girl for me, Sunflower,” he said, before sucking your juices off of his fingers and moving your limp body up the bed, “Now, you’re going to be an extra good girl and take Sir’s dick.”

That was all the warning you received before Clark was pushing in, stretching you wide over his thick hardness. With every inch, he would pull out and press in an inch more than the last thrust. He made sure to stretch you slowly, keeping your tightness while allowing you to get used to his girth.

“That’s right, Sunflower, open those sweet petals for Sir,” Clark soothes your whines as he fucks into you, “I promise I’ll make it all better when you let me all…the way…in.” He punctuated his words with jolts from his hips.

When he is finally seated inside you, he pauses. The sudden stop has you reaching for Clark and moving your hips to gain friction.

“Look at you trying to fuck yourself on my cock,” he leaned over you and watched as tears flow from your eyes, “These tears are gorgeous, but use your words. Tell me what you want.”

“Sir, please,” you whined, looking into his eyes, “Need you to fuck me, please.”

The smile on Clark’s face is brilliant, he’s got you right where he wants you. He kissed your face, stopping to wipe away your tears with his tongue. Pulling back, he secured your legs around his hips before he leaned down to wrap one hand around both of your wrists, holding them above your head.

When Clark fucked you, he paid attention to every aspect of your body. He looked into your eyes. He kissed and nipped at your neck. He pinched and teased your nipples. He rubbed your clit while he pounded inside you.

Clark just did it better than any of your partners before. Maybe because you allowed yourself to be vulnerable around him? Or maybe because he was just…better. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that you were with him and he was inside you and you were all his.

You lost track of how many times you came, but Clark remembers every time. He committed them to memory, seeing you arch your back and feeling your walls flutter around him. He could tell by the sheen of sweat on your body and the way your body is vibrating that you were beyond spent. Possibly even a bit overstimulated. Perfect.

“You ready for my cum, Sunflower?” He licked his thumb and pressed on your clit as you keen, “Do you think you can hold on for me for just a bit longer?”

“Yes, Sir,” you moan as he slid his hands to your hips.

“There’s my good girl,” he groaned and began his assault on your pussy. At this angle, he can stimulate both your hooded center and your G-spot. A punishing pace that set you ablaze. While you held onto his biceps, you looked into his eyes. Where there used to be blue irises, only dark pupils remained. His curly hair was a sweaty mess on his forehead. He was barely a man now, more like an animal rutting into you.

Before long, his hips stutter in their onslaught. Breathing erratically, he squeezed your hips so hard you knew there would be bruises tomorrow. He moved to kiss your neck and latched onto your shoulder with his teeth as you feel every twitch of him releasing inside you. You know there will be bite marks in your shoulder for days but you don’t care.

Clark’s teeth left you, followed closely by his tongue soothing your almost-broken skin. Sometimes, he didn’t know his strength. And it was a close one this time. He was still inside you semi-hard before he decided to pull out slowly causing you to whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness.

He moved from the bed for a moment. You closed your eyes for a millisecond before you feel warm wetness between your legs.

“Just cleaning you up, Sunflower,” He wipes your delicate folds softly and throws the towel in the clothes hamper before crawling in bed beside you, “You go right to sleep, you deserve it.”

The last time you refer to yourself as Clark’s girlfriend is a year and a half into your relationship.

Clark proposes to you over dinner in the house you bought together. He bought the ring after you talked about marriage just two weeks ago. Well, technically, Bruce helped him buy the ring. As in, Bruce bought the jewelers store and had them design the perfect ring for you.

A smoky quartz center with marquise and pear-shaped citrine petals around it. You had mentioned more than once that you didn’t want a diamond engagement ring, you wanted something that matched your style.

Clark presented the ring to you on one knee, ever the traditionalist. You said yes, of course.

This man was your life, your hope, and your future. You looked forward to every minute of every hour of every day with him.

He is your light in the darkness, and you are his Sunflower.

A/N: Yes, the title is from "Sunflower" by Post Malone/Swae Lee. Yes, the song was for a Spider-Man movie. So, what? It's a good song.

**Tag List**

@brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67

@astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry

Let me know if you wanna be added and for what plz 😁 Also if you want to be removed from tags, lemme know!

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gingerrtarot · 1 year

Text

◌ ｡ PAC: “All eyes on me” - how you can fight your insecurities and start to stand out?

hello, everyone!

honestly this reading turned out to be pretty different from what the heading suggests🫡 but i hope it will still find those who it destined to find. So, as always, remember that this is a general reading, so it may it may not resonate with you. good luck~

pile 1 pile 2 pile 3

°｡ Pile 1. ◌

hey hey, group one!! first of all, why do you underestimate yourself so much? seriously, this group came through as the ones with poor self-esteem, so if it’s not about you it’s not your group. I see people here focusing on their flaws and weaknesses too much. It comes to the point when you see nothing good in yourself, you refuse to recognize just how many good and outstanding qualities you possess. Every one of your strengths turns to weakness in your eyes. But seriously, you are so freaking cool, guys. Cards show you as someone extremely talented, interested and unique. Your personality is fascinating. There are not many people like you in this world. You are remarkably smart and intelligent, be it in a spiritual or scientific way, or maybe you know everything about, for example, cinematography or astrology. But, i believe, there’s not just one field in which you are educated. You know a lot. And i think you are pretty much aware of yourself too. And that’s interesting, because you still have self-esteem problems. Maybe that’s because you didn’t even have a chance to really esteem yourself, to see your worth, to show yourself to others, maybe, and receive some feedback, which, i am sure, would have been positive. You possess qualities that allow you to attract not only friends, but fans. Many of you have a talent, an outstanding one. Especially for performing in public, maybe singing, dancing, comedy, modeling or whatever. Many of you are destined for fame here. Wow, guys.

But what to do with that low self esteem of yours? First, acknowledge all your strengths and abilities. Make a list of them, and a list of your accomplishments too. Read them everyday. Teach yourself to stop seeing only bad side. You probably don’t tell anyone about this problem, but it will be really helpful for you to share it with your close friend (family member, lover, etc.). You would receive needed support from them. You don’t even realise how much their praise, compliments and encouragement will boost your confidence. And you will receive it for sure.

If what I said about a talent does resonate with you, well, it’s just a crime to hide it from the world. “Firework” by Katy Perry just started to play, so yeah, you know what to do. Don’t be afraid to express yourself. Wear that outfit you are afraid to wear, go out with that make up that it “too bold”, sing out loud, dance, post whatever it is that you want and so on. Remember, you are a star!!

°｡ Pile 2. ◌

hellooo, group 2!! who do we have here? we have critics. I see that people here are very critical of themselves. You set high standards for yourself, you must be the best in everything. You have to be all that: beautiful, smart, educated, skilful, proper etc. You want to succeed everywhere and in everything. It is important for you to show that you are no worse than others. You may have a fear of being left behind. And this makes you “cling” to everything at once, which ultimately leads to the fact that you are not truly successful at anything. “If you run after two hares, you will catch neither”, you know. And that makes you feel insecure, doubt your abilities and skills. You always feel like you are not enough. For example, you want to send resume for a job, but then you think “oh, i am not good enough for this position, they will definitely find someone better”. And you give up without even trying. Yes, you also give up too easily. Impostor syndrome may be the thing for you.

In fact the problem here is that because of that you don’t put enough energy and efforts into things that are interesting for you, that you want to do. It’s so hard for me to focus on your reading now, something distracts me all the time. You may feel the same. You can’t be perfect at everything, you should focus on what you really like.

I see that you are fast learners. You easily perceive new information and grasp the essence of things. You are probably always aware of what is happening in the world, you know all the latest news, follow trends, and all the gossip about your surroundings is unlikely to go unnoticed by you. And I think that you would be good at spreading information. Something about the way you speak captivates people. You can become a good speaker, blogger or work in marketing sphere.

Don’t let your doubts stop you from working towards your goals. My advice to you is to stop thinking and start acting. if you are unsure of your abilities and skills, take courses to improve your qualifications so that you can feel more confident. And stop being afraid to try and experiment. You are afraid to send this resume because “of course, they won’t accept you”but just try it. Or you don’t start drawing, let’s say, because you’re sure that you’ll get some kind of nonsense, just do it, draw it, and then again and again so you’ll improve and understand that it’s not all that bad. Here you need to stop expecting something supernatural from yourself, it’s okay if you are not perfect, accept yourself as you are and do what you can to become better. It is better to try and fail than to frame yourself into this “perfection” and do nothing. Good luck!!

°｡ Pile 3. ◌

Hi, group 3! An interesting case here. People here either have a decent, healthy self esteem (and if that is the case i don’t have much to say to you) or pretend it to be so. I see you here as extremely flamboyant personalities. You know how to draw attention, how to make people love you and how to get whatever it is that you want. You are charismatic, fun and charming. You learnt to be this way. At first i didn’t see a problem here. So maybe you don’t realise it either. You show the world a person that is not you, and you get so used to it. You display signs of a person with high self-esteem, but deep inside there’s a lot of pain, insecurities and fears. I see your inner child is extremely hurt here. Your connection with them is messed up. You lost yourself while pretending to be someone else to deserve love of people. Maybe you, the way you are, didn’t fit into society and weren’t accepted and that made you change. Many of you here are truly differ from your surroundings. Damn, we can have geniuses in this group. Your ideas, ways of thinking and seeing this world are something that people may not understand. You have very rich imagination and a creative vision. You are one of those who are able to come up with truly original ideas. Many of you also possess psychic abilities and are great master manifestors. And you all are so strong, because whereas I see your inner self suffering so much you are still able to show the world an absolutely happy and content person.

