#me in my fully locked and secured house: but what if someone breaks in and kills me

[brad-bakshi-loves-bugs]

people say the home is where the heart is. brad knows it's bullshit, though.

home is where you feel safe.

and the only place brad can feel truly safe is his car. whether it's his old beat up silver 2006 toyota corolla or his shiny new white 2020 audi rs 3, he spends more time in his car than his apartment.

well, when he's not sick, at least.

brad bought his corolla new back in 2006. it was his first car, and he still affectionately refers to it as "ol reliable" even though it's pushing 410k miles. the car's nearly undrivable now - there's something wrong with the transmission and the car rattles suspiciously when he drives faster than 60mph in it, but he keeps it anyway because it's the only non-living thing he's ever been attached to. that old car got him away from his father and zack, after all. he saved for years to buy it.

because the thing is - cars are safe. which is ironic, because people die in their cars far more than they die in their homes. but they aren't murdered in their cars. well, not frequently, at least. brad knows that zack knows his address. no matter how often brad moves, zack has always known his new address in a matter of weeks. brad's given up on constantly uprooting his life to hide from the inevitable.

but there isn't a paper trail to follow when brad is in his car. he can drive as long and as far as he wants, and no one can follow him or stop him. that was part of his reason for getting his current car - he knows zack can't afford a faster car than he has, so theres zero chance of zack stalking and hurting him when he's driving. not to mention the fact that brad doesnt have any neighbors when he's driving around, so he can blast his music as loud as he wants and scream when he's pissed off and no one will ever hear or know. it's a great release.

brad isnt a car guy. he's only owned two cars throughout his entire life. but he would rather die than be carless. thats another reason he kept his corolla when he got his audi - one day, his audi may be in need of repair or something that requires it to be taken into a shop, and brad doesnt feel comfortable without an escape plan. better safe than sorry, after all.

[dumbdomb]

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allowing me to stay over in your guest room which has, unbeknownst to me, been created into a fully inescapable- yet seemingly safe and normal bedroom. it's true purpose has always been to be the dungeon you'd keep me in so you could prove your loyal devotion to me.

the first night you focus on making sure i'm comfortable and at ease. hidden cameras detail my sleeping schedule and you're prepared for the next phase. we spend some time together during the second day, but mostly you're preparing for something special that evening... at night, once i've fallen asleep, you begin.

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dimly lit monitors power on to display obscenely pornographic content, hidden speakers play binaural and hypnotic audio, and soon i am surrounded by a barrage of subliminal ideas designed to coerce me into becoming more deviant. the moment i stir awake, everything is shut off automatically. i've no idea what is going on, but my head feels fuzzy.

during the day, i seem a bit out of it, but otherwise don't notice anything unusual. like a vacation, i finally begin to relax after a few days. on the fifth night, you continue this nightly programming and increase the volume and lighting just so. when i wake, i catch a glimpse of my surroundings that immediately fall silent and i question whether i saw anything.

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in the morning i notice some of the clothes i don't wear often have been replaced with similar, yet more revealing styles. i angrily question you about going through my belongings and you act so unaware, surprised, and frightened that someone may have broken into your house that i actually believe you. i help you get new locks and install security cameras to watch over all entrances and windows. i ask you to stay in the room with me that night, and you make a bed on the floor next to mine. nothing more happens, a few uneventful days pass...

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i suggest you move back to your own room, feeling silly for being scared, you only continue to build my trust in you by comforting me and making me feel safe. everything will change soon enough, bc while i visit a friend during the day, your plans to move into the third phase begin.

all my clothes are replaced with very revealing styles, except for my usual pajamas that i lay out each day. i don't see you when i get back, but figure you're out or taking a nap. i don't know you've changed anything yet, keeping to my new routines in your home. by the time we usually have dinner together, you join me a bit later than usual. and when i retire to bed, it's all so mundane.

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while i sleep, you turn on the programs. they increase as i squirm in bed, getting louder and more visible. this time, when i wake up, everything stays on as i look around startled and confused. i try to use the remote to turn off the tv, but nothing i do works. i decide to leave the room, scared to stay inside with all the overwhelming perversion around me. when i try to open the door, it's locked. the windows appear to be locked from the outside... i yell out for help, not wanting to believe the situation i'm in, and the obscene volume increases. the more i yell, the louder it gets, until my screams are nearly indistinguishable from the loud moans and cries of pain and pleasure. i go back to bed and cover my head, trying to make it all stop and i somehow manage to fall asleep again.

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in the morning, i wake up like normal. as if it were all just a horribly bad dream. i go take a shower and when i look for something to wear, all my clothes are gone. i'm in a towel, my used pajamas already added to the laundry bin in the other room, and all the clothes i have to wear are not mine. i go to leave the room and the door is locked, just like in my dream. i hear you yell out that breakfast will be ready soon, and i should hurry up so it doesn't get cold. how can you be so normal when something strange is going on here? i find the most "comfortable" outfit i can to make do, and after getting dressed the door is unlocked, like i was never locked in to begin with... i felt so confused and wanted to tell you, but i also felt overcome with shame. was it just my mind playing tricks on me?!? ♡

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[killerskillercaptain]

As if

This work is based on this request by @asamilee19

Pairing : Levi Ackerman x Reader

Genre : Fluff/Angst

Synopsis : You broke your wrist and can't take part in training, Hange convinces Levi that kissing your wrist could accelerate the healing, you give it a try.

Warning: /

wc : 1 595

He grumbled under his breath, showing teeth like an angry canine, you on the other hand were low key enjoying the situation.

After a poorly managed mission, you broke your wrist, it could take weeks to heal. A wrist injury meant you didn't have the right to take part in training and missions since you couldn't do anything, let alone swing blades around gigantic human eating monsters.

It was late in the afternoon, heavy and warm rays of light pierced through the windows in Hange's Lab, a calming noise coming from an oil lamp filled the room, the lamp was standing dangerously on a pile of chemistry books.

You liked being in here, it was calm and Moblit would come check on you from time to time, plus Hange was nice to you while you were injured, not like Levi who didn't give you a break and kept on talking about how reckless you were on the filed, right now you were all here, you, Hange, Moblit and Levi who made no effort to hide his irritability concerning your injury again. He has been grumbling, cussing and overtly showing his disappointment with you.

Hange knowing your deep affection towards Levi (maybe more than just affection) decided to help you irritate him back since he wasn't showing any compassion towards you.

"She is injured for God's sake, have some pity !"

"Tsk! If she wasn't always so reckless, she wouldn't be injured in the first place"

Hange let out a defeated sigh, before a small grin, full of malice tugged at her lips, she made a bee line to where you were sitting and whispered something in your ear, you both laughed before she grabbed Moblit by the collar and dragged him out of the room.

"Come my faithful Mobilit ! Let her rest ! Oh and Levi, keep her company while we're out, we won't be gone for too long !"

Her laugh still echoed in the empty hallway after she leaved you and the captain alone.

If Levi had shown clear signs of irritability, right now he was just fuming, his hand buried in his dark locks, he looked even angrier at the situation, he hated to have an injured soldier, and he hated taking care of one, especially if it's you, he couldn't explain why, but having you injured, and non operational exasperated him to no end, when your life was in danger it always bothered him more than it should, and he didn't want to aknowledge the reason behind it.

You made yourself comfortable on the old leathery couch in Hange's lab, well, as comfortable as you could since it was a rather old and shredded couch that Hange managed to get here, you smiled shyly, looking at the captain's back.

Your smile soon faded away and you sighed, Hange was making jokes and treating the situation lightly, but it was a serious injury and it was actually nothing to joke about, you weren't a citizen who lived in a secure house inside the walls, you were in a rather dangerous area and as a soldier, you could be facing danger at any moment and with this broken wrist, you wouldn't be able to even defend yourself, you'd need someone to assist you, and this made you feel like a heavy uncomfortable luggage that other soldiers would have to cary around if danger awakened, you wouldn't be able to lift any of your equipment, use the gear properly or handle a blade efficiently, you weren't so great right now.

Levi turned your way, and for a second, his gaze sustained your shy look for a little too long causing your cheeks to warm up.

You remembered what Hanged whispered to you and decided to give it a try, knowing fully that Levi wouldn't fall for it.

You stared at his back forever before uttering those words and tripping on every single syllable because you were understandably nervous as hell.

"Captain, Hange told me that new studies suggests that-" You paused a little before getting bold again.

"-that human saliva can actually accelerate the healing of fractured bones."

There you go, you said it. A blatant lie, a lie as big as a titan, and a stupid one on top of that ! And you couldn't believe you found the audacity and bravery to say them, and to none other than captain Levi!

Levi turned around and stared at you with an emotionless face :

"Good then hurry up and lick your wrists so you can return to being useful again"

What ? He went for that ? You thought! Or was he trying to humiliate you, it would be his style, but you now that you were deep in this mess, you decided not to back down, just not yet.

"It doesn't work if it's my own saliva, it has to be someone else's, the antibodies have to be different." You said with a confidence that surprised you, trying your hardest to stifle the smile that was threatening to make its way to your face.

Thank god you payed attention in those science classes that Hange taught you when you were a cadet.

"You do know about antibodies right captain ?"

You said it with a subtle tone of condescension that Levi didn't miss, as you were well aware of his underground and uneducated upbringing, you thought this would strike a nerve in him, yes you were indulging yourself right now but you were playing on a dangerous field, this could easily be considered as disrespect towards authority, but you were already gone too far at this point, and if you were honest to yourself, the thrill of upsetting Levi by making him feel non educated was thrilling, and you were kind of getting your revenge on him for not hiding his disappointment and not treating you more nicely even though you had broken bones.

"Of course i do know about them" He responded to your question, and stood still.

Both of you just looked at each other for a while, both of you knowing what had to happen next but neither of you bold enough to either say or do something.

Even though you were using it as an opportunity for revenge, the situation was a bit amusing to you, you even shifted on the couch to make yourself even more comfortable.

Levi started walking your way and your eyes followed his footstep until he plopped lazily by your side.

"Tsk! Hange sure is disgusting, how can someone keep such a filthy piece of furniture in their room".

You laughed a little at his comment, then looked at your broken wrist, it was fun teasing Levi a little but of course he wasn't going to kiss your wrists like Hange suggested for you to try.

Hange knew of your fondness for the captain but she also knew that you were too shy to even try to convey your feelings to him, you guessed she was trying to encourage you in her own funny twisted way, you sighed heavily, letting your broken hand flop next to you on the old leathery couch, feeling each ripple of the old fabric under your skin.

Soon the texture of leather was replaced by another feeling, warmer. It was the texture of another person's hand, calloused and hardened by years and years of training, Levi had his palm on your wrist and brought it up to his face.

You jolted, almost out of the couch.

What the hell is happening ? He's actually going for it ?

You could feel your legs tremble a little, you had never been this close physically to him, he looked so focused on your wrist, studying the skin, before bringing it slowly and with outmost precaution to his lips, he froze in this position for a long time, lips only ever hovering over the skin while your soul was threatening to leave your body at any given time. As much as you wanted to run away and hide from embarrasement, you also wanted to stay and see what was happening next, and quiet frankly, you didn't think you could move any muscle right now.

"When did you last wash your hands ?"

He asked without looking at your eyes.

"Thirty minutes ago"

"That will do"

He brought up your wrist to his face, lips slightly puckered which made you blush violently, he looked like he was hesitating, his lips floating over your skin, you couldn't take off your eyes off of his figure, arched on your hand like a prince charming ready to do an old fashioned hand kiss to some sophisticated lady, you closed your eyes and soon felt a small confidant kiss on your wrist.

He tilted up his face, slightly warmed up as he never touched a woman in such a manner before, and he studied your complexion, slowly opening your eyes you briefly looked at him through your lashes before turning your face almost at a 360 degree, hiding half your face with your other hand.

You looked through the window across the room to escape his caging gaze, he was still holding your hand, the harshness of his skin rubbing against the tenderness of yours, he added another one on the back of your hand before putting it down-

"LEVII !! WE'RE BACK !!"

Levi hopped of the ouch as soon as Hange's voice erupted in the room, followed by Moblit's friendly face.

"Sorry for taking so long, so Levi did you take care of her as i asked you too ?"

Levi didn't respond and said he was going outside and intentionally avoided looking at you since Hange made her entrance in the lab, you were using all your energy to process what just happened and stay focused with Hange and Moblit at the same time.

When you left Hange and Moblit, you went outside and walked past the barracks where you found Levi taking care of some cadets who were fooling around, as always, they were so scared of him that it wasn't long before they headed back to their dorms. Even though he didn't turn to see you, Levi heard your steps and knew you were standing behind him.

"Captain ?"

"Hm ?"

"Thank you for taking care of me, but can i ask you a question ?"

He listened without moving an inch.

"How come you accepted to kiss my wrist ? I didn't think you would do it"

This time, he turned his head slightly, enough to look at you in the eye.

"Because i didn't mind it."

[inkandpen22]

The Princess and The Pogue (pt. 5)

Pairing: JJ x Female!Reader / Topper x Female!Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: swearing, violence, mild smut

Part Summary: You and Topper make amends. You two attend the end of the summer bonfire at the Boneyard. When JJ sees you guys together, things take a turn for the worst. 

Masterlist

Somehow, after hours of crying, you finally fell asleep on your bed. You're not quite sure when it happened. Your covers tucked nicely under you, wet from your tears. When you first got home, you immediately snuck up to your room, far from your parents. You ripped off your Labor Day dress, having already hated it, but you also took your aggression out on it. You changed in one of Topper's T-shirts that you stole sometime last summer... when you were hooking up. You had never been so close. Morning, noon, and night you were together. You were practically dating but without the titles. Actually, it was far deeper than that. You spent almost every hour together, you co-existing. You were acting married even though you were only teenagers. You guys just loved each other that much. If someone had told you then that a year from now you two wouldn't be talking, you would've thought they were crazy. 

“Y/N!" You hear Topper in your dreams.  "Y/N!" He repeats, then you process it's real. 

"What the-" You rise from your laid position and spot the boy climbing in from your window in the dark. "Topper?" 

"Hey! Sorry to scare you," he apologizes as he rises to his feet from a crawling position on your floor. 

"Did you climb through the window?" You question, this wouldn't be the first time, but it nevertheless is mind-boggling to you how he can climb up the side of your house. 

"Yeah, can you tell your mom to not have the gardeners cut the vines so short?" He complains with a chuckle, brushing down his Patagonia shirt. 

"What are you doing here?" You yawn. Considering what he said to you just hours before, you can't help but wonder why the fuck he's here. 

"I... I need to apologize," he stammers, taking a seat on the edge of your bed just by your legs. "Y/N, I'm so sorry! I was such a jerk to you earlier. I shouldn't have-" 

Before he can even finish, you leap at him, pulling him into a pleading hug. "Jesus, I'm so happy you're here," you whisper against his shoulder. 

Topper instantly wraps his arms around you, engulfing you. He releases a deep breath, not having realized until this moment that he couldn't breathe the entire time you weren't talking. "I've missed you!" He pulls back and brushes his hand across your cheek, bringing your hair back. "I missed you the moment you left!" He wears a smile of relief as his eyes glisten with tears threatening to fall. 

"Never let me go again," you mutter, almost as a beg. 

"I could never. I didn't," Topper explains in a rushed whisper, gripping your waist. "As soon as you left I was a mess, ask the boys! They had to talk me off a cliff. I came by earlier but your parents said you were still at Kiara's... which I'm guessing you were with JJ and the other Pogues..." His face falters and he avoids your gaze at the mention of JJ. 

You bring your hand up and tuck your fingers under his chin, guiding him to look at you. His eyes meet you with defeat and it nearly breaks your heart. "JJ drove me back to John B's, but I had Sarah drive me home almost as soon as we got there." 

"So you and JJ..." He can't bring himself to ask. 

"We..." Your brows scrunch together as you realize you never really discussed it. "You know what, I didn't even know." Enough about JJ, you're just happy that Topper is here! You felt so empty all day, in a constant state of panic. Now, you can exist again. "I'm just relieved you're here, Top. I've felt sick to my stomach all day," you release a breathless laugh of relief. 

"No, yeah you're right, no one else matters," he shakes his head, reaching for your hand on his cheek and taking it in his hands. "As long as we're good then everything else will be okay." He lifts your hand to his lips and gives them a needy kiss. 

"Stay with me?" You ask softly as he does. 

You see him swallow hard, pausing with your hand his lips. His eyes flicker up to yours with a mixture of surprise and admiration. "I was hoping you'd ask." A faint grin appearing on the edge of his lips. 

You and Topper get ready for bed as you used to every night when he snuck into your room a lot more. You've shared a bed since breaking off your... arrangement. There was the ski trip and Bermuda, but on random nights when he couldn't sleep or missed you, Topper would find himself in your bed. You pull back your blankets, knowing to get on the side closest to the window, away from the door. Topper didn't need to think twice to move to the opposite side because ever in the case of an emergency, he's the closest to the door. He's always thinking of how to keep you safe and satisfied. As you climb in, Topper begins to remove his t-shirt and shorts. You can't help but watch as his clothes become a pile on his side. It's months since you two have done anything, but that doesn't mean you haven't thought about it. There have been opportunities, but you always try to be responsible and remember why you stopped. Topper doesn't notice your staring and wondering what it would feel like to run your fingers down his chest. He climbs in next to you and immediately guides you into his side. Instantly, you feel secure and wanted, which is all anyone ever needs. He brushes his fingertips up and down your spine gently while you rest your cheek against his bare chest. It's not a new feeling to you, but it certainly never gets old. 

"There's a bonfire tomorrow at the Boneyard, wanna go together?" The boy asks, glancing down at you. 

"As long as Rafe doesn't go wild as he did," you snicker, but you mean what you say. 

"Don't worry about him, we had a nice long chat once he sobered up this afternoon," he insinuates and you wish you would've seen Topper go off on him. Then, you comprehend that it might've only happened because Topper was mad at you and Rafe was getting the side effects. 

"He doesn't deserve you, Top." You mutter, lifting your head off his chest to place a quick kiss on his chest. 

"That's how I feel about myself with you," he confesses as he peers down at you. "You've always been there for me. When Sarah cheated, you were right there and pulled me through it. The way I spoke to you this morning. I-" 

"No, no, don't say that," you shake your hand repeatedly as you cup his cheek as you did before. He leans into your touch and you find yourself wishing to be closer to him, as though that's even possible. "I love you, Top. You're my best friend. I'll always be there for you. You've helped me in more ways than you could ever realize." 

"I love you too, Y/N," he smiles, leaning down and placing a kiss on your forehead. "So much..." he whispers against your skin. 

His eyes flicker down to your neck and you remember last night in the kitchen. You brush your hand across Topper's cheek, pulling his focus back to you. His eyes and features falter at the evidence of JJ on you. 

"I'm here with you! Okay? It's you and me," you try to emphasize. 

He nods slowly, still feeling an ache in his chest, but relieved to have you in his arms. You're it for Topper. He would do anything for you, drop anyone for you, nothing is too much. You alone are what drives him and are the reason he wakes up in the morning. He would never admit it aloud out of guilt, but when he was with Sarah, he always compared her to you. He doesn't fully know why he dated her, maybe because he felt you slipping away when you realized that you no longer wanted to hook up. He couldn't lose you so he tried to replace you, but he quickly realized that was impossible. No one could be you. 

_____________________________________

Topper woke up before you and let you sleep, pondering having you in his arms. Your legs entangled in his, your arm across his chest along with your cheek. In the light, he finally notices you wearing his shirt. A faint smile forms on his lips at the sight. He has you here with him, not with JJ or Rafe or anyone else who's pining after you. You're his. 

You've spent the entire day together on Topper's boat. It couldn't have been more perfect. The hours slipped by without either of you two noticing. Topper has been energized and enthusiastic about everything, all because he has you back. Around ten, you and Topper arrive at the Boneyard for the final bonfire of the summer. You wear distressed white short shorts over a black tank bodysuit with a matching black Chanel belt. All finished with the pearl earrings Topper gave you for Christmas last year.  

Topper keeps you close, his arm around your waist as you walk toward the crowd of teenagers. "I'm so lucky." 

You peer up at the boy with a giggle. "Why?" 

"I have the most beautiful girl in the OBX at my side," he flirts. 

You turn your attention ahead, struggling to hide your blushing. "You sound like Rafe." 

Topper steps around to walk backward in front of you. He locks his fingers through the loops of your shorts and pulls you into his chest. "At least he and I agree on something." He grins, resting his hands on your hips. 

You playfully roll your eyes but find it hard to hide your amusement. "You're such a cheese ball." 

"I'm gonna go get us some drinks," he announces before planting a quick peck to your temple. 

You nod, stepping back toward the shore as Topper holds onto your hands until the last minute. "Okay, I'll find us a spot by the water." 

"Be right there," he winks, offering you a mischievous smirk. 

For a second, you watch Topper jog off to the stack of coolers by the cement wall. Is it possible to be too dependent on someone? You know that if you and Topper stopped talking completely that you wouldn't physically die, but emotionally it would destroy you. You smile, knowing that you two will grow closer because of your fight. It taught you a valuable lesson. It took losing Topper for you to fully comprehend how much you need him. Turning on your heels, you head toward a log facing the shore. It's far enough from the chaos to give you and Topper some privacy, but close enough to still be included in the festivities. You two are both social butterflies, but today has been about you two and you want to keep it that way. You sit down on the log, content watching the small waves crashing against the sand just a few feet away. The light of the moon shimmers on the water, making it looks like lines of crystal. 

"Want a drink, Princess?" A familiar voice asks over your shoulder 

You glance up to see a 

"Wow, you look extra Kooky tonight," he remarks under his breath as he brings his cup to his mouth. 

You glare at him. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Let's play a game!" He blurts out. "How many items that Y/N is wearing are designer?"

You roll your eyes, realizing how drunk he is because JJ isn't like this. "How much have you had to drink?" 

"Just the right amount!" He answers swiftly before moving on. "My guess is all of them, but I can't be too sure. You'll have to take off your clothes so I can check what's underneath." 

"You wanna sit for a second? Maybe cool down a bit?" You offer, gesturing to the space beside you. 

His expression shifts from carefree to hurt. "Why do you care?" 

"JJ..." You sigh, peering up at the boy with immense guilt. 

"What?!" He tosses his arms up at his sides, losing some of his drink in the process. "You come here with Prince Charming, acting all coupley!" 

 "It's not like that-" You try to explain calmly. 

"Not according to Sarah!" He counters in a shout. You nervously check over at the crowd, making sure no one heard him burst. "You two planning your next trip to Bermuda?!" 

"What!" You whip your head back around toward JJ. "What did Sarah tell you?!" You fly up to your feet, stepping toward him defensively. 

"Did you sleep with him?!" JJ yells again and you're sure others heard him this time. 

"Excuse me?" You gasp at his audacity. 

"After you left John B's, did you go and find him?!" He elaborates with a breathless laugh. He steps closer to you, getting in your face. He doesn't care if others listen or if he's making you uncomfortable. "After you kissed me and slept in my bed, did you go and sleep with Topper?!" 

Abruptly, you feel a hand pressed to your back and see JJ being shoved backyard. 

"Hey! Back off man!" Topper growls, suddenly at your side. 

JJ catches himself from falling after a second of stumbling. "Oh and here he is now!" He laughs, tossing his cup to the side. "Your knight in shining armor!" 

"I think you should go, man!" Topper warns between his teeth. 

Topper's arm slips around you and grips your waist protectively. You watch JJ as he glares at Topper's arm around you. 

"Don't "man" me, alright! Touch me again and you'll lose a hand!" JJ threatens. 

"JJ!" John B calls for his friend as he runs toward you from down the beach. Kiara, Pope, and Sarah are close behind him. When JJ doesn't react. John B shouts again. JJ! Come on, let's go back over to the fire." 

"No! Not until she answers me!" JJ screams, yanking his arm free. 

Pope, Kiara, and Sarah watch in distress as JJ and Topper go back and forth. None of you are sure what to do. 

"Answer what!" Topper barks, stepping toward JJ defensively. You grab his arm, keeping him back. 

"Oh, I'm sorry! Is your name Y/N?" JJ laughs mockingly. "That Kook Academy doesn't do you guys any favors for your intelligence does it?" 

Pope steps around to block off his friend. "Just cool down, buddy!" 

"I knew you were Kook, Y/N, but I would've never marked you as slut," JJ shouts at you over Pope's shoulder. 

Topper breaks free of your hold, charging at JJ. John B grabs Pope and yanks him out of Topper's way. Now block-less, JJ runs at Topper. His face is red with aggravation. You could've never imagined seeing JJ look so enraged. The person he was with you the other night was entirely different. He was kind, gentle, understanding. You don't recognize him. Topper shoves JJ hard enough to make the boy fall back onto the sand. 

Topper tackles JJ into the ankle-deep water, immediately punching him in the jaw. The two grunt, struggling to get the upper hand. John B attempts to pull Topper off. 

"Topper!" You yell desperately. 

"JJ!" Kiara yells from the sidelines. 

"Enough!" John B barks at the pair as Pope runs to assist. 

The crowd by the bonfire starts to figure out what's going on a few yards away and rush over to watch. Pogues and Kooks each cheer for their fighter. Kelce and Rafe show up, pushing through the crowd to help out their friend. 

"Topper! Get off of him!" You plead as your best friend continues to press JJ's head under the water. 

JJ manages to punch Topper in the cheek, making the boy lose his balance for a second. Despite hating each other, Kelce and Rafe try to help out John B and Pope. 

"Guys! Quit!" Kelce commands, pulling at Topper. 

"Top, you'll kill him!" Sarah screams from beside Kiara. 

You want to go stand with them, but at this moment you're not sure if they want anything to do with you. Sarah and Kiara are Pogues. You're not just Y/N right now, their friend. You're a Kook during this Kook vs. Pogue fight. 

The boys manage to yank Topper off of JJ. The blonde Pogue flies up from beneath the surface, gasping for air. Topper falls back onto the sand in a seated position. Topper continues to fist JJ's collar and as he's shoved off, ripping JJ's shirt down the front. You notice the large purple and blue bruise on JJ's chest and freshly heeling cut down his neck to his collar bone. JJ frantically reaches behind himself, searching for something. Then, things take a turn for the worst when he whips out a gun. The crowd that watched the fight with amusement now scatters in a panic. 

"Woah! Woah! Woah!" Topper's eyes grow wide as he starts to scoot back, holding up a hand pleadingly. 

Kelce and Rafe bolt away, John B and Pope rush out words, trying to calm JJ down. 

"JJ!" John B yells at his friend. "What the hell?!" 

"Oh my god!" Sarah's hands fly up to her mouth. 

"That's right! Bet you didn't think I had that did ya?" JJ grins wickedly at Topper. 

"Topper!" Kelce attempts to collect his friend but halts when JJ points the gun at him. 

"Everyone back off!" JJ orders, rising to his feet, returning the gun's point toward Topper. 

Without a second thought, you sprint across the sand. You slide in front of Topper, the waves splashing against you. 

"Y/N! No!" Topper screams as soon as you land in JJ's path. 

"Y/N!" Sarah and Kiara shout your name in unison. 

JJ hesitates when his eyes land on you. You see him lower the gun a little and Kelce takes the opportunity to pull Topper from the scene. 

"JJ please..." you beg of him. 

Your heart is racing, but you're certain JJ won't hurt you. Despite his evident pain and anger toward you, he won't do it. You remember the boy from the other night, the one who spoke to you with such admiration. That boy wouldn't harm you. You know he's in there beneath this tough facade. 

"Y/N! Come on!" Rafe wraps his fingers around your arm and drags you away. 

While he's distracted by you, John B swiftly steals the gun from JJ's hand and begins ushers him away to their circle of friends. The Pogues swarm JJ, all talking over each other. 

 Rafe frantically cups your face, checking on you. "Y/N! Y/N, are you okay?"

"I'm fine..." You mutter, glancing over your shoulder, watching John B talk to JJ down the beach. 

"No cuts? Scrapes?" Rafe panics. 

"No..." You shake your head absent-mindedly as you’re too distracted by observing JJ. 

"Are you okay?" Kiara checks on JJ worriedly as you watch from a distant. 

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine!" JJ rushes out, still agitated. "Fuck this man!" He swears, then his eyes land on yours with surprise. He hand’t expected you to be listening or even care. 

You two stare each other from across the beach. Guilt consumes his features and sympathy breaks you apart as your vision lands on the wounds covering JJ’s torso. Rafe brings you over to Kelce who has Topper catching his breath against a tree. 

"Dude's fucking nuts, man!" Kelce curses, all fidgety beside you. 

As soon Topper sees you coming, he pushes himself off the tree and rushes to you. His arms engulf you as he presses you to his chest. 

He squats down to be at your level, cupping your face in his hands. “You’re so stupid, Y/N! You just jumped in front of a gun! Why would you do that?!” 

“Because it was pointed at you!” You justify desperately. 

Topper's eyes soften. “You’d risk your life for me?! Are you crazy?!” A soft, breathless, laugh escapes him. 

“Of course I would you idiot!” You remark with frustration. How could he possibly think you wouldn't? You'd do anything for the boy. 

“God, I love you so much," he mutters, placing a hand on either side of your head and planting a kiss on your forehead. 

“Are you sure you’re not hurt anywhere?” You check his body in a panic. 

“Yes, yes I’m okay!” He assures you. “Let’s get out of here before things get crazy again." 