I see your inner child here as literally “bottled up” with its problems, fears and wounds. And he has to face it all alone. You are too scared to “open this bottle” because you would have to feel it all too. Or maybe you are not even aware of it. But it’s still there, inside of you. And if you stumbled across this reading it’s not just by accident.

So, what cards advice you here. You need to reconnect with your inner child, to recall who you was and who you really are. Understand and become aware of all your inner pain, triggers and everything that may bother you. Stop pretending. Give yourself time to acknowledge it all, accept yourself and relive all that pain. Let your feelings and emotions out. I’m not a doctor, indeed, but some of you would really benefit from working with a therapist if a lot of what i said resonates with you. To be and not to seem to be, that’s what you have to learn.

#pick a pile #free readings #pac #pick a card #tarot #tarot cards #tarot reading #pick a picture #tarotcommunity #daily tarot #free tarot

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yjhariani · 4 months

Text

A brief scenario of Simon teaching gn!reader how to drive a motorcycle.

“Are you sure you’re not supposed to be on the back seat?” you asked as you balanced yourself on the motorbike.

You put both hands on the handle, holding the brakes while Simon flipped up the kickstand with one hand holding the back handle.

The two of you now were idle in the edge of an empty field near where you live. The area was fairly empty and Simon picked this place specifically for convenience of teaching you how to drive a motorcycle.

One day, you brought it up to him that you wanted to learn how to and Simon was on board immediately, without doubt. He did not even have to know if the reason was practical or because you wanted to do something that was of his interest. He did not care other than that you wanted to learn something from him.

“I could, but it’s going to be heavier for you,” Simon explained.

“Then, what if I fall? Or crash?” you questioned.

“Believe it or not, love, I might sound cruel, but it’s part of the process. You’ll fall or crash at some point, but my job here to make sure that it’s not going to be too bad of an accident,” Simon explained.

Looking at him disappointedly, Simon translated your face as concerned.

“I’ll be right next to you, I will catch up if you go too fast,” Simon promised. “Just remember to not panic.”

“You’re saying it like it’s easy,” you said.

“I believe in you,” Simon assured. “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if at the end of the day you’d be the one driving us home.”

Those first four words alone injected you with a sheer of confidence. It could be his tone, it could be his voice, or whatever. Maybe it was Simon all the way since he had always had that effect on you.

“Okay,” you nodded. “What do I do from here?”

“Turn the key,” Simon instructed, followed by you doing as he said. “Hold the break and press the started.”

The bike started humming into life.

“Then?” you asked.

“You loose the brake and… slowly accelerate,” Simon said. “Slowly. You’ll know when to take your foot off the ground.”

So, as he said, you slowly and carefully twisted the accelerator, feeling the bike vibrating more the more you cranked it up. The digital rev counter started to raise from 0 to around 10 and you eventually started to feel the bike moving forwards.

“Yeah, keep going,” Simon encouraged.

At some point, you lifted your foot off the ground and actually started going forwards as the counter keep rising.

“Doing good, love,” Simon commented, now lightly jogging next to you. “Don’t go too fast yet.”

For some reason, you kept looking at the counter that now had reached the number 20 and hearing Simon telling you not to go too fast caught you a little bit off guard. In result, you accidentally cranked the accelerator, but also immediately following it by gripping both brakes at the same time.

Before you knew it, you advanced past Simon and your balance was off.. Not even on the next second, you ended up on the ground with one of your foot trapped under the bike.

As any other time you messed up and ended up on the ground, the pain was nothing compared to the embarrassment. So, you started off with a little chuckle as you, with Simon’s help, pulled the bike up.

“Are you alright?” Simon asked, flipping down the kickstand with his foot and twisted the key to turn the bike off.

“I’m fine,” you said.

“Did I startle you? I’m so sorry, love,” Simon said.

“No, I’m just… well, I mean, a little, but that shouldn’t have stopped me,” you said.

“Well, now we both know something we shouldn’t do,” Simon said. “Now, let me have a look at your foot.”

“It doesn’t feel so bad,” you admitted, looking at your own foot, twisting it around so you both could see all sides of it. “The shoes softened the impact.”

“Just a bit of scratch. Let me know if it’s hurting, yeah?” Simon replied.

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“Alright. You ready to get back on?” Simon asked.

“Sure,” you nodded.

Whilst getting back on the driving position, you tried to remember the feeling of driving the bike right before you fell.

“Now that I think about it, I do feel that I was gripping the handles really tightly,” you said holding your upper arm before continuing, “It’s a bit tight here.”

“Yeah? Just remember to relax a little this time,” Simon said.

“Alright,” you nodded.

“Ready?” Simon asked.

You nodded.

From there, you redid the start up. This time, you did better than the previous one. Simon was smoothly jogging along next to you and letting out some encouragements every now and again. When it came to it, he instructed you on how to take a turn and how to eventually stop when you reached the full lap.

You did another lap with Simon simply jogging next to you. Eventually, his pace got faster and faster, following your own on the bike.

Stopping at the end of the lap again, you and Simon took a moment to rest. You sat next to the bike, drinking your water. Simon, right away, started to gently massaged your arm where you very earlier on said that you felt a little bit of stiffness on.

After some time, you decided to continue.

“Now, how ‘bout you get on the backseat?” you asked once you turned the bike on and was ready to move.

“Are you sure?” Simon asked.

“Yeah. Unless you don’t want to in case I fall again,” you answered.

“Won’t happen,” Simon assured. “Now, hold on tight and make sure you balanced the bike. There’s going to be a little bit of a shift when I get on.”

You gripped the brakes and propped both feet on the ground. Simon carefully got on the bike. As he said, there was a shift, but once he was settled, his balance supported yours in a way.

“Ready?” you asked.

“Ready,” Simon answered.

With that, you started the drive again. There was a difference on the drive now you had someone on the backseat. As Simon said, it was quite heavier on the accelerator, but otherwise it all felt almost the same.

Having an additional weight did caught you a little bit off guard during the turn and, in a state of panic, you gripped both brakes and ended up with the two of you being thrown forwards.

Luckily, Simon managed to keep the bike upwards with the only casualty being him pressing you against the handles.

“Are you hurt?” Simon immediately asked, his arms now holding the handles, entraping you, but not squeezing.

Again, it was probably the adrenaline, but the embarrassment somehow felt more painful than the little bit of pain you felt.

“No, just surprised,” you chuckled.

“Are you sure?” Simon continued.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Let me continue.”

“Alright,” Simon replied.

However, you both only stayed there for a moment.

“You can let go, boo,” you said.

“Right, yeah,” Simon said, realising that he still had his arms around you.

One more time, you did the start up and did a couple of laps.

When the two of you decided to go home, you volunteered to drive and, as he said earlier, Simon was not surprised.

Did the journey home went smoothly? Not as much as when Simon was driving. Did you both get home uninjured? Not entirely per the previous incidents. However, Simon was glad that he got to spend the day out with you. Surely today would be something that he thought about for quite a few months in the future.

Simon was just proud that you wanted to learn something, actually learned it, and got him involved.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost

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ruegarding · 4 days

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You know, if they’re going to show us Percy killing himself to get into college, can they at least tell us what he’s going to study, and let us see him feeling somewhat excited about it?

yeah, as far as i can tell the general consensus that percy is going for marine biology is bc of annabeth's throwaway line. if percy's major has been confirmed somewhere, i'd love to see it.

it's weird that rick hasn't written percy actually liking any of his classes since...mr brunner's??? which percy didn't even find the specific material interesting as much as he found mr brunner to be engaging. the lack of focus makes sense, at least, in pjo and hoo bc their focus is less on school, so percy's classes are on the backburner after tlt (outside of acknowledging he's not experiencing straight-up ableism and is therefore doing better), but w the focus on college in the new marketing trilogy, percy's lack of interest stands out. it would be so easy to have percy say that he really enjoyed x class or lecture or assignment and wanted to study it more/focus on it in college. instead, rick has written percy to be slacking off in class, as if that was his problem and not, you know, the ableism he was experiencing (which is why mr brunner was the exception) and the fact that he had to miss a year of school bc of hoo. also, i'm unsure what accommodations (if any) alternative high is making for percy...considering he says he can quote sparknotes instead of shakespeare makes me doubt they're giving him audiobooks for his dyslexia...but the fact that percy is written to be struggling in his senior year bc he's lazy and not disabled is literally just ableism.

it makes it difficult to see college as a "good ending" when percy 1) has never showed an interest in pursuing a specific field of study (outside of him technically being a published author in-universe, which i'm not sure counts bc it's not referenced in the series...? is the implication percy writes the books after going to college? idk.), 2) is working himself incredibly hard to the point where's he's falling asleep in class, and 3) has to leave his mother/family behind to live across the country. rick also changed it so that demigods don't really have to worry abt monsters once they're 18 (which is coding for their disabilities...) and retconned nru so it requires good sat scores and isn't a full college (it's a satellite campus w uc berkeley and annabeth goes to classes at berkeley bc they don't have what she wants at nru???), so there's really no unique incentive for percy to be going to college at all, let alone in new rome. it's a series of very strange writing choices. to say the least.

#do i think percy could enjoy college? yes #do i think w the way rick is writing him like percy would enjoy college? no #am i frustrated w the way rick is handling all of this? yes #does that one blog post abt percy thinking college is a breeze make any of this better? no #does rick even write the blog posts? i don't pay attention tbh #but it would be funny to me if the only good thing to come out of this isn't even written by rick #wottg spoilers #rr crit #queenmorganlafay #answered #disability #marketing trilogy #<- also i've decided to call these books this

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jiminjamms · 1 year

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sex therapy :: 19. open up

chapter tags/warnings: dad! toji. angsty! megumi. strong language. classism. infidelity. manipulative undertones. naoya sucks ass.

word count: 3.6k

notes: thank you for waiting for this update! i was taking exams for some work-related licenses and started my big girl recently. i've also added more chapters to this series because i underestimated when i first planned out the fic. likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. enjoy! xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

“Can...we talk?”

At first, Toji blinked.

Naturally, he wasn’t sure how to react to such a situation: his client, who he had assumed avoided him for weeks, now standing at his apartment door? This was new.

He didn’t quite understand how or why you ended up here at this hour, but he forced a worried smile. “Yeah, of course, we can talk.”

When you first tried to speak, your voice only came out as a hoarse croak. So you had to clear your throat, and you forced words to come out again.

“I’m sorry,” you managed to eke out.

“Sorry?” Toji raised a brow in surprise. “For what?”

Hesitating, you bit gently at your inner cheek. “If I tell you, can you please promise me you won’t get mad? Or judge me? I’m just...looking for someone to talk to, and I really, really need you to promise me.”

In hindsight, that was a stupid question because you both knew that listening was his job, his profession, his field of expertise. Even with the minimal information Toji had gathered in these few seconds, he probably began piecing together your story on his own already. He was good like that—that was what made him your therapist, so there was no need to sugarcoat anything when he already read right through you.

Still, Toji eased you with a sturdy nod. “Sure. I promise.”

You didn’t even know where to start in this apology, frankly. You were sorry for doubting him, sorry for ignoring all the red flags he had pointed out about your husband Naoya Zenin. In the end, you were sorry for being so fucking stupid.

The first time Toji had warned you about Naoya, you should have listened. Toji was the expert here, so how blind could you have been? There was nothing like the crushing realization when you realized for yourself that winning your husband back was nothing more than a pipe dream.

Far before marrying you, Naoya had long loved someone else. Sure, ‘love’ may be a strong word, but why else would Naoya never want to be home? He could hardly find interest in you and became revolted when looking your way. He must have felt so wrong, so immoral, when cheating on his side-girlfriend for his wife.

The way Naoya had spoken to you tonight just rubbed salt into the wound. Just shut up. Know your boundaries. Because you were just, in his words, a fucking ornament.

His mistress sure wasn’t, though, and anyone could place the winning bet that he had gone off to spend the night with her.

Why were you not enough?

Was it because she was pretty and you were ugly? That she was smart and you were dumb? That she was funny and you were dull? Just...why? What was the reason?

And, through thick swallows and blinked-back tears, you told Toji all of that.

In one gusto, you have once again dumped all your troubles upon his shoulders. A horrible person, that was what you were—and knowing this, your gaze stayed low.

From your rambling onslaught, Toji must be processing a lot but gave away no emotional indication. From his years at work, he probably had heard it all.

You waited for Toji to retort with a pompous ‘I told you so!’ or burst into a disdainful laugh—that was how Naoya would have responded. But those reactions never came.

On the contrary, Toji tapped his chest. “Come here.”

You frowned over at him, brushing a stray tear from your chin. “What?”

“Just get over here.”

When you still wavered with reluctance, Toji pulled you tight against him—one hand firmly pressed against your lower back as the other guided your face to nestle by his shoulder.

Not expecting this, you were initially stiff and awkward in his arms. Toji’s chest was hard and muscled rather than comfortable, chiseled from his frequent strength training sessions at the gym. But when he began to rub slow circles at your waist with one hand, the other running up and down your back in gentle strokes, something about these little gestures let all your emotions go.

Slowly, you brought your arms up to wrap around him, hugging him in response. He was warm, his body like a furnace that heated your skin. You curled your hands into tight fists, grabbing the fabric of his T-shirt along with your hold. 

Then, like floodgates bursting, you melted into Toji with a sob.

“What have I done wrong?” you wailed. “Why can’t I do anything right? What do I even do from here?”

Toji listened silently as you continued to bawl, releasing all your anger and pain from the terrible weeks that you had endured. He squeezed you the tightest when you sobbed the loudest, comforting you with his ‘there there’ hums.

“Everything will be okay,” he affirmed eventually, but his words seemed so difficult to believe.

“No! Everything won’t be okay, Toji,” you cried and shook your head into his neck. “My husband doesn’t want me. Then, if Naoya doesn’t want me, the Zenins wouldn’t want me. Then, no one will want me!”

“Not true,” Toji was quick to say. He pulled you closer, his large hands patting your upper back too. “Forget Naoya, he’s an utter jerk. He might leave you, but you know who won’t? At the very least, your father won’t—he loves you.”

“But I would have disappointed him.”

“How?” he countered sharply. “If he had known how his son-in-law was treating his daughter, why would your father be disappointed in you?”

Between sniffles, you ruminated his points, half-convinced.

Toji, breathing out, then added, “Also...I won’t leave you, either. I care about you. There. You’ve already got two on your side. You will not be alone.”

“But then, what about,” you kept your lips pressed onto his collarbone, “What about the Zenins? Would they turn their backs on me too?”

Underneath your fingertips, you could feel Toji tensing at the name. “With a family so large, there are bound to be those supporting you as well. You make it sound like all his aunts, his uncles, his...,” he paused briefly, “...his cousins, all worship Naoya when a household like that is rife with drama beneath surface level. Family isn’t family for something like the Zenins. Politics comes first. Business comes first.”

His answer came out with such confidently that you silently questioned how he could be so sure.

But you suddenly remembered the kind embraces from Mai and your heart softened at the thought of Maki.

Maybe Toji was right.

A soundless sigh flew from your mouth before your arms tightened around Toji's torso, hugging him and resting your chin on his shoulder. After several moments longer, you finally released one long exhale, your tears having stopped and your breathing less erratic.

Your heart was like lead in your chest, but you pulled your face away from him.

“I’m sorry,” you rasped, throat raw. “My makeup got onto your shirt.”

Toji’s smile was soft.

“That’s fine.” He couldn’t give a damn about his white top. Reassuringly, he ran his hands along your waist before settling on your hips, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin. “As long as you are feeling better, that’s all I need. Besides, that’s my job, yes?”

“Yes...” you mumbled shyly, wiping tears from your face with the heel of your hand.

At the sight, Toji reached toward a tissue box behind the door frame.

“Don’t cry anymore. Naoya isn’t worth the heartache, I’ll guarantee you that.” He dabbed at your pretty face with the napkin in his hands, wiping away not only the remaining tears but also the stream of snot. Lovely. “I am your friend, okay? Before the therapist stuff. We will fix this, together. That’s what friends are for.”

Friends.

When Toji first called him your friend, you did not think that he would somehow become your closest confidant.

You leaned into his touch briefly, sinking into the comfort of his palm.

“Feeling better, princess?”

Toji watched you with a chartreuse glimmer in his eyes before you finally pulled yourself from his grasp. His fingers flexed at the lost touch, almost like he was hesitant to let you go, but who was he to stop you? It wasn’t like Toji was your husband or anything.

"I am,” you replied. “Thank you.”

“Any time.” He hummed in the ensuing silence before stepping to the side. “Since you’re already here, why don’t you come in? I wouldn’t want you going back like this. Naoya won’t be home, so at least you will have some company here.”

Tempting.

“I really shouldn’t stay...”

“What? Are you sure?”

No, you were not sure, and Toji sure as hell knew that.

He lolled his head toward the interior, a few of his black strands sliding across his forehead with the movement.

“C’mon, I won’t bite,” he reassured before chuckling, “unless...you want me to.”

You shot the therapist a glare, but the resolve to stay upset faded when you saw him gleam with a wide smirk. Well? that mischievous spark in him seemed to say. What do you think?

Rolling your eyes, you initially snorted at the offer but could not help smiling at the stupid joke immediately afterward. Your body crumpled forward as you burst into giggles, realizing that this was the first time in weeks that you were...laughing?

“Fine,” you relented.

Toji seemed to beam in silent victory, which was cute coming from someone who looked so tough. He swept his arm in a gentle arc toward his apartment.

“Then, after you, m’lady.”

You gusYou gushed at the title.

"If you insist,” and you stepped in.

The warmth from his condo was the first to greet you as though a fireplace had been crackling in the distance. For someone who somehow had the means to afford such a luxurious space, Toji went simple in his furnishings. His cream-colored walls were cleared, save for some framed art pieces that dotted the corridors, and there were no ornate cabinets or dazzling décor. His taste in minimalism and timelessness contrasted with the grandeur in your palatial-like residence, but both styles had their appeal.