Your eyes grow wide. “Agreed!” 

He looks over at you and Topper doting on each other. It makes him even more pissed off. "Great! Go baby him! Tend to your Kook Prince, you Princess!" He yells across the beach. 

John B covers his friend's mouth. "Shut up, JJ!" 

"Jesus JJ!" Pope huffs under his breath. 

You and Topper snap your heads in JJ's direction. As a result, Topper pulls you into his side securely. 

“We'll text you guys later!” Kelce calls out to you both as he and Rafe start backing toward their cars. 

“Stay close to me,” Topper slips his into yours, giving it a tight squeeze. “I’m never letting that psycho Pogue anywhere near you again!” 

When you arrive at Topper's car, he opens your door for you. He keeps a sharp eye on the Pogues that remain on the beach. When John B or any of them glance our way, he glares daggers in their direction. Once you climb in, Topper reaches in and begins to buckle your seat belt as though you were a toddler in a car seat. 

“Topper I think I can put on my own seat belt,” you 

“I know, Sweetheart. I’m just..." he stops his action, kneeling beside you. "I guess I’m still a little scared. I was so afraid when that gun was pointed at you, I... I couldn’t breathe. I can never lose you, Y/N,” he rushes out, becoming emotional. 

Your emotions become bottled up as a lump in your throat. You rub your fingers through Topper's hair and plant a kiss on his forehead. His hands glide around your waist to your back, hugging you needly. His head rests against your chest as you cradle it. 

Abruptly, he breaks from you as a thought pops into his mind. “Promises me that if there’s any dangerous situation like that again, you run!" He instructs sternly. "You don’t do anything reckless for my sake!” 

You shake your head frantically, already rejecting his words. “You would’ve done the same thing for me! You basically did!” You justify. 

“I’m seriously Y/N!" Topper stands his ground. Eagerly, he takes removes your hands from his hair and squeezes them in his own. "I could never live with myself if something happened to you! Never again!” 

You want to argue with him on it, claim that if he's going to be protective of you that he must understand that you'll be the same. Yet, nothing escapes you. Instead, you simply nod, not wanting to fight at this moment. 

He nods, satisfied by your compliance. “I love you, you know that right?” 

You nod. “I love you too, Topper." 

_________________________________________

JJ fell into a dark abyss of self-deprecation and destruction after the bonfire. The Pogues all drove back to John B's, but as soon as they got there JJ disappeared as he did the day before. All they can do is wonder where he goes. If they knew that he was at the bar searching for his dad half drunk, they would be stopping a second fight for the day. 

JJ can't help but feel responsible for it all. One minute he has you. You're right there. The next, you're gone, in the arms of Topper of all people. He wants to know if anything from the other night was real for you. Was he just a game to you? You're the Princess of the OBX, you can have anything you want, including JJ if you asked. Is that what happened? You wanted him for a night and then got bored and went back to your fellow Kook. He wishes he hadn't let you down. He wishes you were here. He wishes that he could hold you again and feel you in his arms. Waking up next to you was the best moment in his life and he fears he'll never feel that sort of peace again. 

______________________________________________________

You Topper spend the night at his house, too afraid to be apart. Late into the night, Topper struggles to fall asleep as he holds you. Your back is pressed to his chest as his hands rest against you underneath his shirt you're wearing. Every time he tries to close his eyes, he envisions what could've happened tonight. You could've been shot. Topper could never live with himself if anything happened to you. Moving slowly to not wake you, he rolls onto his back and reaches toward the nightstand for his phone. He begins to scroll through social media and text messages, responding in the group chat between you, Kelce, Rafe, and himself. You've all agreed to go to lunch tomorrow at the Club with some other Kooks from the bonfire. 

You stir next to Topper, making the boy pause for a second. When you roll over still asleep and curl into him, a wave of relief rushes over Topper. 

“Go back to sleep,” you yawn. 

Topper jumps at the sudden sound of your voice. “Shit... sorry Beautiful, I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“I’ve been awake. I could feel you overthinking," you whisper, scooting closer into his side. 

“You could feel me thinking?” He repeats with a hint of confusion.

You hum, as it makes perfect sense to you. You hear the sound of Topper pushing his phone back onto the side table. He rests his now free hand over your arm that lays across him. After a couple of minutes, you can still feel the tension radiating from him. 

“I’m okay, Topper,” you tell him to ease his nerves. 

“I know, I can’t just help but review the course of events in my head. What if he didn’t hesitate? What if his hand slipped? What if-“ 

“Enough!” You fly up to prop yourself up on your elbow. You stare down at the worried boy with sympathy. "You’re okay! I’m okay! What’s done is done and all we can do is be safe from now on. We’re safe!” You reach up and comb your fingers through the side of his hair. “Okay? It’s just you and me here.” 

Impulsively, Topper extends his neck and slams his lips to yours. You sit stunned as the kiss rides out its course. You and Topper go months without anything intimate and within two days, he's kissed you twice, breaking every ruled you two have made. When you don't react, Topper breaks from you with a startled expression, as if he wasn't comprehending his actions. 

“Y/N, I'm sorry! I-“ 

Before Topper can finish his sentence, you press your lips to his hungrily. You're not sure why, but you need him. Topper is your kryptonite, the bittersweet reality in your life. Forgetting his regret, Topper immediately sits up, resting against his headboard. You take the opportunity to straddle his torso and he keeps you steady with his hands on your hips. It's been ages since you've made out, but it's like riding a bike for you two. You know what each other likes and what gets the other going. 

"I've missed you so much," Topper whispers against your jawline as he moves down to leave marks on your neck. He aggressively attacks your sensitive skin where evidence of JJ remains. Deep down in the back of your mind, you know Topper is parking his territory for JJ to see later. Your skin has become a battleground for the two. "I've missed this." 

"Me too," you pant, silently wondering if you truly mean it in the same sense as him. 

Though you chose to kiss Topper back and want to, you can’t understand why JJ’s face enters your mind the moment you do. As you deepen the kiss with Topper, you chase the sensation he’s giving you. You're addicted to the way he makes you feel, it's familiar and reminds you of a time when you were carefree. Yet, your thoughts remain fixated on JJ. You want Topper, but all you can think about is JJ. 

__________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @starkeythinker @bethii1 @thegunnerkelly@cc13723things @hockeybabe87 @jolomez

[spaceskam]

welcome to another "I wrote this at work ignore the typos" situation featuring content in the little teaser for s3

ao3

"Michael Guerin with a cup of tea. Interesting."

"Bettering myself with soothing beverages," Michael said, leaning back in his chair as he looked up at Alex. He still felt a little off kilter, but he had no intention of guilt tripping Alex. It was a work in progress. He was a work in progress.

"Is that a quote from self proclaimed life coach Isobel Evans?" Alex asked, cocking his head to the side and smiling. Michael felt dizzy with it. It'd been so long without that fucking smile.

"How'd you know?" Michael asked, trying to keep the conversation light and not let it drift to an antagonistic place. He was good at that. Unfortunately, he was less good at keeping that at bay. "Where's the boyfriend?" Work in progress.

"He couldn't stick around, had to get to a meeting. He just met me at the bus stop," Alex said. Michael nodded and only then let his eyes drift away from his face, giving him a quick once over and tried not to be greedy with it. He still had his bags. "Is this seat taken?"

"Yeah," Michael said, casual as possible because Alex deserved that, "Saving it for this guy I met a few years back. You might know him. Around my height, dark hair, nice biceps, used to be in the army, killer thighs–literally, I almost suffocated me once."

"Shut up," Alex laughed, sitting across from him, "And I wasn't in the army."

"Same evil."

"Fair enough," Alex said, clasping his hands together and leaning forward, "Man, what's a guy gotta do around here to get a drink?"

Michael absolutely did not get his hopes up about this.

"Just sit there and look pretty," Michael said, pushing himself to his feet.

He'd been working a little harder and getting Sanders to make the place look a bit nicer in the front so new comers would show up, both resulting in everyone making more money. It was the most money Michael had ever had saved up before and he barely knew what to even do with it. He'd never wanted it before, never wanted to act like he was here to stay, but now it was there and now he could pay for Alex's drink.

He allowed himself to feel a little good about himself for that.

He order a medium vanilla latte, extra vanilla and an extra shot of expresso like he'd seen Alex order when they were a younger. Before he was a complete fuck up. Before when ordering anything but black coffee felt rebellious. And he paid for him for the first time. And he absolutely wasn't prideful bringing it back.

The look on Alex's face said he was also aware that this was the first time he could afford to buy him something so trivial, but he wasn't going to say anything because he was Alex. He took a sip as Michael sat across from him again and he smiled with a tiny bit of foam gracing his top lip. Michael felt his chest constricting with some twisted sort of pride and he refused to let himself be embarrassed by it.

"Thank you," Alex said.

"No problem."

Then they lapsed into silence, drinking their respective drinks and staring. Alex never turned his head away like he usually did; Michael never broke the silence like he usually did. None of it was awkward or uncomfortable or tense. It was just... having non-alcoholic drinks with someone he loved in whatever sense of the word he could.

It was nice. It was easy. It was something so completely different than Michael knew what to do with.

He craved more.

"So, do you need a ride to your house so you don't have to walk with all that?" Michael asked, definitely not mentioning that Forrest at the very least could've taken it. Granted, there's a chance he offered and Alex declined, which would be very much like Alex, but still. If he can kiss him, he can help with his bags.

"Depends. Are you willing to drive out to the middle of nowhere?"

"So that was a sold sign," Michael said. Alex took a deep breath and nodded.

"Yeah. It was a nice house, but it didn't really feel like home, you know? And after everything..."

"No, I get it," Michael said, nodding, "So where are you staying now?"

"Old Valenti hunting cabin. My cut of the inheritance and what I'm getting for selling my house is gonna be used on making it decent," Alex said.

"And amping up the security system," Michael added. Alex grinned and nodded.

"And amping up the security system."

"Well, it's my day off, so I can definitely take you," Michael said, not saying he took the day off specifically to meet Alex. That wasn't necessary information.

"You don't have to."

"What if I want to?" Michael asked. Alex looked at him, still smiling but he was clearly a little wary. "Just let me help out. I'm even going to try to not make you feel bad about the boyfriend."

"Oh, well, thank you so much for your efforts," Alex said sarcastically, but his tone was light and his smile was even more so, "But you really don't mind?"

"Alex, it's the least I can do," Michael said. It sounded weird in his voice, but it felt right. Alex seemed to agree if the look on his face said anything. Michael was more than a little proud of himself for not second guessing himself or assuming the worst.

Maybe he actually did do some growing.

"Okay then. Let's go."

Having Alex in his truck again didn't feel real. He was giddy in a way he hadn't felt in awhile and the fact that his bags were on the floor and not between them made that feeling skyrocket. Alex was comfortable with him. Or, at least, he seemed to be.

"Did you have fun?" Michael asked. Alex huffed a laugh.

"Well, I mean, I was doing dirty work, so not really. Forrest met me a couple times but I never wanted him to stay too long, was way too dangerous," Alex said, turning in his seat to face him.

"When I came out there with Kyle, you let me stay awhile," Michael said. He wasn't bragging. Absolutely not. He was simply useful for the task at hand and Kyle had to get back to work. Them eating take out on a hotel room floor and staying up too late was just convenient, a secret little addition to the trip.

"Yeah, but I trust you not to get killed by accident," Alex said, "Forrest had a good childhood. He's not at all aware of his surroundings like you are."

"Good for him," Michael said, readjusting his grip on the steering wheel. Alex may or may not have noticed.

"Also," he said slowly, "I'm kinda getting spoiled with the telekinesis thing, I'm not gonna lie."

Michael bit the inside of his cheek and tried not to be unnecessarily happy with that.

"Well if you ever need to make use of it, I'm your man," Michael said. Alex hummed in response–Michael couldn't tell if it was an acknowledgment or agreement.

It was around a 45 minute drive to the Valenti hunting cabin and the trip there was a bunch of small, winding, hand-made paths. You couldn't find it if you didn't know it was there. It was perfect for Alex.

Michael helped him get his bags inside and took in the fact that most of the stuff that had been in his house wasn't present. The furniture was broken in and there were a few boxes around, but not enough to hold everything from his house.

"I need a change," Alex said, going to the breaker box to turn the electricity on, "I thought that when I came back the first time that would be my big change, but I just did more of the same shit. So this is a real change."

"Sounds like it'd be good for you," Michael agreed.

"Yeah," Alex sighed, looking around. His eyes eventually landed on Michael again. "Do you have to go?"

"No, not unless you want me to," Michael said. Alex nodded.

"Move some boxes for me, telekinesis boy?" he asked. Michael grinned.

"Sure."

The spent what felt like two hours rearranging and unpacking and cleaning, Alex encouraging him to show off in a way that felt so ridiculously good. Everything about this was good. Spending time with him without expectation and tension and time limits.

He loved him more than his body had space for.

"Michael!" Alex said, immediately followed by a laugh, "You're going to break something!"

"I won't, have faith," Michael said, pulsing with the attention, "And if I do, I'll fix it."

He twisted his wrist, manuvering the fully put together bed frame through the door with his mind. It bumped into the door frame once or twice, but Alex just laughed and lightly scolded him.

Later, once they did what they could and got settled, Michael found himself on Alex's back porch with cans of coke in hand instead of beer.

"I love the view," Michael said.

"There's deer that'll get close if you're quiet," Alex said, "You'll have to sit with me to see them sometime."

"Yeah, whenever you'll have me," Michael said.

"Whenever you want," Alex responded. He sounded like he meant it.

Him meaning it didn't stop his phone from lighting up, didn't stop the way Alex's face closed off, didn't stop the way he sighed and locked it back. He took a long sip of his drink before he spoke.

"Forrest is on his way," Alex said. Michael shifted in his seat and nodded.

"So I should go."

"Do you have work tomorrow?" Alex asked instead of saying leave, instead of saying stay.

"Yep, bright and early."

"Okay," Alex said, "If I bring my truck up there in the morning, do I get privileges where I can sit with you in the back while you look over it and tell me what I need to fix after it sitting in my yard for nine months?"

Michael swallowed the lump that rose in his throat. He was leaving, he had to go because it wasn't his place to stay right now. But there was a promise of tomorrow. Of spending more time together just because.

The privilege of it, Alex said.

"Absolutely," Michael said, standing up, "I'll squeeze you in."

"Cool. I appreciate it," Alex said, looking up at him with a smile, "And I appreciate you helping me out today. Made all of that a lot easier."

"Not a problem," he said, "So I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Wait," Alex said quickly, getting himself to his feet and coming closer. Without much of a warning about what exactly was coming, Alex wrapped his arms around his neck. Michael hugged him back easily.

Alex squeezed him; Michael squeezed back.

"I'm so glad you're back," Michael whispered against him.

"I've gotta come home at some point, right?" Alex whispered back. Michael nodded.