He had a gray and beige color scheme going on with the couches, the tabletops, and the lighting fixtures. The walnut wood flooring added a rustic touch to the apartment, and every corner effortlessly converged refined aesthetics with the sense of home. Even the smell inside was cozy because the apartment emanated of him—of Toji himself: spices with the redolence of bergamot and sage.

He guided you through a (very wide) hallway that opened into an equally expansive living room. Towards the side was a spiral staircase that led to an upper floor and, further ahead, floor-to-ceiling windows opened to an evening panorama.

The sky was completely dark, with the sun sunk below the horizon long ago, and the waxing moon hung like a silver sliver far away. Holding your breath, you stepped towards the glass, observing the bustle far below that twinkled like firecrackers against the concrete backdrop.

“You know, your place...is a lot nicer than I expected.”

The man tucked his large hands into his front pockets. “I’m offended.”

Instantly, you grew flustered. “No, I didn’t mean it like that!” (Yes, you totally did.) “It’s just that Sukuna had made it sound like—” That you were dirt poor. “But then Geto said...” Okay, you shouldn’t be dragging more people into this. “Never mind.”

Quickly, you glanced back outside again, hoping to look like you were distracted by the vista.

“But then Sukuna and Geto said what?” Toji pried, not letting you live this down. He appeared uncharacteristically intrigued. He wanted to know what his coworkers had spilled, by how much you knew. “What have the other therapists said about me?”

“Ah, nothing much really,” you confessed, which was the truth to some extent.

“How much is ‘nothing much?’”

“Just, well,” you rolled your lips together in thought, “maybe that something, some event, or some person wronged you.” Geto’s words rang fresh in your head. “That ‘Toji just isn’t where he could possibly be.’”

Half-expectantly, you looked over at the said man from under your lashes, waiting for him to comment on the matter. Toji always appeared so hesitant to talk about his past, but you hoped that he would stop being so mysterious. It was as though he was an enigma for cautious reasons, assessing how much he could open up before he could entirely trust you.

Toji had pursed his lips as the silence in the living room became uncomfortable. But just when he appeared ready to speak, someone else filled the silence for him.

“Why the hell are you here?”

All heads turned to a frowning teenager who stood by the foot of the stairs.

He had dark eyes—dark eyes glared only at you, narrowed into a violent abyss as though he was mentally aiming daggers into your soul. For a fleeting moment, you were puzzled at who this boy was until Toji spoke first.

“That’s no way to greet a guest, Megumi.”

Oh, right. Toji had an eighteen-year-old son, and Megumi was his name. While you had spoken with the teenager on the phone before, it was different to see him in person for the first time.

For starters, the physical similarities between father and son became immediately apparent. Sure, Toji’s features had a rough edge around them—shaped from his additional years in life—but the two shared the same black stands, pointed noses, and taut lips. There was no denying the flawless genes that flowed between them.

Megumi, though, had a subtle softness to him. The teenager was smaller and shorter compared to his imposing and rugged father, but he tried to mask that youthful innocence instead with his brash style. He pulled off that ‘wild’ look better than most boys his age could, his hair longer and more tousled. The way he stood in a contrapposto, coupled with how stylish he appeared in his fuchsia tee and black cargo pants, made him look like a model from a streetwear magazine. He reached for an ear piercing with fingers adorned with flashy rings, toying with one particular stud as he examined you.

Goodness, Megumi Fushiguro was as good-looking as Sukuna had hyped him up to be.

“Well?” the boy’s irritated voice snapped you back to the present. “What are you doing at our apartment?”

“Oh, me?” You pointed to yourself. Well, no shit. Who else was he talking to? “I, um—”

“You’re another one of my dad’s women, aren’t you?” the teenager asked out of the blue, leaving you staring at him dumbly.

“One of your dad’s who?”

“Hey!” Toji warned, tone sharp. Frowning at the boy, he reprimanded him with one forceful thwack. Dad Toji was very different than Therapist Toji. “Watch what you—"

“You’re the one who called me down here!” Megumi shouted back, pushing his father’s arm away.

“Yes, I did. So what took you ten minutes to get here?”

“I was in the middle of Valorant. I left my team mid-game but for this?”

And suddenly, there was this thick and awkward tension that engulfed the room. If you had the magical ability to teleport at will, you would. Toji was obviously distraught at his son’s outburst and Megumi was similarly bristled by your presence.

About you? Well, there wasn’t anything you could do.

You took a few steps back. It was unsettling to be caught in a heated confrontation between father and son, and you silently wondered if you should just slip away to let those two sort out their miscommunications.

“So, this is your new strategy, huh?” Megumi seethed vehemently toward his father, capitalizing upon the silence. “Telling me that Nobara and Yuuji are here only for you to introduce me to, out of everyone in this world, her?!”

The attack felt personal when Megumi raised his arm and pointed squarely at you, even if the boy glowered at his dad instead. You had frozen, stopped by confusion, as Megumi continued in anger: “What is the meaning of this!”

Toji, who was returning his son’s glare, glanced at you briefly. He didn’t show this side to him very often: the one where he was just a single dad, handling a moody teenage son at home.

You wondered if Toji felt weird that you were watching him deal with Megumi’s tantrum. At least, he must be embarrassed that this was how your first encounter with Megumi was going, but he didn’t offer much into his internal dialogue because he clenched his teeth, his eyes sliding slowly to his son again.

“Megumi,” Toji started, “please...don’t point at people. That’s not nice.”

His voice was sterner than before, but the boy responded with a dramatic scoff.

“Nice?!” Megumi repeated. “You want me to be nice to her? Is this some sick joke?!” His face twisted with disbelief. “With all the horrible crap that had happened to us, what good thing has she ever done? Just because she’s pretty, and suddenly, you’ve forgiven her for everything?”

You blinked, stumped.

Forgive you?

Why would Toji need to forgive you?

Perplexed, you turned to Toji but he did not meet your gaze.

“There is nothing to forgive her for. She hasn’t done anything wrong,” the older man defended, but Megumi wanted to hear none of this.

He was out for blood.

“That’s because you’re too fucking infatuated to see the demon she is,” he huffed, voice laced with bitterness. “Dad, I wish you would put your goddamn brain to use and stop thinking with your dick first.”

“Language!” Toji snapped with a roar. “She’s our friend!”

“Friend, my ass! I don’t like your fucking friends!”

With eyes blown wide, Megumi clenched his fists so tightly that his hands began to shake.

“I just...I just can’t believe you,” and when his voice cracked, there was pain that bubbled from the frustration. “I already told you that I don’t want to meet whoever you are bringing home. Just stop trying so hard for my sake. This hurts me, and this also hurts you. Can’t you see that, Dad? Nothing’s going to bring Mom back! I’m over that, alright?” His Adam’s apple bobbed when he gulped, though, before he finally added: “And I’m tired!”

At that, Megumi walked—correction, stormed—away.

“Fuck this shit,” he spat and marched up the stairs, grumbling more profanities upon his climb.

The footsteps’ volume started to fade, but not before a loud bang startled you when Megumi slammed his bedroom door shut, the entire apartment seemingly shuddering with the sound.

Beside you, the Toji that you had always known—the snarky man who always seemed so unruffled by even the wildest moments—crumbled a little when he sighed. He rubbed his face with a free hand, sinking his forehead into his palm as he muttered indiscernibly.

He collected himself he turned back around to you, but you saw that his shoulders sagged with an invisible weight, the emerald glimmer in his eyes now a dim flicker. Within ten minutes, Toji had grown to look stressed and incredibly tired.

“Hey,” Toji started, his voice impossibly small for a man as large as him. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry that you had to see that. He’s usually a good kid. I’ll talk to him again later.”

You bit your lip.

“Oh, um...Well...That’s okay,” you eventually replied, which was a total lie because that was not okay. Even as you offered a small smile for support, Megumi—his words, his tone, his ferocious glare—slashed at your heart. You rationalized his behavior aloud to ease your own pain. “Megumi’s eighteen, and you know what teenagers are like: hormonal with their mood swings all the time. You are a great father, Toji. This isn’t your fault.”

“No. This is my fault,” he replied very quickly.

Oh. So instead you said: “I get it.”

“Except you don’t get it.”

Your heart sank at his words, realizing that you truly did not understand where this father-son conflict stemmed from. Was it...was it because of you?

You never intended to burden anyone, yet your mere existence appeared to be doing just that.

It was painful to see Toji like this. During your lowest lows, he always offered considerable comfort and renewed confidence, but you weren’t sure what to say to provide him with the same. By some weird twisted fate, Toji now needed you more than you needed him. As a therapist, he had a special soothing effect, and never have you so badly wished for the same.

“Then,” this time you were more careful with your words, “Then, help me understand. Help me so that I can then help you.”

Tone resolute, you longed to learn about the unspoken difficulties that Toji had been facing by himself. While you had your troubles, he must have had many more for his son—not even Toji himself—to act this way.

Perhaps you also cared for him more than you thought because, as he noted himself, he’s your friend.

Toji held a long inhale, thinking and thinking and thinking, before breathing out in one audible go.

“Where do I even start?”

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: I loved fleshing out our relationship with Toji from a channel to mutually release sexual frustrations to a friendship built upon shared vulnerabilities. Also, Megumi is very much in his emo and rebellious teenage era. Like most people his age, he has his reasons…

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heavenlyraindrops · 7 months

Text

Change With the Seasons| Stardew Valley| Sebastian x Reader

♡♡♡♡♡♡

Chapter Summary:

After befriending Abigail, she invites you to hang out with her friends at the Stardrop Saloon. You agree, deciding that socializing would be a good idea.