They held on for longer than they should.

"Alright," Alex said after awhile, letting go with a reluctance Michael wasn't so unfamiliar with it ached, "I'll see you in the morning. I'll bring food."

Michael didn't like to get his hopes up.

He decided not to be scared this time.

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Fic: Wicked

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: The Equalizer 2

Ships: Dave York x you (established cishet relationship, no kids, no mention of marriage but bitch you could be his wifey)

Additions tags/warnings: DaddyDom!Dave, pet names, spanking, sort of half-public sex, squirting, multiple orgasms, PiV sex (unprotected but they're good, don't count on it yourself so wrap it up).

Summary: Dave comes home to find you washing the car dressed in pretty much nothing so of course he has to establish dominance.

Note: This honestly started as a cute Frankie Morales story and then it took an interesting turn and Frankie noped the fuck out of it so I had to try my hand at Dave. So here you have it: my first Dave York fic. Porn it is, plot it has none. (We didn't really get along so I don't know if I'll ever revisit him.)

Dave sees you at a distance as he drives along the suburban residential road towards the house he shares with you.

“Sweet Jesus,” he mutters under his breath as he slows down and hits the turn signal. Coming to a smooth stop behind your car, he checks the rear view mirror and sees the neighbor across the street sitting on their porch with a beer in hand.

Asshole.

He gets out of the car, tie loosened and jacket over his arm, and eyes you as you smile brightly at him. Like you're completely unaware of the fact that you're washing your car in tiny cut-offs and an unwired bikini top, and that half the neighborhood is ogling you.

“Hey baby,” you beam and lift your hand to bring a damp lock of hair behind your ear. You're holding the sponge, and it drips soap onto your chest, a white bubbly smear that slowly runs down between your breasts. His eyes widen a little.

Jesus FUCKING Christ.

“Good day? Did your job fix the AC yet?”

“They did after lunch,” he says dismissively before frowning unapprovingly at you. “And are you aware that you’ve got an audience? Might as well put up a pole in the driveway and have people pay.”

You frown and wipe another lock of hair that's come loose from your ponytail.

“Don’t be such a prude,” you sigh. “You don’t get to tell me how to dress in my own yard.”

“’Course I don’t, but I get to tell you that I don’t like it,” Dave mutters darkly. The last few days of working with no AC during a heatwave have made him grouchy and even if he wasn't, you're his.

“You can, but I won’t listen," you shrug indifferently. He loves you for your resistance, your independence. You can do anything and everything without him, yet you choose to lean on him, to share everything with him. And despite all your competence: the way you fall apart for his hands, his mouth, his cock, and hand yourself over to him...

"Dave, it’s a million degrees out here and the car needs to be washed.” Your neutral expression is changed into a flirty grin. “I can wash your car, too… and you can watch.”

You lean in for a kiss and fuck, how could he ever resist your charm? You smell of sweat, car wash soap, and sunscreen and you taste of homemade lemonade and sweat from your upper lip. He sucks it into his mouth and savours the saltiness of it as his hand slides down your warm, naked side and settles on your denim hip where one of his fingers finds a belt hoop, goes through it and pulls you closer.

“Now who’s putting on a show for the neighbors?” you mumble, breaking the kiss, and he feels himself unravel at your words, how you look, just how you are with him: so clearly secure, trusting, playful. You're pushing all his buttons and you know it.

"Better stop before someone calls the cops on us for indecent exposure," he murmurs. "I want you in the house. Now.”

“Sorry,” you smile innocently. “Not done with the car. In fact, that soap’s drying on it now, it’ll make stripes.”

You turn around and pick up the hose, teasing him with the view of your ass. Dave slaps your right buttock, making you yelp.

“Be quick,” he tells you and goes towards the front door. His cocky stride change into a run when cold water hits him square in the back, and your laughter chases him indoors.

He takes off his wet shirt and changes into shorts before taking a cold can of beer from the fridge and going back out. Donning his sunglasses, he makes himself comfortable in a recliner on the porch, pops open the beer, and settles to watch you work. You shoot him a smirk but don't pay him much attention – although you do lean over the hood more than necessary, displaying cleavage or denim-covered ass to him. He’s half hard inside his shorts and if the front of the house had been more secluded he would definitely have whipped out his dick and rubbed one out.

Or had you on your back on the hood of your wet sedan.

Bent you over it and fucked you from behind.

Made you squirt all over the clean, shining surface of your car.

Fuck. He takes a long swig of the beer.

You give the car one last rinse and dry off the wipers with a piece of cotton waste. Straightening your back, you once again wipe your sweaty forehead with the back of your hand, satisfied at a job well done. As you start to roll up the garden hose, Dave loses his patience. He puts two fingers to his mouth and gives a shrill whistle that makes you look over to him. You can read his eyes despite his sunglasses and, with raised brows, you saunter over to him, taking your time. Your flipflops are slapping against your bare feet and despite hating flipflops more than anything else, it doesn’t make Dave cringe this time.

“Really?” you purr when you reach him. Dave gives you a toothy smirk.

“Humor me,” he asks you. “Neighbor's still watching and I want him to still be looking for his jaw when his family gets home.”

“You’re such a gorilla,” you sigh, but of course you love it. You know how Dave is and you wouldn't be with him if you couldn't handle it. Obediently, you bend down to kiss him. When you bite his lower lip, he gives a little growl.

“Inside,” he commands you in a low voice. “Now.”

“Not so fast,” you smile and reach for his beer. He stares at you through the dark lenses of his sunglasses as you knock back what’s left in the can and burp discreetly behind your hand.

“Okay, now we can go in.” He throws the sunglasses on the small table next to the recliner and gets up smoothly.

"Move that ass for me." Another order, not a wish. A small smile playing on your lips, you turn around and slowly walk to the front door, swaying your hips, looking over your shoulder in a most coquettish fashion.

"Like what you see... daddy?"

"You'll find out soon, baby girl."

Your skin and nipples knit over and it's not just because you've stepped into the house where the air conditioning immediately hits your warm, sweaty skin. You turn around just as Dave closes the door behind him. The feracity in his face makes your cunt bottom out as he grabs you by the arm and maneuvers you around. He presses you against the front door, into the vertical crevice with the fogged window glass. It's just wide enough to fit your frame. You hold your breath as he leans in, his breath hot on your skin.

"Have you been good?" he asks in a low voice. You shake your head only to give him a reason to prompt you, maybe give you a little slap.

"Words, baby girl, use them."

"I haven't been good at all, daddy." You look at him from under your eyelashes.

"You say that with such pride," he sighs, as if he's deeply disappointed in you. "Why do you enjoy being bad?"

"I don't, daddy," you assure him breathlessly, "I just am. I can't help it."

"Like fuck you can't. You do this to spite me, don't you?" His fingers ghost over your cheek, delicately. "You parade your half-naked self around in front of everyone just to rile me up, don't you?"

His hand closes around your throat and your heart skips a beat.

"Answer me, baby girl."

"Yes, daddy," you moan, your lips hungry for him. "I do it so that you'll punish me. I... I need your mouth, daddy, please."

"You can do better than that." He's relentless, so you beg, both your hands coming up to hold the wrist of his hand that's choking you. Not to try to let him release you, but because you know he likes it when you pretend to struggle a little.

"Please, daddy, kiss me. I'll be good for you if you just let me have one kiss," you whine, moving your body against his. "Nobody kisses me like you do, daddy, kiss me to remind me that I belong to you."

Dave humours you sooner than you expected. His kiss is searing and he loosens his hold of your throat slightly to allow for better breathing.

"Safeword?" he asks you quietly when he finally withdraws and you're breathless, trembling, soaked through.

"Pentagon," you answer immediately, locking eyes with him to show him that you're fully capable of consent. He touches your lips with his, softly, in reply. The kiss is sweet and holds no power play.

"Good girl." Your two favorite words that make you feel flushed, time and time again. Your face follows his when he draws back from the kiss, but he steps back, smiling wickedly.

"You stay right there. You have to earn it."

"Yes, daddy," you answer obediantly, keeping your back against the door, feeling the warm glass of the vertical frosted window against your back. Dave lets his dark gaze wander over your body, taking all of you in. You could swear that he can smell your wet cunt and hear your hearbeats.

"Undress, baby girl," he tells you. "And tell me what a fucking tease you are."

You hold back on the confident smile that threatens to spread on your lips. Dave wants you seemingly helpless. But there's no reason why you can't torture him a little, as well.

You reach around to pull on the bikini string on your back and the cups of your bikini loosen.

"I am - "

you pull the string around your neck and the top falls to the floor.

" - such - "

slowly, you unzip your shorts and slide them down your hips, the bikini bottoms coming off at the same time.

" - a fucking - "

you kick off your pants and flip-flops and stand naked before him, meeting his hungry eyes innocently.

" - tease, daddy."

"And what do teases get?" Dave breathes. You can see from the tightness of his neck muscles, the way he closes his fistr, and the outline of his hard dick in his pants that he's having a hard time holding it together. He's usually very patient but it seems that the heatwave has taken its toll on his nerves.

"They get punished."

"That's right, baby girl. Now, turn around and stick your ass out."

Lower lip caught between your teeth, you obey as slowly as you can. You even give him a little shake of your ass when you lean forward against the door.

"No, sweet girl," Dave tuts behind you. "You wanted to show yourself. Press your tits against the glass."

"What?" you gasp, not sure you heard correctly.

"You heard me. Press your tits against the window. Don't make me repeat myself."

This is new. You step a little closer to the door where the glass of the window is warm against your skin. Hands on either side of the window, you lean your chest against it. Even if the glass is fogged, something crammed up against it like this will be visible on the outside and you can only imagine what your tits look like from the other side of the door. There is a front lawn between the door and the sidewalk, there shouldn't be an risk of anyone coming over, or looking, why would anyone stand on the sidewalk and stare at your front door?

"Is my little princess okay?" You startle when you feel Dave's hand tenderly curving over your ass cheek, and you decide that you are okay with this.

"Yes, daddy." You brace yourself against the door.

"Good. Now, count them out, baby girl." His hand leaves your skin and not a breath later, lands on it again with a sharp slap. You yelp in surprise and gasp out One. He's building up to it, you can tell because this wasn't so bad, he's capable of much more force.

The second slap comes on your other cheek and is a little harder.

"Two," you moan.

"Good girl," Dave praises you in a low voice as he moves his hand over to your other buttock before raising it. This time, the slap stings and you squeeze out the right number. Alternating between your buttocks, he adds more force to each spank and when you reach eight, your buttocks are burning as much as your pussy.

"Is that enough, baby girl?" His hands are warm on your sensitive, glowing ass. You're breathing heavily and a part of you wants him to go on, find out how far he can take you, but you need to be able to sit tomorrow.

"Yes," you whine. "Thank you, daddy."

"You're welcome, my girl," he soothes you. "You took that like such a good girl. Daddy's very proud of you."

"Please," you keen, now desperate for him to touch you where you need him the most. He has spanked all the confidence out of you and now you're just a simpering fool for him. "I'm so wet for you, daddy, I need you."

"Oh, my pretty little girl." Dave shoves his tented shorts against your ass and it stings in the most delicious way. "You took your spanking so well, you deserve a reward."

You almost sob when his fingers reach your dripping cunt.

"My wet, filthy girl," he growls and presses down on your clit. Instinctively, you buck against him and your tits come loose from the window. You gripe insolently at the loss of his touch when he withdraws his hand and instead pushes you back against the glass.

"Remember why you're here, my pet."

"Yes, daddy."

"Tell me."

"Because... I paraded my half-naked self in front of the whole neighborhood." You squirm when he slides his wet fingers over your ass.

"That's right. So now you get to show everyone what it is that I own."

"Yes, daddy. But please..."

"I got you, my pet."

You moan loudly when his fingers push into your slickness and moan again even louder when he starts to work your clit.

"Such a wet little cunt for me," he murmurs into your ear as he crowds you against the door. "Go ahead, baby girl, you can cum whenever you wish, you have my permission."

"Thank you, daddy," you hiss as you let the pleasure take over you. "You're so... so good to me... I love you, daddy."

"And daddy loves his baby girl." Dave presses a kiss to your shoulder, then bites it and growls. "Cum for daddy, baby girl, cum all over my hand."

His thick fingers are hitting you just right and you feel the pressure build up like clouds before a storm and you know it's going to blow you apart, you want it to blow you apart, you need it to, you have to -

"Daddyyyy...!" Your scream is helpless and pitiful as the orgasm tears through you in a release that manifests itself in a spray of liquid that splashes over Dave's hand and spreads in drops around both of you. You hear Dave's excited Fuck, baby girl, that's it but you barely recognize it as a sound coming from the same room because he's still fucking you with two fingers and his thumb on your clit and GOD you squirt again, your feet are soaked in it and you're sobbing, daddy, daddy, please -

"One more, baby girl."

No, you can't, not another one, no, you'll burst, you'll break, you'll die, yes, yes, do it, fucking do it, and he does it and your shaking legs are glistening with the wetness.

"Good girl," Dave gasps. "Such a good girl, I've never fucked such a good girl before." Your cunt clenches at his words, god, how can you want more? He pulls you upright and turns you around before slamming you back against the window. Pulling down his shorts just enough to free his cock, he lifts one of your legs and hooks his arm around the thigh before sliding into your hot wet mess of a pussy. You wrap your arms around his neck tightly, afraid you'll lose your balance and fall, but his strong arms keep you where you should be.

"I got you, baby girl," he grunts and lets you draw him in for a sloppy kiss. Your arms going under his armpits and around his shoulders as Dave starts to fuck you with furious intent, like his vigorous effort is to make a dent shaped like your ass in the front door window. You break the kiss to let out your moans of Own that pussy, daddy, show me who owns that pussy and he buries his face against your neck, biting it, all the while fucking that wonderful wet, tight little pussy of yours. You tighten around him rhythmically and it’s fucking fantastic, he can’t have enough of it and he knows that he’ll blow soon, he’ll come so hard into that pussy that he fucking owns, he owns all of you and you can parade yourself around the yard and in the grocery store and wherever you fucking want to but only he gets to fuck you, only he get to be with you and sleep next to you and only he can make you make those sounds that you're making now when you're tensing up with another impending orgasm and jesus fucking christ –

He spills himself into you with a loud grunt just as you yell something unintelligible right next to his ear. He fucks into you a couple of extra times for good measure before slipping out and letting your leg down, but keeping his arms around your waist to make sure you won’t fall.

You blink your eyes open, not sure when you closed them in the first place. Dave's looking at you with that tender gaze that he saves for you only.

"My good, filthy girl," he smiles. You smile back, exhausted, hot and cold at the same time, soaked, dirty.

"Is that... how you keep me to yourself?" you manage, "by putting my tits and ass on display in the front door window?"

"You know it, baby girl." He puts a hand on your hip, beckoning you to turn around. "How is said ass? You need some aftercare, my love?"

You turn your behind for him to see and try to peek over your shoulder. "What's it look like?"

"Gloriously red."

"Mm, feels like it, too. I'm good. You were good to me." You look at the front door and see the round, oily tell-tale shapes on the window glass, and running drops of your release. Turning back to Dave, you grin sheepishly.

"I'll clean up," Dave volunteers, pressing a kiss to your neck. "You go grab a shower."

"Thanks, baby." Gingerly, you crouch to pick up your clothes and make your way to the stairs. As you ascend them, you hear him muttering.

"Who the hell washes their car on a hot sunny day anyway?"

You can't help yourself.

"Bad girls who want a spanking and know their daddies are on their way home from work, that's who!" you let him know. A second passes before you hear him curse low and then he comes running after you. Shrieking with laughter, you try to escape into the bathroom but Dave catches up to you in the bedroom and tackles you onto the bed.

"You wicked, wicked girl," he berates you before devouring your mouth with his.

[kooktrash]

Mafia!jimin where he caught yn trying to leave him in the morning bcs of his rival threatened her to kill her family if she didn't.

13. "Please dont leave me." And 17. "Are you upset with me?" Please :3

hdjhdjj

Love Surrender

summary: your relationship with Jimin had always felt like it was on bothered time, but you were too scared to tell him.

warning(s):

- You had always questioned what drove you to be with Jimin. He lied to you, did awful things to others, and wasn’t trustworthy. You always wondered if it was fear that you stayed with him, or love. But you couldn’t wrap your head around loving someone who couldn’t tell you who he really was. It took an entire year for him to tell you what he did for a living. That was one of the first lies he told to you. The second, was that he’d always protect you and your family no matter what.

But now you understood that it wasn’t possible. Because even though he had all these connections with big scary people, there was always someone who was going to find their way around his security. He tried his hardest to always make you feel safe, and you thanked him for that. Because on the days where you lived paycheck to paycheck or your car would break down, he was always there to pick you up. He treated you like you were his world, and he’d tell you that every day that you almost believed it.

And if it wasn’t for last night, you could’ve seriously pictured spending the rest of your life with him.

- “Y/n,” it was late. You wiped at the sticky bar top trying your hardest to hurry up. It was just your manager and you, and he loved to leave early. “You don’t mind closing by yourself tonight, right? I have to get my kids to bed already, the babysitter’s leaving soon.”

“That’s fine, I’ll make sure to lock up,” you had told him. You locked up the restaurant on your own many times, it wasn’t hard and almost everything had been done anyway. You’d finish cleaning up and then you’d text Jimin telling him you’ll be home soon.

The glass in your hands almost slipped at the sound of the door opening. You looked up, placing the cut down as you noticed the group of men walking in. Pushing your loose strands behind your ear, you frowned apologetically, “Hello, I am so sorry but we are closed for the night. The cook already left.” They ignored you, locking the door and pulling the blinds down. You found yourself taking a step back, one of them smiled at you, “You must be Y/n I’ve heard so much about.”

“Who are you?” With brows furrowed you waited, scooting to the side where your phone was put away in a drawer. “Consider me,” the man pushed for a moment, “A friend of Jimin’s. You can call me Suga.”

You could hear buzzing coming from the drawer and he smiled, “That must be him. Find the phone.”

You made a move to run but one of the guys gripped your arm. He clicked his tongue shaking his finger at you, “That’s not how you treat company now is it?”

“What do you want?” You asked trying to push against the restraints of the man’s grip. He smiled warmly, “Well you see, I don’t have any problem with you Y/n. You seem like a smart and hardworking girl, so why you’re with him? I will never understand. But that is not why I’m here.”

“The reason why I am here is because, I am tired of seeing pretty girls like yourself get hurt by men like Jimin.” He took a step closer to you. “What does that have to do with you?” You spat out, wincing as he lifted his hand to you.

Pushing your hair back he smiled, “Well let’s just say someone I hold dearly was in your position once upon a time.”

“So I want you to understand that my problem is not with you,” Suga said reaching into the inside pocket of his blazer, a picture of you with your sister and father, “Or with them. And unless you want to see them get hurt, I advise you to leave Jimin. For your own good that is.”

- You didn’t return home last night. It had left Jimin up majority of the night, your text for reassurance doing anything but that. “She’s not back yet,” he huffed looking to Jungkook as the two waited, “She won’t even answer my text.”

“She said she was sleeping over at Yuna’s, relax she’s fine,” Jungkook tried telling his friend. Jimin only shook his head, pacing back and forth, “I know but...no she’s fine. She has to be. She’d tell me if she was in trouble, right?”

“Yes, she would,” Jungkook sighed standing up, “So why don’t you get some sleep. You’re looking sort of psycho right now.”

The sun hadn’t even fully come up when you arrived home. You spent the night at your dad’s house, fixing up your room that had been used for storage. Your sister and him bombarded you with questions left and right, asking why you were leaving Jimin. They never understand the kind of people Jimin knew, or that you wanted to make sure your family was safe over being with who you loved.

Jimin was passed out on the couch, still in a suit and a few empty glasses scattered on the coffee table. You were as quiet as a mouse, trying to hurry into your bedroom to get your things. You didn’t want him to see you. He’d try and make you stay or ask why you were leaving. You hoped you could just go, not have to listen to his promises, not feeling like a burden to him.

You flickered the light to your bedroom on. Going into the closet and pulling a chair up. You stood on it, reaching a high shelf to pull your old duffel bag out. You hadn’t used the worn out bag since you first moved in. Not even when you’d go on vacation with Jimin, he’d buy you suitcases from high-end brands instead. You were leaving him, but you were only taking what you came with.

You threw the bag on the bed, quickly opening your drawers and pulling out what you could remember. A lot had changed since you moved in with him, but you could still remember your worn out things from the luxurious things he’d buy you. You shoved your laptop in, not caring much as you put shoes and clothes and everything you could think of.

“What do you think you are doing?” You could feel your heart drop, not wanting to turn around and face the reality. Jimin took a cautionary step toward you, heart racing as he got a closer look at what you were doing.

“Um, Yuna and I are spending the weekend at a spa, I forgot to tell you?” You lied, clearing your throat. You could see the way he pressed his teeth tightly, eyes narrowed down on your belongings as you tried blocking them. “Are you trying to lie to me right now? Right to my face?” He asked pulling out your old slippers from the bag, “What. Are. You. Doing?”

“I already told yo—I just gotta go for a little bit,” you bit your lip, “Jimin stop it.” You reached for the things he pulled out of your bag. “You’re leaving me aren’t you?” He asked through gritted teeth.

“Jimin I—“

“Why?” He asked, suddenly pushing your bag onto the floor, a crack being heard from your laptop hitting the ground, “And don’t fucking lie to me.”

“I just have to go okay? I have to go, please just understand and give me space,” you reached for your things with shaky hands. He grabbed your arm, pulling you toward him, “I don’t understand though. Tell me what’s going on. Are you in trouble? I can help you. Just tell me what it is. Is it money? Is your dad in the hospital again? I’ll pay the bill don’t worry about it baby, okay? Is it your sister—“

“No! I just, I need space okay? I don’t think I can do this anymore—“ “Y/n!” His body trembled, “Listen to me. What is going on? You can’t just leave me like this and not tell me why. You can’t just leave me. Please,” he reached for your hand pulling it to his chest, “Please don’t leave me. Whatever it is we can figure it out together, just like we have for the last four years.”

“Jimin I—“ he dropped down to his knees, arms wrapping around your waist, “No. Please Y/n. Please don’t leave me.”

“You don’t understand,” you could feel a tear slip from your eye as he planted soft kisses on your hand repeatedly, “I have to.”

“Why?” He shouted, eyes growing red, “Why do you have to leave me? Am I not enough for you? I’ve tried to give you everything, and I’m not asking for anything back but for you to love me. Do you not love me?”

“Jimin, he’s going to come after my family if I stay with you,” you finally said. He sniffled, looking at you with a cold expression slowly raising to his feet, “What did you just say?”

“I shouldn’t have said anything. Please just let me go,” you sighed but he gripped your shoulders roughly, “Who is he?”

“Jimin, you’ll only make it worse. You can’t always protect me,” you argued but he shook his head. “Who the fuck was it?”

“Some guy named Suga.”

“Look at me,” he held your face in his hands, “Unpack your things, right now baby. You’re not going anywhere, I won’t let you. Let me take care of him okay? I’m sorry for putting you in this.”

“Bu—“ “I’ve got it baby, don’t worry.”

“Are you upset with me?” You asked as the pad of his thumb wipe: a tear away, “I’m sorry.”

“No baby,” he kissed you lightly, “Of course not. But if you try leaving me again, I will be.”

::.

IM SORRY BABSHDJSKDHKSNDHSJSNSHSJKSD. I LITERALLY CANNOT WRITE MAFIA LIKE WHAT EVEN HAPPENS NEXT 😭😭😭

[eartht137]

DEAREST HEART- Letter One

Okay, For The Better has got me at a standstill. Every time I go to write the next chapter, I get a very "bad" idea and I have to write it in to meld with what I have in mind, but as my birthday is approaching in 2 days and Halloween is quickly approaching, I have developed a very new and delicious idea. I thought up this story in the shower. Hear me out, okay? The blinds that cover the window in my bathroom fell, and I mean fell from the wall, so I had to take a shower in the dark with a candle. Well it gets pretty muggy in my bathroom, as there's not a lot of room, so I opened the window to get some air, well with the wind blowing and the leaves rustling I kinda got that weird feeling that someone was watching me (which I highly doubt). In this story the character/you are a new wife and mom and you've been unmotivated to do normal chores and upkeep due to de pression and anxiety. I kinda wanted to touch on some real topics that I felt may resonate as I've noticed there is a lot of depression and anxieties that have been major high and I just wanted to send a small message that you are seen, you are heard, you are worthy, you are loved. Even if it is in your own world, I'd rather have my own world that I can escape to and have things go my way than keep taking on the pressure of things we deal with everyday. Also this is another Dark Clark Kent. I know, I know, the idea of the man just does something to me. So with that curvies, I present to you Dearest Heart. Okay rant over for the day. Please proceed..........oh yeah MMMMMMmwwwwwwaaahhhhhhh

Dark Clark Kent x Plus Size Reader

Warnings: Non Con, somnophilia, masturbation, stalking, mentions of impregnation. Maybe other things too. MINORS DNI!!!

You were getting up and ready for work, since starting your new job, you'd found yourself a bit out of balance. Being a new wife and mom, trying to adjust, you'd found yourself falling in and out of a reel of depression and anxiety. You very rarely had the energy or drive to clean and sometimes your depression got you to a point where you didn't really want to keep up your hygiene. Finally, you'd gotten the burst of life you needed and decided to make use of it while you had the drive. You started keeping up your hygiene as you used to and cleaned your house day by day. You started cherishing more moments with your husband and son. You had noticed the more you took effort within the day, it helped you feel a bit better everyday. One day, you stepped outside to get a breath of fresh air and sunlight. As you were getting ready to head back inside, you saw a letter place neatly on the bars of you security door with small rose. You tilted you head in confusion and looked around. You took the letter, seeing that it had "Dearest Heart' written beautifully across the front. You walked inside while admiring the vintage parchment envelope.

"Baby?" Your husband asked curiously, making you look up and smile as he and your son watched you.

"Well I think the mailman left someone else's mail-again." You sighed tossing the letter down on the table by your door. You went over and spent the remainder of you free time with your husband and son before heading into your office and logging on for work.

On your first break, you rushed out of your office hoping to spend time with your loved ones. You giggled as you watched your husband and son sleep with their mouths wide open on your couch. You were about to step into the bathroom when you got the nagging urge to go back and look at the letter again. You stared at it from across the room a moment before finally giving in to curiosity and grabbing it. You studied it for a moment before your husband adjusting on the couch startled you. You quietly went to the bathroom and examined the letter. Looking at your phone, you realized you didn't have much time, and would just open it to see what it looked like inside. A very hopeful side of you prayed that in your head that it was filled with cash that some good saint just felt in their heart to give, but you knew that was a slim chance. When you opened the letter, you almost gasped, almost like a child feeling as if you if you'd just done something forbidden. The alarm on you phone vibrated and you jumped, the letter dropped from you hands. You laughed a bit at yourself, picked up the letter, tucked it away and went back to work.

One your lunch break, after making something to eat for yourself and your hungry boys, you found yourself practically lured back to the bathroom to find the letter you'd tucked away for later. You opened it and pulled out a very beautifully written letter, but the first line damn near made your heart stop. You read it over and over trying to make sure you weren't seeing things, but there it was in black in, your name. You took a deep breath and continued reading the letter.

My Dearest Y/n,

I promised myself I wouldn't try to interfere in your life, but my heart won't let my stand idly by. I know this is abrupt as you've never seen me in your life, at least you don't remember meeting me, its been so long ago; but I can't keep quiet about this anymore as my love for you has yet to subside. I know it sounds unbelievable, but I swore I'd never lie to you and I am a man of my word. You might be a little worried as to how I know you, where you live-but you'd be shocked at how much I know about you and it'd scare you to know how long I've watched over you. Little love, I've been a bit disappointed in you. You allowed yourself to get to far down and instead of talking it out, you've been bottling everything in. We both know how that ends. You can talk to me if you need to, but I was really disappointed in how you allowed things to get. You weren't getting out of bed, you weren't keeping your hygiene up, and you weren't keeping the house up; on top of that, you haven't been utilizing any of your self-care tools. You didn't leave the house for a month and you cried every night by yourself because you're too stubborn to get out of your own head for two seconds and let the people who love you in. You were also finding a new lie every week to call into to work, that was disappointing darling because you don't have to lie, just tell them you need a day for your health, you don't owe them anymore explanation than that, but I don't want you to lie again. Do you remember those 2 weeks your backside was sore and stinging and you couldn't figure out why? I'm so sorry dear heart but I had to light a fire in you some way, and I just can't allow you to behave in such a way. I also can't stand to see the woman I love not take care of herself. On another note, I do want to tell you how proud of you I have been with how much you love and care for our son. He's growing so big isn't he? Oh darling, I know you think he's your husbands, but I guarantee he is my flesh and blood, why do you think he stares at me so long when he sees my photo pass your screen. His blood is my blood, he knows who he is. I have decided dear heart, to be a bit more active in your life as I have come to realize that my standing by protecting in the shadows is not enough. It will be awhile my love, but one day we will be together. You, Me and our son. I love you both so much, I promise you we will be a family as we should one day. For now I will continue to watch from the distance and protect you when you need me. I will also be there to talk whenever you just want to talk out loud. Before I end this letter, I want to also tell you how proud I am that you've started writing. I love the stories you've been writing about me and I promise to fulfill every one of you desires as soon as the time is right. Only this time, you'll be able to enjoy it as much as I have. I will be writing again, you don't have to reply, but it would be nice. Keep up the good work sweetheart, I love you.