You did not expect Sebastian to be there.

♡♡♡♡♡♡

Chapter Two: the Stardrop Saloon.

Here is the Masterlist. This is also available on Quotev and AO3. I’d appreciate it if you guys could follow me on there!

♡♡♡♡♡♡

You were browsing in Pierre’s store when you had first met Abigail. The purple hair interested you enough to consider her worthy of conversation, and upon speaking to her you realized that the impression that the purple hair had given you did not disappoint.

��Right… I heard someone new had moved into the old farm.” She tilted her head, tapping a painted nail against her cheek. “Shame, really. Not that you moved in. I just liked exploring those overgrown fields by myself.”

You smiled and shrugged. “Well, you can still come over and explore. I doubt I’ll be able to clean up all of it before the end of the season.” At your words, her eyes lit up and she smiled her gratitude.

“Thanks. You know, you’re actually pretty cool.”

“Am I?” You asked nervously, picking up a bag of parsnip seeds and bringing it to the counter, where Pierre was waiting.

“Yeah. Say, today’s Friday right? Me and my friends usually go to the Saloon and hang out. You should come with!”

You looked up. “Really?”

“Yeah!”

You shrugged. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to meet some new people.” Abigail grinned, flashing finger guns at you as you exited the store, her words trailing after you:

“See you this evening!”

You were hanging around outside the Stardrop Saloon, waiting for Abigail to arrive. You had done your best to look nice, exchanging your dirty overalls and muddy boots for a sweater and shoes that actually looked clean.

You recognised her wavy purple hair from a distance, and waved at her. She waved back, enthusiastically, and met you at the door before leading you in.

“Seb and Sam usually play pool, and I just sit on the couch, but it’ll be fun to not be third wheeling this time,” she said.

“Seb and Sam?”

Abigail looked at her. “Haven’t you met them?”

You tilted your head. “I don’t think so?”

“Well, I guess you will now.”

The first one to enter was Sam. He had his blond hair pushed back and upwards, and grinned at you. “Whoa, are you the new farmer?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Cool.” He turned to Abigail. “Where’s Seb?”

Abigail shrugged.

Sam sighed. “I’m not so good,” he muttered. Then perked up at your confused look. “At pool, I mean. Maybe if I…”

He proceeded to try some strange trick on the pool table and sent a ball flying.

“Just admit it,” Abigail said. “Seb’s gonna kick your ass. Again.”

Sam gestured at a stick and jerked his head towards you. “Wanna play?”

“Nah… I’m no good.”

“Try it!”

“No.”

“Just do it,” Abigail cajoled you. You rolled your eyes, lifting up your stick.

“Okay Nike representative,” you muttered, before positioning yourself, and jerking the stick forward.

It missed the ball completely.

You heard a snicker. A new voice. You shot up. “I told you I’m no… what are you doing here?”

Sebastian flicked a strand of hair out of his eyes, quirking an eyebrow. “I could ask you the same thing.”

You scoffed, tossing the stick at him, much to Sam’s disappointment, and went to join Abigail on the couch. Seb was short for Sebastian. How could you not think of that?

“Have you two met?” Abigail asked, looking in between Sebastian and you.

“Yeah, he told me to fuck off at the docks.”

“Objection,” he said in a bored voice, positioning himself at the pool table. “I said no such thing.”

Your hand flew to your chest. “Surely you jest?” You said, mocking his- only slight- use of old man dialect. You watched his brow furrow. About three balls went into their respective holes. Sam squawked with terror as his turn came around.

Abigail watched you both with a strange expression, then turned to you. “Let’s get some food or something.”

“Yeah, sure,” you said, getting up and walking over to the counter. Abigail turned to you, with a weird look on her face that you couldn’t decipher.

“Hey, what did Seb really say at the docks?”

You scoffed. “Nothing. Just said “tHe oCeAn iS bEtTeR enJoYeD aLoNe” after I tried to introduce myself, which pretty much implies he wants me gone, right? And we’d just met. So rude.” You paid for a pizza, balancing it on your hand as you walked back to the arcade area. Abigail trailed after you.

“Hey… he’s just… not very sociable. Like, he’s just like that. You shouldn’t really take him seriously or anything.”

“Sure, whatever,” You said, placing the pizza on a corner table. It had two red plush stools, one of which you flopped down on, with Abigail following suit.

“Whoa,” Sam said. “I love this.”

“Y/N chose it,” Abigail said.

“How’d you know?” Sam asked, picking up a slice.

“Sam, get back over here. You’re just looking for an excuse to not play against me ‘cause you’re losing.”

Sam scurried back, denying Sebastain’s accusations after promptly losing the game about five minutes later. You balanced your chin on your palm, and your elbow on the table, watching them in silence while Abigail took a shot at an arcade game.

More specifically, you intensely stared at Sebastian.

You couldn’t help it. You found him pretty, although if asked you would go to great lengths to deny it. Even to yourself. Yet you still stared, so there was that.

Sebastian caught you staring, and raised an eyebrow, smirking. You scowled, face burning, and turned back to your food. You could still feel his stare burning into you, so you went and joined Abigail at the arcade game to distract yourself.

For an asshole, he was pretty.

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hooked-on-elvis · 5 months

Note

Hello!! I was just wondering about something...we don't really have a understanding of Elvis' personality, yeah we have books, videos and articles about the people they were around him but I'm talking about REALLY getting a hold of what personality he had is what's been circling my mind lately.

I don't know why, I've been really interested in personalities recently lol specifically Elvis'😅

Hi, sweetie! Yours is a good question to keep in mind, really. I like to wonder on this topic too. I guess Elvis' personality is very difficult to summarize because of the way his actions contradicted themselves in the messages they give. He was mainly a good person, as we all know, but also incoherent and even scary at times. It's frustrating trying to describe him because nothing seems to fit well-enough to describe how intense he was.

One thing we know for sure is how dual Elvis was - and we all are, no doubt, but Elvis's duality was very prominent, very much like changing one thing into the complete opposite in no time, as if there was no middle ground, just this or that.

The way I see it, EP was like a whole universe with all it's wonders and scary truths put together at once; like white and black, the good and bad, fire and rain, light and dark, a desert weather and a harsh winter in just one little space. He could be a spontaneous, extroverted open person, very sweet, generous, peaceful, attentive, warm, easy-going, friendly, supportive, affectionate, loyal, very wise, meditative, spiritually fervent believer in God, family-oriented, just an ingenuous little boy with a soothing peaceful and loving energy that could calm the most anxious of hearts that approached him, without even meaning to, and yet at the same extent he could also be shy, a loner, mean (here and there, both in words and actions), freezing cold, selfish, a loner, unreasonable, hot-tempered, promiscuous, sly, hopeless and lost, a control freak and a reckless disturbed man with such intense energy people could be afraid of doing something that could unleash the beast in him (that's why very, very little of his friends or family were brave enough to go against any thing Elvis would say/do or with his way of thinking), and then again he would turn into something else... He would look so confident, so strong and self-assured, a very powerful entity, but around the ones he trusted just enough he still let himself be vulnerable, acting just like a baby, begging for someone to take care of him, to show him patience, understanding, to make him feel safe, to hold him and never let go.

With the little knowledge we have about EP, we could use those and many adjectives to describe his personality but we can't summarize Elvis Presley better than to simply say he was human. Elvis was "too much of everything"... overwhelming, in a good and a little bad way too. The way he was such a good person, the way through his friends, family, co-workers and fans' memories Elvis sounds like one of the best people one could ever have the pleasure of meeting in this life, his moments of irrational and hurtful actions (towards people and himself) confuses us when we try to understand what Elvis was really about. I bet it was very confusing to understand him even for his family, lovers and friends, so it wouldn't be easy for us to understand him when we not really met him in person.

The King's personality is so intriguing! That's why there's books with analysis in both scientific medical and social fields, psychologists and psychiatrists wrote after studying Elvis' behavior patterns and what they tells us about him. Much beyond the stories their friends and general acquaintances told and how they portrayed EP in those many books and interviews we read/saw over the years, I think those psychological studies are the best way to go in depth about Elvis' personality. Even so I don't believe one single book can do all the accurate, proper work on it, one of those books I can mention now is "The Inner Elvis - A Psychological Biography Of Elvis Aaron Presley" by Peter O. Whitmer Ph.D. - I haven't read the book myself because I want to finish the friends and family books, the most important ones at least, before going deeper into Elvis' personality analysis but I've read parts of it and it's interesting. I would recommend you, if you haven't yet, to read this book.

Anyhow, I think we'll never have an accurate picture of Elvis Presley as a person, friend. One: Because people in general are difficult to understand. We contradict ourselves all the time, according to the situations we face. And two: Because nobody, for the best they can be at reading people, can really tell us what goes on inside another one's heart and mind. I guess being such a mystery is another wonder of Elvis. Another thing we can be sure of about him is that he was even not close to be a boring person.

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis the king #elvis fans #elvis fandom

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crazyunsexycool · 1 year

Text

Kissing booth

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: kissing, some pining, fluff

A/N: I was half asleep when I thought of this and started writing it last night so if it isn’t good oh well. It’s just a quick little something because I’ve been wanting to write more for Steve!!!