With All My Heart and Soul,

Kal-El

Your heart pounded in your ears, you forgot to breath and tears filled your eyes. You kept trying to convince yourself it was a prank, but the more you tried to deny it, the more you knew it was real. You sat thinking to yourself, when you'd written a story about him, you didn't know anyone named Kal-El. You immediately started walking around your house making sure every window and door was locked. You wanted to tell your husband, but once again the gut feeling told you not to, and you'd realized that your gut was really on point and that just made things scarier.

You finished you lunch break and the rest of that day unable to concentrate on anything. That night while you took a shower, you kept looking through the blinds to see if you'd see someone. On one had you wanted to see if there was someone really there and on the other you felt you'd probably shit yourself if you really saw someone. After a moment or two, you'd finally convinced yourself it was a sick prank and someone in the neighborhood was being an idiot. You laughed a bit and finished up, ready to finally get the sleep you'd been begging for all day. As you laid in bed, every noise made you jump. Every time something or someone would move, you'd go from the precipice of sleep to fully awake. You had been feeling watched for the longest time and you'd just blamed it on being crazy, but now with the letter confirming your nightmare, you really had no idea what to do. Your mind ran and ran until it finally shut itself down and you drifted off to a very peaceful sleep despite everything going on around you.

He sat in the corner of your dark room watching you breath calmly. He wanted so badly to go over and rock you to sleep as he watched you struggle to fall asleep, but he couldn't present himself to you just yet, not until everything was perfect the way we wanted it before he showed himself.

He sat there watching you from the other side of the room knowing that soon you'd throw the covers off of your plush body exposing your luscious curves that he loved feeling in his large hands. His hand stroked himself as he thought back to the first night he took you. You were sleeping so good, you didn't hardly move. His released his hard thick cock from their restraints and pumped himself as he watched your breasts rise and fall with your breathing. He thought back to the first time he tasted your nipples, how hard they got when he kissed and nipped them. How wet you got for him and how he once made you cum from playing with them only. He then thought about how delicious you were. His fist moving faster and rougher down his shaft. He remembered how tight you were when he first fucked you. How hot and juicy you were as he pumped deep into your soft pussy filling you with every inch of him. He wanted to ruin you, and he wished you could see the happiness he felt when you couldn't cum one night from yours or your husbands touches. His hand pumped faster as he remembered fucking you so good one night your orgasm woke you as you came, as disappointed as he was that he couldn't feel you cum around him, he was still proud to have your body so responsive for him. That sent him over the edge and he came hard wanting so badly to empty inside of you. He wanted to see you round with his baby again, but he wanted to allow you the time to fully heal. He used one of your husbands shirts to wipe himself clean, and he gave you a soft peck on the lips, smiling when you turned away.

"I love you so much. I promise things will be right soon. Sleep well dearest heart." He whispered before leaving. He couldn't wait until you found his next letter.

[goldencherryhazz]

Shower

A/n: just a short smutty piece for you with a shitty ending. And once again I could not think of a title. Notes would be much appreciated! Pls don’t copy my work!!

Warning: smut, shower sex, fluff, swearing

Soapy suds littered your soft skin, the warm water of the shower cascading down your body, trying to wash away all the grogginess from being on a 9 hour flight from LA back to London. You felt amazing, not only because of the warmth spreading throughout your body but the fact that you had just traveled the world with your boyfriend Harry, you got to watch him perform practically every single night in the most flamboyant outfits singing his absolute heart out.

It was the best decision you’ve made, you’d decided your job had been made remotely accessible so how could you say no, being Harry’s second solo tour he had to admit that he was nervous even though he had toured countless times before, it was just that Fine Line was so raw, the rawest he’s ever been, there were a lot of his emotions harboured into every song but most of all he was more afraid that people wouldn’t like it, but you had comforted him along the way, which he was so grateful for having you there with him, instead of talking and maintaining your relationship through a tiny screen.

Sometimes you would have to grab both of his cheeks when he was overthinking and a little panicky pacing up and down his dressing room before a show ‘do you hear yourself, you’re being silly, that album is so beautiful and you are so so beautiful H inside and out, as long as you are happy nobody can tell you your not successful’ or something along those lines. Your last sentence was memorised in his head from the moment you said it even mentioned it in his Zane Lowe interview, it just meant soo much and grounded him erasing all of his worries, because it was true, his passion always laid with music it was a release for him the and it truly did make him happy even at the worst of times.

You are distracted from your thoughts when you hear the bathroom door creak open and a not even moment later Harry was walking into the room a little out of breath, he instantly started stripping. You chuckled at him, he had told you to take a shower whilst he sorted all of your twos luggage, and you knew he had done it as quickly as possible so he could get in the showers with you, hence why he was out of breath.

‘What are you laughing at’ he said trying to get his leg out of his jeans.

‘You’ by now Harry had flung his boxers onto the floor along with all his other clothes, and you couldn’t lie that you looked him up and down, all in naked glory.

‘You know my parents taught me that staring is rude y/n’ you looked at him in slight shock not realising that you had been staring at him, but you quickly conceal it.

‘M’not staring’ you say innocently

‘Then what are you doing’

‘I’m admiring you’ he chuckled at your response.

He steps into the showers and under the water towering in front of you, ‘and do you like what you see baby?’

You hide your face into his chest at his question, you know he already knew the answer but he wanted to hear you say it. ‘Don’t hide away from me, gimme a kiss’ he lightly grips your chin so that you would look up at him your eyes instantly lock with his green ones.

You clasp your hands behind his neck tangling you fingers in his now wet curls, moving to catch his lips in yours the mint from the gum he chews and the remnants of his cologne on his skin invade your senses. He brings his hand to the side of your jaw stroking it with his thumb, his tongue swiping your bottom lip, you gladly grant him access.

You start to feel a nudge on your thigh and you don’t have to look to see what I was ‘someones a little exited’ he smiles into the kiss ‘not had a proper fuck in ages my love, wanna feel you’ it was true that you and Harry hadn’t been properly intimate since being on your. Yes, you had had sex but only quick fucks here and there, Harry being busy all the time and then when it was time to go back to wherever they were staying he was utterly exhausted, but who could blame him, being a singer is very tiring work. Having sex on tour had fully satisfied your exhibitionist kink though, having quick sex before a show trying to keep quiet whilst there were people working away outside and always the possibility of someone walking in, cause Harry had a thing for forgetting to lock the door it was as if he wanted that to happen, which to be fair would be something Harry would do being the little shit that he is, and now that you were at home it felt so different, you could moan as loud as you wanted without anyone hearing you, and you could fuck in any room of the house without a care in the world.

‘Hmm, want you in my mouth’ you say biting his top lip ‘I have another idea sweet girl, and it involves a showers head’ you moan at this already knowing where this was going. ‘Do you want me to make you cum with the shower head darling’

‘Yes please H’ you clit tingling in anticipation, he quickly grabs the retractable shower head off the holder and sits down on the little bench along the wall, then gesturing for you to come sit, which you do turning around you ass on full show to him, so he couldn’t help himself when he gave each of your cheeks a small slap making you let out a quiet yelp, he just loved the way your ass jiggled.

As soon as you are seated in his lap, with your back against his chest he brings an arms around your middle to secure you from slipping. He then brings the shower head between your legs, the sound when his fingers intricately changed the setting to jet made shivers run up your spine ‘you ready sweet girl’ and before you have time to answer he aims the strong jet of water onto your clit, making you almost clamp your legs shut at the suddenness, you moaned uncontrollably at the way he ran the water in small circles almost to replicate the way his fingers would rub circles on your clit when you were close to cumming. ‘Feels soo good H’ your legs threatening to clamp shit once again, which Harry notices and quickly shoves your legs to the outside of his so that when you tried to clamp them shut again his legs would be able to stop the action. When the water hits a particularly sensitive spot on your clit it makes your back arch against him, your head falling into the crook of his neck, where he presses we kisses to your jaw. ‘Like the water on your pussy, don’t you’ he moans into your ear, his cock slightly rutting again to slope of your back to try and relieve some of the pressure.

‘Fucking love it’ you say frantically already being so close to the edge. ‘Bet your going to cum for me soon, can feel how your tensing up, knuckles are white from grabbing the bench too darling, so just let go, no need to hold it cause if you think this is the only time your cumming tonight then you are oh so mistaken baby, gonna have you screaming for me so much the neighbours are gonna get sick of hearing my name’ your on the edge now, legs shaking slightly you just need another gentle nudge and you will collapse, and as if Harry can sense it, he hovers his mouth over your ear his hot breath making contact with your cool skin ‘go on baby, cum for me’ and with that you are cumming, your back arcing impossibly more so much you thought you were going to break it, you hole pulsating rapidly, struggled breaths make it past your lips. Harry circles the jet around you clit a few more times before it all becomes too much for you, already growing incredibly sensitive, you push his hand away and Harry gets the message, immediately turning the settings so he could place the shower head down without it spurting water all over the room.

‘How was that baby?’

‘Felt really good, but I really would like your cock inside of me now’ your forwardness making him rut his hips against you back once again. You had only just cum and you were very sensitive but all you wanted right now was to be filled to the brim with your boyfriends cock, and who was he to deny you. He lifts you off his lap so that you would stand up so that he could do the same,he places the shower back in the holder and then immediately pulls you in for another kiss as if he had been deprived even though it had probably only been 5 minutes, seconds later you back hits the wall, the cold tiles against your skin making you hiss but also become a lot more horny the fact that Harry would inevitably be fucking you against that wall in the next few minutes. His hand run ups and down your body, making sure to touch every square inch of you skin, his hand starts to go lower and lower until the tips of his fingers come into contact with you pussy, still slick from your juices he runs them through you folds, making you jerk against him, a chuckle emitting from his lips ‘steady on there love’. He then brings his hand up to his mouth sucking in his fingers, then kissing you even deeper than before making sure that you got a taste of yourself ‘always taste-soo-fucking-sweet my sweet girl’ he manages to get out between heavy kisses. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you trace shapes onto the back of his neck, the sensation making him feel all fuzzy and all the more desperate to be inside you ‘jump’ he utters. Immediately making you wrap your legs around his hips, and the second you do you slip slightly, a yelp emitting from you lips but Harry’s hands come under your thighs securing you in his grip ‘don’t worry, would never let you fall my love’

‘Hmm, why thankyou my handsome boy’ you say making him hide in your neck ‘shut up’ he protests.

‘Never’ you chuckle at him threading your fingers through this hair once again, the moment soon turns into one of lust again when he starts sucking a hickey onto your neck, kissing over your collarbones to. ‘Really wanna fuck you’ he moans his eyes searching for yours, and when they make contact you can tell just how desperate he is ‘well fuck me then’ and that’s all you have to say before Harry lines his throbbing cock up with your entrance, then sinking into you to the hilt in one long thrust. Both of your moans fill the room, the angle making his cock go soo deep that it felt as though he was nudging at your stomach. ‘Soo fucking tight’ he whimpers at the overwhelming feeling of your walls squeezing around him.

‘You can move, please move’ and he doesn’t have to be told twice, although he swore he could have cum from merely placing his cock inside you, he steadily starts thrusting into you finding a rhythm. You fingers tug at his hair, you think you must be hurting him but when he moans even louder at a particularly harsh tug you are reminded of Harry’s undeniable pain kink, and you swear you can feel a new pool of wetness forming at your hole. ‘Faster please Harry’ you whimper when you feel his cock pick up pace you throw your head back, making a thud when it came into contact with the wall. ‘Shit feels soo good sweet girl, swear I could be buried in you pretty little cunt forever, s’like you were made for me’ he moans out.

‘Just for you Harry’ you whimper getting him even more riled up and delivers a particularly hard thrust up into your pussy, making you quiver around him. ‘Like that don’t you baby, like it when I’m a little rough with you’

‘I do, love it soo muc- shit you feel so good, hitting my special spot every time’ the knot in your belly starting to tighten. ‘Gonna cum for me again angel’ he asks already knowing the answer, you could hear the smugness dripping from his voice.

‘Yeah, I’m clos-so close’ you whimper, when you say this he starts fucking you harder so that you would fall over the edge even quicker as he was pretty close aswell, staring into your eyes as he does, which you found hot just in itself. ‘Cant even speak properly can you, am I fucking you that good angel’

‘Cock’s f-filling me up soo good’ you whimper. The only sound resonating in the room now were moans and the slapping of skin, you couldn’t control the sounds coming from your mouth and neither could he.

‘Holy shit, I’m gonna cum’

‘Me too angel, want you to cum with me, yeah’ he reaches his hand around from one of your thighs to toy with your clit, knowing that’s all you would need. ‘I’m cumming, oh my god’ you shout your back arcing once again, Harry kept thrusting into you at the same pace only intensified your release, and seconds later you feel his cock twitch inside you one last time before he’s releasing rope after rope of cum inside your warm walls, his face finding home in the crook of your neck as your pulsating walls milk his cock, his moans being muffled in your warm skin.

You could feel you body slipping slightly down the tiles, you limbs felt like jelly after being fucked soo good, he senses that your struggling to keep yourself up so he brings you into his chest and wraps his arms around you, his cock still buried deep inside you. You bring you arms to wrap even tighter around his neck, pressing sweet kisses along his jawline making him hum contently, ‘was that okay baby’ he murmurs into your wet hair ‘more than okay H’.

You stay like this for a few minutes, basking in each others warmth’s, this is disturbed when Harry reaches to turn the shower off, shivers now run up your spine the air around you suddenly becoming chilly. You realise Harry still hadn’t gone soft within you making you look up at him in slight shock ‘how are you still hard H’ he smirks at your question ‘cause I’m not done with you yet, told you the neighbours are probably going to put in a noise complaint by tomorrow morning’ he says making you bit your lip.

‘Bet you would love that wouldn’t you, letting everyone know who you belong to’ he say walking out the shower with you still on him and grabbing a towel, he pulls out of you before you stand up properly still being a little unsteady, the mixture of his cum and your juices had dripped down onto your thigh so he doesn’t hesitate to drop to his knees to clean you up, making you grab onto the counter so you wouldn’t fall over, once he is done he stands back up innocently looking up at you then grabbing the towel and quickly drying you both off like he hadn’t just had his face buried between your legs.

‘So baby, when do you want to fuck next, there’s our bedroom but I think I wanna doing it in the dining room first, fancy having you bent over the dining table for me’ you both look at each other with lust blown eyes before you practically pounce on each other once again, Harry obviously taking that as a yes.

From that point on you realise that you wouldn’t be getting a wink of sleep tonight even after a 9 hour flight, but even then not a single care crosses your mind.