It was no secret that Steve Rogers was one of the school’s hottest guys. He was sweet, kind, artistic, and most interesting of all he could be very shy. He was also captain of the football team. In other words almost everyone had a crush on him. Yourself included. But it wasn’t time to focus on the man that was basically sex on legs, even if he was shirtless and throwing around a football with his equally attractive friends.

“Are you listening?” Sharon waved a hand in front of your face as she chuckled. “You might want to wipe the drool off.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Anyways back to the topic, the sorority needs to come up with a fundraiser.”

“Well I only have a few minutes before I have to get back to practice. What do you have so far?”

You show Sharon your notebook with the ideas that you already had.

****

“Why don’t you go over there and talk to her?” Bucky asks Steve.

“No way, especially not with Sharon there.”

Sam throws the football back to Bucky and looks over his shoulder.

“Bucky and I will distract Sharon and you can talk to… what’s her name?”

“Y/N.” Steve provides.

“Well we can distract Sharon and you go talk to Y/N.”

“Too late.” Bucky says. All three of them watch as you grab your things and walk away.

“I’m gonna hit the showers.”

“Yeah you go do that.”

“Hey, where is Rogers going?” Sharon asked once she stopped in front of Bucky and Sam.

“Showers. I have a question for you though.”

“Yes?” Sharon raises a brow and waits for Sam to ask.

“Your friend, is she single?”

“Y/N?”

They both nod.

“So single it hurts. Of course she has a crush on the golden boy. But she won’t talk to him.”

Sam and Bucky smirk at each other.

“How would you feel about helping to play matchmaker?”

“Please, I’ll do anything. I’m sick of watching them look at each other like lovesick puppies.” Sharon says.

“Have you guys come up with a fundraiser idea yet?”

“No. That’s why she was here, we were talking about ideas.”

“I think you might like mine. You can even take all the credit.” Bucky says with a grin.

“I’m all ears Barnes.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A few days later after having met with Sharon on the field the sorority had decided on what the fundraiser should be. A fair would be set up for the end of the semester. It would be a great way to blow off some steam after finals. Some professors even volunteered for the dunk tank and the pie throwing booth. Natasha, the sorority president, even had a friend that could help her get some rides set up for at least two days and at a very cheap price.

You stood in the front yard of the sorority house as you tried to put together your booth. Each of your sisters would have a booth they had to put together and come up with what you would sell. Your brilliant idea was a kissing booth. If you could get some of the football players or frat guys and some of your sisters to sign up in shifts, you’re sure you’d make a good amount of money. The issue you currently have though is that your booth is more like a pile of nothing.

“Need some help?”

You hear behind you. Steve walks over to you until he’s standing beside you, hand on his hips. He gives you a lopsided grin and his undivided attention. Your brain stopped working for a moment as his grin slowly disappeared. You shake your head to try and forget all of the inappropriate thoughts from your mind.

“Yes, I need a lot of help. Please.”

“What are you supposed to be doing?”

“A booth. Everyone in the sorority is responsible for creating a booth and managing it. I’m just not good at…” you wave your hand toward the pile you have in front of you. “Building stuff.”

“I doubt that, you just need some instruction. If you had that then you could put anything together.”

“My Ikea furniture would beg to disagree.”

Steve chuckles as he starts to move the pieces around to try and get a feel for what needed to be done. He pulls out his phone and sends a text.

“I’ll have it put together for you, don’t worry.”

There he goes giving you that blinding smile again. You throw your arms around his shoulders.

“Thank you so much! I don’t think I would have been able to put this together at all.”

“Yeah,” Steve clears his throat as you notice the pink tint creeping up into his cheeks. “It’s no problem. I can call you when it’s ready, that way you don’t have to just sit here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.” He smiles again and you head inside.

From the window of her room Sharon had been watching the interaction. She groaned when you went inside.

Sharon: he sent her inside 🤦🏼‍♀️

Sam: I told you this wouldn’t work!

Bucky: don’t worry about it. At the fair it will be time for plan b.

Sharon: What's plan b?

Bucky: making Steve jealous 😈😈

~~~~~~~~~

It had been a week since Steve put the booth together for you. Since then you had bumped into each other at a coffee shop and ended up sitting together. You told him about your classes and what you wanted to do when you were done. He told you about his. You were surprised to find out he was an art history major.

It wasn’t lost on you that some girls that saw you together gave you nasty looks just because you were sharing a table with Steve. You’d be jealous too if you saw him giving his undivided attention to someone else. The giddiness in his eyes and the soft smile on his lips was surely reflected back to him as you shared stories about the football team and the sorority.

After an hour of sitting together you had to part ways. But first you exchanged numbers and left the coffee shop with matching smiles. It would be a few days before you would see him again at the fair and you couldn’t wait.

~~~~~~~~

Day one of the fair was off to a start. Everyone that was meant to help was already there wearing the staff t-shirts designed by one of the new pledges. The weather was perfect to be outside. It was warm enough that it was comfortable to be outside for hours. You were making the final touches to your booth and looking over your sign up sheet. Every few hours you had volunteers come in to replace you and whichever football team player was meant to be with you. A smile lit your face as you saw that every time you were signed up for the booth Steve had signed up with you. Your friends however had other plans.

Steve was there early with the hopes of talking to you before everyone started showing up. He had made up his mind that he’d ask you out on a date today. All he had to do was walk through his group of friends and yours to get to your booth. He could already see you moving around and setting up.

“Where do you think you’re going, golden boy?” Nat called out. Her playful tone let him know that something was going on. “You’re on the dunk tank first.”

“No, I’m at the kissing booth first.”

“No, I had to make some changes and I need you at the dunk tank. Sam is going to be at the kissing booth with Y/N first.” She informs Steve. He narrows his eyes at the group that consists of Nat, Sharon, Pepper, Bucky, Thor and Sam.

“Fine, let me just go say hi and I’ll be right back.”

“Sorry I need you and the guys to help with setting up.”

Steve huffed in frustration but helped anyway. He was sure he’d be able to escape at some point and talk to you.

*****

“Good morning, ready to get your smooching on.” Sam said as he walked behind your booth. You chuckled and shook your head.

“Ready as I’ll ever be. Have you seen Steve? He’s supposed to be opening with me.”

“Oh, Nat needed him at the dunk tank,” Sam pointed in the direction Steve was at “so I came to substitute him for now. Hope that’s ok.”

“Of course.” You tried to not let your disappointment show, you had been looking forward to spending most of the day with Steve and if you were brave enough even ask him out on a date.

“Awesome, now where are the ladies?”

You couldn’t help but smile up at him. The rest of the morning was rather entertaining as Sam flirted with everyone that came up to his line. He even sent you a flirty wink here and there. You were completely oblivious to the glare Steve was sending Sam’s direction, it should have been him at the booth with you. Instead he has to watch Sam flirt with you and other people kissing you. He couldn’t wait until it was time to change positions.

******

“What is that face for? You’ve been in a bad mood all day.” Bucky asks Steve as they move to man the pie throwing booth.

“It’s nothing.”

“Punk I’ve known you all of my life and I know when you’re upset about something. Look at you pouting, you never pout.”

“Fine, I wanted to spend some time with Y/N. It’s the main reason I even volunteered and now I have to stand here and watch everyone else flirt with her.”

It was true, most of the football team was in on the plan. Currently it was Thor paired with you at the bake sale stall. From his body language alone Steve knew he was coming onto you. As discreetly as he could, Bucky texted the group chat, letting everyone know the plan was working and telling Thor to ease up a bit. Sam had chimed in and informed the group that you had been really disappointed to not be able to spend time with Steve.

As the day went on Steve found it more difficult to separate from what he was doing to go talk to you even for just a moment. He was really tired of watching guys trying to kiss your lips once they paid. He finally got up and decided to take matters into his own hands.

“Rogers, where are you going?” Nat asked.

“Taking a break.”

He didn’t even look back, if he had he would have seen everyone get together to watch the situation unfold. They were all giddy with anticipation as Steve got closer to the booth.

***

Your eyes lit up the moment you saw him standing behind your current customer. Unfortunately he was being a dick.

“Oh come on, sweetheart. It’s just a kiss on the lips. I’ll even give you $5 if you let me use my tongue.”

“I said no, the rules are simple, if you can’t follow them you can leave.”

“You don’t have to be such a bit-“

“I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you, John.” Steve had pulled him away from you and was glaring daggers at him. “I will kick your ass.”

John had no choice but to run away before anything serious could happen.

“Thank you .”

“No problem, I’ve never liked that guy.”

“You and half of the school.” You say before smiling. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“I think you were next in line.”

Steve looks around and smiles. “I think I was.” He pulls out a fifty dollar bill and places it on the counter separating you two.

“Oh, it’s going to be a minute, I don’t have enough to make change for a $50.”

“Don’t worry, I plan to use all of it.” He smiles and rests his arms on the counter, one hand comes up and he points at his cheek.

You giggle before you kiss the spot he pointed to and then do it again and again and again. Steve’s a blushing mess and you can’t stop grinning.

“How many was that?” Steve asks after a few minutes.

“I don’t know like ten?”

“Well unfortunately I have to get back to my station but how about you give me the other forty after dinner?”