[frostedfaves]

Repercussions (15)

Masterlist

Pairing: dark!Natasha Romanoff x dark!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha and Wanda search for their printsessa with the help of Tony.

Warnings: dark themes, gun use, blood mention, serious injury

A/N: am I devastated that this is the final part of one of my favorite things I’ve ever written? absolutely! but I’m also really happy with myself for being able to turn the images in my head for this ending into coherent words. I’ve been holding onto this idea for weeks and I’m ecstatic to see everyone’s response to it. I’ll be letting you know later on this week what’s coming next! 👀

Previous part

-

With Clint’s assistance, Natasha and Wanda were able to quickly create a plan and make their way to the last base, using the fear and anger of their girlfriend’s disappearance to barrel through anyone that stood in the way of intel collection. They wasted no time in waking everyone up when they returned to the safe house.

“Is there a security breach?” Steve questioned as the group gathered, and Natasha tossed the hard drive at him.

“We got everything, and we need to get back--”

“Oh, I get it,” Sam cut in with an eye roll. “They rushed through the mission to get back to their girlfriend so they can cuddle and all that cute shit--”

“She’s missing!” Wanda growled as her eyes began to glow, causing Sam to step back a few feet with wide eyes.

Everyone aside from Clint started asking questions all at once, and Natasha shut them all down with a stern command to be ready to fly out in ten minutes. Bags were packed and bodies were dressed as the team rushed to get to the jet, afraid of what might happen if they delayed the two women any longer.

“While we’re checking out the house, I need someone looking into Wesley L/N,” Natasha ordered, nodding as Tony volunteered and sending him all the information she had.

“Who is this, her brother?”

“Her cousin, if that’s even true--”

“It is, we checked the family history,” Wanda insisted, grabbing Natasha’s hand with a shaky breath. “They’re really close, he wouldn’t hurt her.”

“We don’t know that! Anyone can do something terrible if they’re pushed far enough--”

“Stop! Just fucking stop!” Wanda cried out as she covered her face with her hands, and Natasha moved to wrap her arms around her as she sat in the seat beside her.

“I’m sorry, Wan. I’m just worried and my brain is wired to go to the worst case scenario instantly.”

Wanda simply sniffled as tears started spilling down her cheeks again, leaning her head against Natasha’s shoulder as she accepted the comforting embrace. After a few minutes of silence between the pair, Wanda dropped her hands into her lap as she glanced at green eyes already absentmindedly staring at her, lowering her voice as she spoke.

“I want to ruin his mind before we kill him.”

-

The house felt empty and colder without your presence, every step on the carpeted floor of the front room seemed to echo around the building. Tears threatened to build in Wanda’s eyes again but she held them back, intent on believing that they will find you and bring you back where you belong. Only they could take care of what you needed.

A heavy feeling washed over their hearts when they entered your solo room and discovered some of your clothes and shoes were missing, along with the travel bag you’d first arrived with. The guest room Wesley resided in was also void of his presence, and anything that could clue them into where he’d taken you. 

“Tash, look.”

Natasha followed her gaze to the security room, cursing loudly in Russian when she noticed the door left wide open. She stormed inside, clenching her fist in anger when she noticed the tiny plastic baggie holding the miniscule tracker that was supposed to be in your leg right now.

“He’s a psychiatrist, not a fucking surgeon!” she fumed as she showed the object to Wanda. “How did he get this out?!”

Wanda walked around her to get to one of the computers, logging in as fast as her fingers would allow her to type and bringing up the security footage from the last several days. For the most part, the two of you acted normally, doing all the things you’d told them about like playing games and watching TV, but the sight of the two of you emerging from the TV room in the basement and entering the game room brought something to her attention.

“Did you see that?” She backed up the footage and switched over to slow motion. “She’s limping.”

“Isn’t that the day she hurt her leg in the backyard?”

“Yes, but…” The backyard footage is brought up next and skipped through until the moment of your ‘injury’. “This happened almost two hours later, meaning--”

“It was a cover for the tracker removal.” Natasha cursed once more as she released a frustrated sigh. “She’s getting locked in her room as soon as she gets back here.”

A notification similar to a phone ringing went off on one of the monitors, and the two women scurried over to answer the incoming call from Tony.

“Everything you had on this Wesley kid checks out, no criminal history or secret ties to any Hydra related groups, or anything else you have to worry about. However, I tried tracking and hacking into his phone and it seems to be wiped clean. So I got into his phone records with his cell company and his last call was made to an unsaved number connected to someone named Kendall, last known address in Nebraska.”

“Send it to us, please.”

They were on their feet as soon as the call ended, grabbing the mission bags abandoned in the doorway and heading off to their respective rooms to repack for the trip.

In nearly the same moment, you were in your safe house in Nebraska, rounding the corner to enter Wesley’s room. He knew something was wrong by the way your eyes watered and your shaky hand held onto the bugging device.

“They found us.” There was no questioning tone in his voice, but you answered with a nod anyway.

“Pack everything you brought and get out of here, drive toward the west coast until you run out of gas and hide wherever you stop.”

“What?! I can’t leave you here! They’ll just take you back and it’ll be worse than before.”

“I’ll be fine, Wes,” you assured him with a gentle squeeze of your hand over his. “I planned for this too, and if I know them as well as I think, I’ll be free to come find you.”

-

Wesley was packed and gone within the next hour, and you worked quickly to transform the space, make it seem as if you’d been the only one to reside in the home. Once that was set, you changed clothes and positioned yourself in an armchair against the wall in the front room, a gun resting in your lap. You didn’t move when a knock was heard on the front door that night, simply waited until the visitors got impatient and picked the lock to force their way in.

“You worried us, printsessa, disappearing like that,” Natasha addressed you in a chilling tone as the two of them stopped a few feet away from you. “And we’ll deal with that later, after you tell Wesley to come out so we can punish him first.”

“He’s not here,” you told her calmly. “His only job was to bring me here--”

“And take the tracker out of your leg, which we will be putting back,” Wanda interjected with a stern expression. “Now, you can either come with us to the car willingly or we’ll drag you.”

“I won’t be doing either of those things.” You stood slowly, lifting the gun to your temple as you went. “Your only choices are to leave me here and go back to the way your lives were before I came in, or you can let me die. If you take me again, I’ll just fight you every day until you wish you’d killed me yourself. No matter how you manipulate my mind, my true self will never love someone who wants to control me. I’ll tell you how much I hate you for ruining my life every second I’m able, and I’ll kill myself the moment I get the chance to do so.”

You noticed the glassy look in their eyes as they faced each other, and you knew they were having a silent conversation in their minds. Seconds felt like minutes as they seemed to discuss their options, eventually turning back to face you. Wanda was fully crying now, and Natasha seemed to be physically holding back her own emotional break.

“We always thought we’d be able to love and care for you until our dying days.” Her shaky voice filled the quiet room. “But we understand if you don’t want that, and we’re sorry that you’ll never be able to love anyone else.”

Before you had time to react, Natasha was pulling a gun out and aiming it at your heart, the sound of the shot echoing and triggering Wanda’s instant sobbing. Natasha was quick to pull her into her arms, facing her away from you as you tumbled to the ground, your own weapon sliding away as your free hand weakly pressed against the oversized sweatshirt that covered your wound.

The two women hurried out of the house as you began to choke and cough up blood, not able to stomach hearing or seeing anymore, and the sound of a car speeding off echoed throughout the neighborhood. Waiting another minute or two to be sure they left, you got up to walk off to the bathroom, wiping the fake blood off your palm the best you could. After slipping the bulletproof vest off your torso and washing your hands, you quickly rinsed your mouth and brushed your teeth to get rid of the red stains, lifting your head to look in the mirror with a smile when you were done.

You looked pretty good for a dead woman.

-

Tags: @littlegasps @nat-km-mh @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @imnotasuperhero @creepingwolfberry @emilyprentisswife @cherrieloco @bebe404 @seventeen0 @buckmesidewaysandcallmesteve @its-a-long-way-to-ba-sing-se @fayhar @becka107 @wannabe-fic-reader @beforeoursecrets @cosmicbrownies7 @messuhp @mjaudrey @sxphiaswitch @trikruismybitch @muted-stoneheart @multi-images @just-a-normalpersons @want-to-watch-it-burn @stop-drop-and-drumroll @stickystudentlightmug @pianogirl2121 @welcometothepeanutgallery @witchxaf @natashadeservedmore @sakurat123 @darkangelxoxo @haiiiloeee2

[fandom-collective-writers]

Bonding a Mate

Fandom: Ikémen Sengoku Suitor: Kenshin Uesugi Author: @otome-smut-queen Tags: Dubcon, ABO, smut, breeding, bondage, modern AU, NSFW, impregnation, Alpha/Omega

Mai wrinkled her nose as the stench of Alpha flooded the room. She had come to her friend’s bar to escape the coupling going off back at her house, though she was still doubtful that Hideyoshi even knew that she wasn’t in the house after causing a problem at work with her post-heat pheromones. Despite working for Nobunaga Oda for several years, she had been able to hide her true secondary nature from all of the high-level management she worked as a personal assistant to. Until the previous month when she had her first full-blown heat and had been unable to do anything except try to sate herself in bed. Now she was dealing with the usual bull that came with Alphas trying to tell her that she wasn’t capable at her job and she should just ‘settle down’ and let someone else have her job who could provide for their family that way. It made her angry. The only saving grace was the part where her boss didn’t care about her secondary gender. He only cared for the quality of her work, which only suffered when toxic Alpha managers would suddenly come up to the CEO and Director floor to tell Mai about why they should be dating. He had issued a company-wide directive that afternoon after she had been pinned in the corridor and intimidated, Mai was not to be approached unless they were willing to risk their jobs. It was likely to go unnoticed until Nobunaga fired someone for that reason, but she was glad her boss had faith in her still.

She groaned and necked back the remainder of her rum and coke. If the Alpha group were anything like those at her workplace, then she would be better off going home now.

Then Kanetsugu grabbed her hand, stopping her from leaving the bar. His silvery hair usually framed an icy pair of purple eyes, but he wasn’t looking at her with them for once. The bar dropped a few drops very swiftly, making her shiver before the sound of Kenshin’s footsteps broke the spell that Kanetsugu had weaved over her body’s inability to move. She swallowed nervously as Kenshin’s hand replaced Kanetsugu’s on her forearm. Then she was led down the bar, her arm lifted over the pumps and tills as the room watched the display of dominance silently. Mai didn’t dare to look over her shoulder as they reached the end of the bar, and the door to the employee-only area was opened by Kenshin. He scoffed loudly and pushed Mai through first. She caught a glimpse of a group of Alphas, probably the same group that she had smelled entering the bar, and they had been positioning themselves to make a move on her from their positions in the room. She swallowed nervously, looking up at her friend and waiting for the explanation. She trembled slightly, not because she was scared of Kenshin, but because she was so angry that strange Alphas thought they had the right to do as they pleased to her.

“I’m so weak, this is disgusting,” she scoffed, before Kenshin wrapped her up in his arms, stroking her hair out of her face.

“You need to be more aware of your surroundings. You smell of Omega right now,” he commented sharply, rubbing her back to help soothe her. He was also pumping out his scent, designed to calm down any distressed Omega and make them pliable to his commands. “I’m taking you back to my place. You’ll hold on tight to me on the back of my bike,” he instructed, already manoeuvring Mai through to the staff room where he picked up his motorcycle helmet and a spare one he kept at work for these occasions. Not that Mai thought anything of his actions, her body reacting like a puppet on strings as Kenshin gently pushed the helmet onto her head and helped secure it before the two were on the bike and speeding off through the city’s streets. The streetlamps twinkled as they zipped through the corners, Mai holding on firmly to Kenshins’ waist as he had told her to. She was only in jeans and a blouse since she hadn’t been able to get changed before escaping out of her house several hours before, but she melded herself to the Alpha to protect herself from falling off.

It had been a while since she had been at Kenshin’s apartment. A modern, top floor, two-bedroomed home with every gadget possible it seemed as Mai put the helmet down on the sideboard next to Kenshin’s. He watched her silently, waiting to see what she did while guarding the front door so there was no escape for her.

She stretched her arms out, rolling her shoulders to release the tension as she looked out over the Kyoto skyline. There was something beautiful and memorising about the scene as she gazed out of the window. Kenshin purposefully pumped out his scent, keeping her pliable as his arms slid around her from behind, holding her body against his. She groaned softly as his lips brushed her neck, her head tilting to the side to give him plenty of access. Her eyes fluttered shut as his lips kissed up to her jaw, a soft growl down her ear sending shivers down her spine as Kenshin felt her ass push back against his hips. He smirked to himself as he turned her head and claimed her lips possessively. Mai was completely at his mercy as the Alpha parted from her, ignoring her whines as he picked her up roughly and stormed through to his bedroom.

“Strip,” he grunted his command, pulling away from her only for long enough to check that he had locked the front door. He had been watching Mai carefully since they had reunited after her career brought her to Kyoto once she had completed university. He had kept every suitor away from her, and thankfully her stupid bosses had never made any attempt to woo her. But he had waited patiently enough, and now she was his as he came back into his room.

Her nervousness was adorable, she was down to her underwear as Kenshin quickly stripped, his clothes left in a trail from the door to the bed. He kissed her with a passion that threatened to burn them both, leaning over her and pulling open a drawer in his bedside table, purposely obscuring her view of it as he pulled out the restraints. He looped them through his headboard bars, one eye on the writhing Omega underneath him and the other on his hand that was keeping hold of her wrists before he had her locked in them.

Mai squeaked, tugging reactively on the material cuffs as she glanced up to see what Kenshin had done. Not that Kenshin minded, since it left her neck open to his markings. He groaned as the soft floral of cherry blossoms came from her scent glands, his cock throbbing and desperate to be touched as he continued to kiss down her skin.

He used raw strength to break through the centre of her bra, and then snapped the straps to toss the offensive item clear of the bed. Her confusion was cute as Kenshin took a nipple into his mouth, using his tongue and teeth to tease it into a hard peak, his mismatched eyes watching Mai’s expression change to one of bliss. Her hips rutted up, groaning as Kenshin’s nimble fingers slowly began to tease her clit through her panties. He smirked as she whined in frustration that he wasn’t touching her directly and chuckled softly.

“I told you to strip, and you didn’t get fully undressed, so this is your punishment,” he stated simply, before turning his attention to her neglected nipple. He used his tongue to roll it between his teeth, sucking and nibbling on her skin, as the pad of his middle finger circled against her clit, using the wet fabric to deny her what she really wanted. He knew that she was close to being open to anything he said, her secondary nature was taking control and leaving her free to his will. He needed her to say that she was his, to mark her up and to never leave as the blush on her cheeks started to darken.