You bit down on your bottom lip to try and stop the huge smile that wanted to make its way onto your face.

“I think I can manage that.”

“Great, I'll see you tonight at 8?”

“Yeah. That’s perfect.”

“I’ll pick you up.” Steve straightens himself up and walks backwards still grinning at you.

And just as he had said he was at your door at 8 that night. He was a proper gentleman the whole night so it came as no surprise that you gave him more than the kisses you owed him.

Part 2

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#steve rogers one shot #college!steve Rogers x reader #steve rogers au #football player!Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x reader #college au

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deputyrook · 11 months

Text

Impressions- 2/? Mark Hoffman x Psychic!Reader

(Repost after I accidentally deleted my tumblr 😭)

PART 1.

You're a reluctant psychic. He's a detective. And a serial killer.

(Can I make it any more obvious?)

Word count: 3498

WARNINGS: Gaslightling, corruption, stockholm syndrome, some drug use (painkillers), blackmail, power imbalance, abusive dynamics, overt threatening, general Saw-levels of horror.

this fic is kind of goofy, because I'm writing it for fun and not taking it super seriously! enjoy 💕

“Mark didn’t hit on you, did he?” Kerry asks over the phone, a note of disgust in her voice, “If he did, I’ll kick his ass. Though… you didn't exactly look uncomfortable when you fell into his arms yesterday. Am I wrong?”

Sometimes, you wondered how Kerry could be so oblivious.

You swallow a handful of painkillers before you answer her, washing them down with a swig of stale soda that’s been sitting out on your counter.

“He's, what, ten years older than us?” You ask, setting down the can and playing with the cord of your telephone.

“That’s not an answer,” Kerry teases, “And he’s early forties, I think. Hey, I won’t stop you. I'll sure as hell judge you, but I won't stop you.”

The events of the prior evening feel surreal now, in the morning light of the next day. Detective Mark Hoffman hasn’t contacted you, and if you didn’t have his phone number saved in your cell, you would have thought the entire car ride had been a bad dream.

You can’t help but second guess yourself now- had he ever actually admitted to being an accomplice? What if he was just a defensive asshole, and you’d misinterpreted everything again? The doubts creep in, now that your visions have been chased away, back into hiding in the recesses of your mind.

“Not interested,” you mutter. “I wasn’t feeling great last night, you know that. I barely remember getting home.”

Kerry’s tone sobers at that, and you hear her sigh. “Yeah. Sorry about that. I know you don’t like doing that, but we were completely out of leads.”

“And you still are,” you note, “I didn’t dream of anything useful last night, by the way. Total void.” If you’re lucky, you’ll never have another vision about the Jigsaw murders, though you suspect you’ve been plunged headfirst into the thick of it.

The painkillers will keep the flashes at bay, at least for now. The rest will come to you, jumbled and nonsensical, when it’s least convenient.

“Not entirely. But how are you feeling?” Kerry asks. She’s never been the best at heart-to-hearts, or at fielding your psychic nonsense, but you can hear the genuine concern in her voice for you. You wish you could tell her- the killer she hunts is right there, in the office across the hall, she could be in danger- but with the potential risk to both her and you, it’s just not worth it.

Not unless you manage to get your hands on some hard evidence of Hoffman’s involvement.

Years of dealing with a surrealist-nightmare-kaleidoscope for a brain had forced you to become patient. You could bide your time and wait carefully until an opportunity to steal some actual proof arose. Until then, you just had to keep breathing.

“Helloooo? Are you there?” Kerry’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry Ally. You know how I get. I called in sick today, but I’m alright. I promise. Nothing some rest and relaxation can’t fix,” you try to smile, but you can’t hide the exhaustion in your voice.

“Good,” she says, resolute, “I won’t ask you to come in again. Not unless something else comes to you. But I won’t believe he’s dead. Not yet.” It doesn’t take psychic abilities to know she’s talking about Eric Matthews, nor to feel the regret she carries with her, punctuating her words.

“And you shouldn’t. You know my hit rate on alive-versus-dead isn’t always the best.” Kerry hums in consideration at your words, and after you both say your goodbyes to one another, you hang up the receiver of the phone.

Once again, you’re left in the silence of your lonely apartment- save for your cat, who brushes up against your leg with a purr. He reminds you so easily that it’s not just your life on the line, here. Would Jigsaw ever try to test a cat...? Reaching down to scratch behind his ears, you try to consider your next steps carefully.

But all it does is make your head hurt. You pluck an ice pack from your freezer and lay down on your sofa, holding it to your head with a soft groan.

You must fall back asleep at some point, because you’re woken up from a dreamless sleep by the ringing of your phone. You check your home phone, and then, realizing it’s not the culprit, rifle through your bag for your cell.

“Hello?” You mumble into the phone as you flip it open, blinking awake.

“What, were you asleep? It’s the middle of the day,” Hoffman says.

“I called in sick. Got in pretty late last night, and I didn’t sleep the best,” You deadpan. Without being right next to him, it’s easier to keep your cool and not get flustered.

“We should talk. Let’s get dinner,” he says, “Six-o-clock. You know Eve’s Diner? On Newhaven street- with the neon sign?”

Your stomach drops. It didn’t seem like he was just asking you out politely. When was the last time you got dinner with a man, anyway? His tone is so casual that it makes you want to squirm.

“Yeah, I know the place. It's pretty close by, right?” At least in public, he wouldn’t be able to do anything overtly threatening to you. It didn’t seem like there was any use in arguing with him, or telling him you weren’t feeling up to it. He knows your address, and he apparently knows Jigsaw. That's enough to secure your compliance.

“Good. I’ll see you there, then.” And he hangs up the phone.

Your head throbs, but it’s lessened in severity since the morning. You consider taking another batch of painkillers, but decide against it. If you’re meeting Hoffman for dinner, it might be better to stay sharp.

—

The sight of Mark Hoffman, sitting in a diner booth, would be almost comical if it wasn’t so nerve-wracking. He’s stirring some sugar into his coffee, hunched against the wall, his hair smoothed back neatly and his police badge hanging around his neck. He looks tired, you think, but otherwise like a normal, upstanding member of society- if not one slightly too large and too dour for the diner table he’s seated at.

“Hi,” you say, sliding into the booth across from him.

He nods toward you in recognition, before leaning back in the seat. Mark looks at you, up and down, in silent surveyance. You stare back, studying him in return. Both of you size each other up, like the other is the dangerous one.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” He says, “And after some more thought, I’m not convinced. For all I know, maybe you’re workin’ with John Kramer. That seems more likely than you being psychic.”

Ah. You’ve gotten this reaction before. When someone, with time and consideration, doubles back to doubt your abilities. You couldn’t exactly blame him for that. Particularly for skeptics, it’s a hard pill to swallow that you have access to senses that they don’t.

Being accused of being a serial killer was new territory, however.

“I’m not working with Jigsaw,” you sputter, keeping your voice quiet. The diner isn’t too busy, and you’re seated in a corner away from other patrons, but it’s still public enough that you want to be careful. “Shouldn’t you know I’m not?”

He squints at you, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re lying or not.

“You tell me. You said there were four. Jigsaw, Amanda, myself- according to you- and so who’s the fourth? If it’s not you.” He sounds impatient. You blink at him, trying to process where he’s coming from. And then, it hits you. He doesn’t know.

For a second, you consider trying to play it off like you are the fourth apprentice. Maybe then, he’d trust you more directly with information that you could use against him. But then, you re-evaluate. Lying to a mass murderer was probably a bad idea. Lying to a cop was arguably worse.

“Well, it’s not me. But yeah, there’s at leastfour involved that I picked up on. Four main...signatures,” You pause, before continuing. “So that’s why you want me to tell you about what I sense. Even you don’t know what he’s planning, or everyone who’s involved.”

“I’ve been on this case since the beginning. Of course I wanna know. Especially since you’re out here accusing me,” He remarks, taking a sip of his coffee before continuing, “Kerry didn’t act any different toward me this morning. Good. Keeping your theories to yourself was smart.”

“Yes, lest you start actually convincing me you’re not Jigsaw, let me not forget how you threatened me last night,” You mumble, crossing your arms in front of your chest protectively.

“You pouting about it?” He asks, teasing, a smirk just barely edging onto his face, “C’mon. Show me your trick. How do you do it?” He beckons you closer, and you find yourself leaning in across the table. Like you’re sharing a secret with him.

“It’s not like I’m getting visions of the future, per se,” You try to explain, “It’s more like... hyper intuition. I get emotions, mostly. It’s an extreme version of empathy. Sometimes I get flashes of imagery from the past, present, and future, but it’s usually mixed up so I can’t tell which is which. Mainly, I just trust my gut. Which isn’t often wrong- but my interpretation of what I’m seeing can be off. Has been.”

“Hyper-intuition, huh?” He says, mulling it over, “Tell me something else about me, then. Prove it.”

You swallow uncomfortably. “I uh, need to be touching you.”

Mark raises his eyebrows at you. Before he can say anything mocking, the waitress comes by, filling both of your coffee cups. She takes your orders quickly, as though picking up on the vibe that you both want to be left alone. When she leaves, Mark spreads his hands in a gesture as if to say, do your thing, then.

Gently, you reach out and take his hands in yours. Rough, calloused, and strong. You try not to think about it as you close your eyes, and allow the gate to open for the second time in two days.

The chattering in the diner fades away into the background as your intuition takes hold, clouding out your other five senses like the moon passing over the sun in a total eclipse. First, there’s just darkness. Even the sensation of Mark’s skin against yours fading to a dull buzz. Then, sensations begin to spawn, bubbling up from somewhere else.

From the man seated across from you, you think.

“Strawberries,” you murmur, the taste of fresh, wild berries being the first thing that comes to you, sweet and tart, “I think they were picked wild, by mindful fingers. Yours are older, but never as gentle. Her small hands were always more careful than yours, never crushing the berries like you did.”

It’s a kind, well-loved memory -you assume- the impression coming in easy and unambiguous. The next is more muddled.

“Ah- pain. There’s noise, it’s discordant and loud,” You wince, squeezing Mark’s hands. You tilt your head, trying to make out the source, but all you get is scraps of yelling, fighting, shivering hands, the smell of rain.

It melts then, into that feeling again. The deep, unending well of misery. Loss, in its purest form. Utter loneliness, vast like an unending ocean.

“It’s like the sun went out,” you whisper, voice cracking. Your heart is breaking. The depth of your pain is nearly unbearable, and it makes you want to pull back and disconnect. “It’s like all the light’s been snuffed from this world. Alone.”

“Yeah,” Mark’s voice confirms, calm, quiet and sombre, “You know why that is, don’t you?”

You frown, hands trembling. The smell of blood rises, pungent and sickening. Blood, blood, so much blood. It smells so strong that you can taste it. Then something else- formaldehyde. The words leave your mouth before you can register what they mean.

“He took her from me,” You murmur hoarsely, a pure conduit for the feeling. Dimly, you’re aware of hands squeezing yours back, too tight.

Then, the rage. The despair. An energy trapped, like a feral animal in an enclosure. Desperate to make things right again, to make the world right, with no way to do it that makes sense.

Trapped, trapped, trapped. Starving. Alone again.

You’re lost in the feeling before Mark’s voice pulls you back.

“He deserved what he got,” he says, and you’re redirected. The sun is still gone, the world is still cold. Justice is a fleeting concept, a principle that isn’t achieved until you make it happen.

The world is so cold without the sun, but he died screaming for taking her. That’s justice enough.

And then, a finality- a sense of purpose.

"They all deserve it," you say.

You open your eyes, and let go of his hands. Hoffman’s expression is hard to read as you settle back in the booth. The despair still lingers over you, like a chill that’s seeped into your bones.

“That your thought, or mine?” He asks finally. “You must have felt a lot of it over the years. Other people’s pain.”

“Sure,” you reply, “Everyone’s got it. Life isn’t fair.”

“Not unless you make it fair,” Mark counters, “You can’t tell me he didn’t deserve to die like that for what he did.”

“Can you just tell me?” You ask quietly, “So I can get the full picture, no missing pieces of the puzzle. The loss...was your sister? He killed her?”

Mark thinks about it for a second. He looks like he’s going to refuse you, not responding for so long that you wonder if he’s deliberately ignoring you.

Your food arrives before he answers, the waitress bringing your plates and setting them down in front of you both. Mark's ordered a cheeseburger and fries, the all-American classic diner food; you a club sandwich, though your appetite has evaporated since you've arrived here. And after yesterday, it was barely present to begin with.

Then finally, after you both have started to eat, he speaks.

“My sister’s ex-boyfriend murdered her. Seth Baxter. A sick, abusive fuck. He was convicted, got life in jail. Took a couple of years, but he finally went away for it. Well, he filed an appeal. His new lawyer said that the jury was tainted by the evidence of his history of domestic assaults on women, that the evidence was improperly admitted and ‘prejudicial’ to his case. After five years, the case was successfully appealed... and he went free,” A feeling of disgust and rage twists in you, and you can’t tell whether it’s Hoffman’s or yours.

“So you...”

“Jigsaw killed him,” Mark answers, “Cut him in half. He was already dating someone new when he was picked up. Tell me that's not fair.”

The words hang in the air, and you take them in. You’re starting to learn to read Mark’s face better, you think, because you can detect just a hint of smugness in his expression. You try to determine how you feel about this, but your feelings are still all tangled up in Hoffman’s. Extricating them is difficult.

“So he deserved it,” You say finally, “Jigsaw’s not just a vigilante. He kidnaps people who are- who are addicted to drugs, or who only hurt themselves, and he makes them play in these sick games. It's not right,” You can’t believe you’re arguing the philosophy of Jigsaw with one of the murderers himself. It seems unbelievable.

Mark actually rolls his eyes at you.

“It’s either people who deserve it, or people who don’t deserve their lives to begin with,” He murmurs, “think about it.”

Then you remember the feeling you’d gotten before, at the police station. The deep, dark depths of satisfaction. A kind of beast in the heart, ugly and hungry and grinning. The thought that you might have inadvertently given it some purchase in your own mind freaks you the hell out.

“Easy for you to say,” you whisper, the fear keeping your voice barely audible, “You like watching people hurt.”

Mark doesn’t deny it- maybe he sees no use in doing so, when you already know better. He looks at you coldly, calculating.

“Does it matter?” He says, “Keep your word, and you won’t be on the receiving end.”

You take a sip of your water nervously, looking around the diner. Though still not exceptionally busy, you’ve both nearly finished your food (well, Mark has, you've picked away at yours), and more people are trickling in the door. If you continue to talk here, it may become more difficult to avoid being overheard.

Wouldn’t that be a good thing, for you?

“Let’s finish up,” Mark says, as though he’s been reading your mind, “We can meet up again later. I'm going to ask you more about this mystery fourth person. So keep your eyes open," he pauses, and huffs. "Or closed, I guess."

"And Kerry will be fine?" You ask, insistently, "She's a good person, Hoffman."

"Is she?" He challenges, "she wasn't exactly discreet with Matthews. And she knew he was dirty. As far as I can tell, you're her only friend."

"Oh, and you didn't know?" You snap back, defensive, "If she deserves to be tested, we all do."

Mark stands, putting on his coat. "Yeah. Or most, at least." He replies in agreement.

"Come on," he adds, his hand on the small of your back again. You can't tell if it's meant to be possessive, threatening, or whether he's done it without even thinking about it. Perhaps surprisingly, it doesn't feel as uncomfortable this time around. "I'll walk you home. Wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

A worm has been planted in your mind, and it feeds.

Over the next week, you feel more torn than you think you've ever felt in your life. Mark Hoffman's words bore into your mind, repeating over and over, with the echos of his pain piercing through you in random intervals. You flit between feeling angry at the situation you're in, and wanting to go to Kerry and lay it all out on the table, to a strange feeling of camaraderie with Mark Hoffman.

It's a downside you've always had to reading someone, and inviting them in- you feel connected with them, permanently. Once you see through their eyes, and feel what they feel, it's hard for you to just pull away again. A piece of them remains.

It was like you were being tested yourself. By connecting with the worst possible person, you were pushing yourself- how strained could the connection be, how adverse to your own interest, while you still feel like you're on the same side?

You lie awake at night, replaying your conversation with Mark in your mind. Thinking of all the hurt you'd ever felt, yours and everyone's, echoing forever.

Needless to say- you weren't doing great. And the fact that you weren't sleeping well didn't help.

Dreams came frequently after that shared dinner with Mark Hoffman. You dreamt alternately of horrible panic, the feeling of being trapped, and physical pain that makes you wake up sobbing. So many images form in your mind that it's hard to keep track- scalpels, keys, case files, teeth, distorted statues, the smell of antiseptic.

You text it all to Mark as it comes to you. Anyone looking at your text log would think you were both insane.

But still, you tell him your dreams, and he listens. You theorize about the fourth person together, like you're trying to solve the case. You trade tidbits, make suggestions, and rule out others.

You kind of... like texting him.

---

[2:33AM - Outgoing] Just woke up with the image of a blonde woman in my head. I don't know who she is.

[2:37AM - Incoming] could be jill tuck. ex-wife.

[2:39AM - Incoming] Photo Message

[2:42AM - Outgoing] Nope, sorry. Not her.

[2:45AM - Incoming] i thought maybe she was the 4th

[2:47AM - Outgoing] Blonde woman didn't feel like the 4th. Looked like a scientist of some kind? Idk. Wearing a white lab coat.

[2:49AM - Outgoing] I also got a red room with a bunch of pictures. Like Polaroids maybe? Hung up I think. Not sure if it was connected to the blonde woman.

[2:50AM - Incoming] that ones a red herring. already happened

[2:52AM - Outgoing] Ugh

[2:56AM - Outgoing] How long is this going to last?

[2:57AM - Incoming] what

[2:59AM - Outgoing] You keeping me as your pet psychic

[3:00AM - Incoming] you think i'm planning to stop?

[3:01AM - Incoming] you'd better get used to me.

[3:02AM - Incoming] remember. delete these.

[3:04AM - Outgoing] Yeah, yeah. Do you ever sleep?

[3:05AM - Incoming] when i'm not being woken up by txts

[3:08AM - Incoming] lets meet this weekend

[3:08AM - Incoming] I want to show you something

(author's note: the true dynamic is emerging! and yes, I had to go on a little sidebar on how seth baxter's sentence could have actually been reversed. i'm a prosecutor, I can't help myself.)

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