“Kenshin, please, Alpha, I’m sorry,” she stuttered, the words falling out of her mouth as she pulled on the cuffs. Her hips rutted and writhed against the bedsheets, trying to work the offending item of clothing down. He kept her legs pinned under his body as her moaning increased in volume, it was getting harder to not just tear the panties off her as Kenshin weighed up the idea in his mind. No underwear would mean that Mai would need to wait in for him to get what she needed, it would mean that she couldn’t leave until the world knew that she belonged to him.

He couldn’t wait any longer, as he pulled so harshly on the fabric that it tore under the pressure, and left marks on her hips. He would apologise later and make her think it was unintentional. Mai was producing so much slick, she would be able to take him as he parted her legs. It was a view that he never wanted anyone else to see unless Kenshin was the one breeding her.

“Kenshin,” she whined, wriggling underneath him. It was cute, she was trying to flip herself over to present for him like a good little Omega would do. He would have to try that position next time as he smiled down at her, her breasts now shiny with his spit and the desperation evident on her face before he thrust his whole length into her core in one swift motion. Mai cried out in delight, her pussy filled with Alpha cock, and a nice thick one at that, this was meant to be her position in life. Kenshin knew that he needed to put his pups in her as he rocked his hips swiftly against hers. He needed to breed her as her neck was bared to him, his hands pinning her legs back to her torso as he started to slam harder and faster into her. The way she squeaked and moaned was addictive, it was cute how she babbled about needing to cum, he knew that his knot was starting to bloom before he growled possessively and sunk his teeth into the crook of her neck.

It was a white-hot ecstasy that exploded inside of him. His teeth pierced her skin at the same time that his knot popped inside of her core, Mai’s screams of pleasure threatening to bring the apartment block down while she spasmed around his cock as it poured his cum into her. He had slid an arm around her back to hold her close to him as they rode out their mutual climax. His tongue lapping at the freshly laid mating mark over her scent glands on her neck, his Alpha nearly content to bask in the afterglow. He nudged her face towards his glands, nipping at her tender skin as a hint before Mai returned the favour. They would be locked together for a little while, his cock was keen to keep her pussy full of cum for the moment as Kenshin kissed Mai on the temple.

He could hear her brain starting to clear and work out what was happening.

“Shhh,” he soothed, pumping out his scent to keep her placid. “I’m looking after you now. There’s nothing for you to worry about, you’ll be kept with me, just nice and pregnant with my pups, doesn’t that sound so nice? Nothing to worry about and no other Alphas to run from,” he purred as her brain slipped back into Omega mode, accepting the affection from her new mate. He’d get her to comply easily enough, she was safe now with him.

[anntoldst0ries]

shinrin-yoku (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr Noelle Valentine) Word Count/Rating: ~1.7k, PG Summary: When life's difficulties hit, Noelle navigates her way through them by turning to the nature. Category: Hurt & Comfort Warnings: mentions of trauma

A/N: May is a Mental Health Awareness month and here in the UK the theme is nature. My MC, just like me, runs to the woods when things get tough. It helps her clear her head and reconnect with inner strength.

I struggle with mental health myself and it’s important for me to speak up and address the subject. There is nothing worse than shaming or discrediting someone’s difficult feelings. It’s fine not to be fine.

If you struggle alone, please don’t. My inbox will welcome you with open arms. Two heads are better than one, even if we just complain, at least we can complain together 💜

For @choicesmaychallenge2021 Day 13 - Mental Health

SHINRIN-YOKU - A Japanese term for ‘forest bathing’ or the sense of well-being you experience while in nature.

~~

It all starts with a seed. This tiny element which, without aid, is sentenced to certain death. But give it the right soil. Give it water, sun. And it can grow. Into something big. Powerful. Scary.

~~

She is five years old.

They live in a townhouse, a classy Victorian era building. Undistinguished, one of many merging into the background of a typical London street. The colors are also very standard,  dirty white married to ivory beige, bar for the deep green door - their rebel child.

For the random passerby, it’s nothing special. But for her, the walls of a storey house encapsulate the whole world.

The garden behind the house is neat and clean, visibly well taken care of. She doesn’t remember exact details anymore, but she remembers begging her parents to go camping in the garden with her brother. The ticklish feeling of long and slim blades of grass on her tiny feet. Looking at the stars with pure awe and delight, that only the unspoiled mind of a child is capable of.

The plot of land that the house has been built on borders a beautiful forest. A wooden fence separates the two.

To her, it’s a passage to a magical world.

A world without any particular order, living its own life, unconstricted by rules. Not in the slightest does it resemble the garden on her side of the fence, where things grow according to the rules laid out by the adults.

There is a feeling inside her that she’s too young to name, to throw it in lingual context. It’s not until years later that she realized what it had been. Freedom. To grow however you please. To be what you want to be.

Robust, effuse trees tower over her, making her feel so small. As if she hasn’t already been feeling small enough, living in a world full of giants.

But they mean something else too. They bring a secret and a promise. Promise of a bigger world out there, far from the confines of the place she calls home.

The forest draws her, singing a melody that only her heart can understand. One day, she will be a part of it.

~~

She lives the teenage dream life.

That’s what everyone says.

She doesn’t have any real problems. She’s lucky not having to worry about money. She’s got friends. Her family is great. She just needs to stop whining. Her life is perfect.

Their words, not hers.

None of them know what happens behind closed doors.

The childhood forest is a cloudy memory. Her home is now thousands of miles away, in a city with a giant red bridge, which for some bizarre reason has ‘golden’ in its name.

But the call from nature doesn’t care about distance. It can find you about anywhere. It’s different and yet the same.

Because nature beats in one rhythm and speaks in the same language, everywhere.

The morning is chilly and humid. She’s wearing a wooly coat, carelessly threw on a pair of PJs hiding underneath.

Her steps are brisk, breathing short and heartbeat elevated. Something’s bothering her blanched face.

The voice, again.

When it first appeared, she thought it had her best interest at heart. Used to give her advice and like a good friend, ream her out when she did something bad.

Over time, things took a turn for the worse.

Snarky comments. Casually mentioned wrongdoings. Feedback on what she could have done better, differently.

Noelle hoped the voice would go away on its own.

It hasn’t.

Not only did the voice not go away, but it was actually growing stronger with each passing day. Became more vocal. Judgmental. Openly hostile.

It fed on her fears.

It’s your fault - it told her - that your parents are getting divorced.

You are not good enough.

Even a lie, repeated enough times, will finally become the truth. And so it did for her, to the point where she couldn’t distinguish her own voice from the voice of the tormentor. Sounds faded into one.

Whoever said words can cut like a knife was right. But those who knew thoughts could leave scars that are much deeper, were truly wise.

The young, beautiful girl who never hurt a soul, became a hostage. A prisoner locked in the jail of her own head.

A giant tear rolled down her face. Made of all the words her heart couldn’t say.

She hugged the tree tightly and inhaled the woodsy aroma, the scent filling her lungs fully.

It’s sensuous.

Just like that, she is small again.

~

She’s got all that she ever wanted.

Degree from one of the best medical schools. Graduating with honors and glowing recommendations from even the strictest professors, who kept assuring her that her future in medicine is so bright it’s actually blinding. Then, a dreamy residency in one of the most prestigious hospitals in the country.

Pretty impressive, right? Even a fool could see that. But the only fool whose opinion she cared about, couldn’t. All these things were clearly not good enough for Ethan Ramsey to stay.

She wasn’t good enough for him to stay.

Not longer than a year ago he was just a concept, an ideal without a face, body and voice. To her, he was a celebrity, a hero, someone whom mortals don’t have access to.

It was preposterous to consider for even a second Dr Ramsey could actually see something in an intern.

Standing among the moss-covered trees, every fiber of her being was filled with the thought of him.

Did the Amazonian forest remind him of her, just like every forest around reminded her of him?

Just when she won the battle for her career, she lost another. Because life had to be a zero-sum game.

As painful as that would have been, she wished she had something to hold onto. A scene she could replay in her mind. An image of him walking away. Or saying goodbye.

But he left without a word.

That was the pattern. That was history repeating itself.

She took her shoes off and stepped on the soil frosted with morning dew. It’s cold and wet. It’s refreshing. She is grounding. Reconnecting with Earth.

Tunes in with the rivers of grass, towers of trees, fences of bushes.

If the trees could speak, they’d tell stories not many people would believe in.

Tales of heartbreaks. Parables of spirits.

They are all nature’s poems.

Hauntingly beautiful. Riveting. Written without a single word.

Because nature speaks its very own language that only the soul, not the mind, can understand.

Pain is ripping her apart. But it reminds her that she’s alive. And this, in itself, is a miracle.

~~

She doesn’t know who she is anymore.

Some people call her a survivor. But it doesn’t feel like the right word. So many things in her died. So much was lost.

The attack took a lot from her. Danny. Bobby. Sense of security. Identity. Direction.

Right and wrong, good and bad, righteous and vicious. These are all just words. Someone needs to come and teach her the meaning of them anew. Draw lines, mark out frontiers. Save her from herself.

The ground is soaked. Torrential rain turned the soil into soft mud, warm and easily slipping through her fingers. She falls on her knees, praying for the ground to consume her.

Fill every part of her. Silence the internal cacophony. To sink into oblivion.

Not many people knew about the panic attacks and recurring nightmares. They’re always the same.

She’s standing in the middle of a swamp. Danny and Bobby are drowning, their arms reaching out for her. She knows she can only save one of them. She runs out of time trying to figure out how to save both. As a result, they both die. Time stands still and yet everything is spinning, moving, racing. The reality is a riot of overbright colours.

Suddenly, a ring breaks the silence. A polyphonic intruder. She looks at the screen through hooded eyes and notices the caller’s name. It’s him. He’s petrified. Worried to death. Asks her to stay where she is.

Some time later, maybe 10 minutes, maybe an hour - who knows? - he emerges from the gathering of stocky oaks.

The moment he catches the sight of her, he starts running. She notices a lab coat underneath the jacket. He’s soaking wet.

Even though he is so close, he doesn’t slow down. Crashing into her, he scoops her in his arms. Catches her in the tightest of embraces.

Asks her if she’s fine. No. Not that question again. She’s tired of people fussing over her and gets angry.

Had it not been for the attack, would he even be here? The voice asks mockingly. It doesn’t matter to her. He’s there now.

Deep baritone is gentle and full of concern. It’s not like that. It’s not his intention to fuss. He’s simply worried. Because she is the most important thing to him in the whole world. Yes, he wasted so much time. That’s why he refuses to lose even one more second.

A dam breaks within her. Eliciting a quiet sob. She clutches his shirt, holds onto him for dear life. Moments later, she’s screaming at the top of her lungs. Singing her poignant birdsong.

How is she supposed to cope? Will things ever go back to normal? What is normal anyway?

In the confines of the infamous patient room she never felt more scared in her life. But here, out in the open, she feels so safe. As if she’s had a silent agreement with nature, which vouched to protect her at all costs.

And this time, nature had an ally. Because Ethan will protect her, even if it’s the last thing he does. Holding onto each other, they stand in the nothingness.

It keeps them grounded. Connected to their roots. Turning over new leaves. Bending before they break. Growing.

They get lost. Mother Nature has a reward for those who do. They have a chance to find themselves. Over and over again.

~~~

If you made it this far - thank you & you're awesome 🥰

Tag list: @genevievemd @gryffindordaughterofathena @terrm9@starrystarrytrouble @the-pale-goddess @jamespotterthefirst @lisha1valecha @writer-ish @maurine07 @drakewalkerfantasy@iemcpbchoices @liaromancewriter @lem-20 @lucy-268 @oldminniemcg @queencarb @qrkowna @mercury84choices @lsvdw-blog @utterlyinevitable @stygianflood @udishaman @romewritingshop @romereadingshop @alina-yol-ramsey @stateofgracious @xxsugarplumfluffsxx @binny1985 @tsrookie @fayeswiftie @archxxronrookie @tinkertailorsoldierspy @schnitzelbutterfingers @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @theinvisibledreamergirl @custaroonie @irisofpurple @chasingrobbie @ethandaddyramseyx @quixoticdreamer16 @coffeeheartaddict @takemyopenheart @aworldoffandoms @potionsprefect @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[feralnumberfive]

The Rewatch Academy: Episode 4 of Season 1

“Man on the Moon”

I am in no way a good analyst so my little analysis and speculations probably sound a bit goofy or pretty wild and probably mean nothing at all. Everything I put into this post about each episode is purely what I noticed or thought, whether it’s funny or serious. I will be making jokes, so please just leave it at that (in no way am I trying to make fun of an actor and or character!) I am also in no way saying I noticed this stuff first. This is just what I noticed while rewatching these episodes

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

1x01 | 1x02 | 1x03 |

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

☂ So at that point Luther had already been alone for about five years (due to his siblings leaving when they were 18 or even 17 according to Diego), and by alone I mean he did’t have his siblings with him. I’m not counting Reginald, Grace, or Pogo because I’d imagine they weren’t the best company. There was a two year gap between Luther getting the serum and then being sent to the moon. He had already been “alone” for five years before he was sent away to be completely alone for four years. He hasn’t had really any social/outside interaction besides going on missions for almost ten years, which means Luther is an awkward dude and he hasn’t been a true leader because he hasn’t had anyone to lead. I don’t think people really realize this and I think that’s where some of the hate towards him comes from 

☂ We see that Luther looks into Allison’s and Klaus’s bedrooms as he makes his way down the hall, and I’m willing to bet he did that for all of his siblings. Makes me wonder how many times the siblings went to Five’s room to visit it or to even check with hope that he had come back  

☂ I wish I could ride my bike around my house and chug a gallon of milk :[

☂ I can’t believe that Reginald still made him wear that leather battle suit 💀

☂ Why are there posters of animal anatomy in the infirmary?

☂ Apparently it takes between two to four months to grow a full beard, so that’s  about how long Luther had been lying there

☂ *suffers through the Allison and Luther scene*

☂ “HoPe I wAsN’t BeInG tOo LoUd”

☂ Vanya and Leonard were really sweet in the beginning. Screw you Leonard

☂ It’s really sad that not one his siblings notice that Klaus is gone. Not. One. 

☂ Are you telling me that Klaus and Five are certified freaks? At least I’m sure that’s who Cha Cha is referring to, or maybe it’s Luther

☂ I tried looking up tortures in Trinidad to see if Cha Cha was referring to any specific event, but I think it’s just a random thing in the show

☂ It’s only when Diego mutters “The boy” that it reminds him either of Five’s superhero name “The Boy” or his new appearance as a teen again so it finally clicks in his head that that’s who the mystery kid is

☂ Diego admitting that he doesn’t really know how to process his feelings!

☂ He’s very protective of his family and that’s something that I love about Diego. He doesn’t know who Hazel and Cha Cha are but all he knows is that they are searching for Five for some reason and that his siblings almost got killed last night

☂ Five doesn't realize the suffering that he’s putting his family through at this point since he’s only focused on finding who’s responsible for the end of the world. It’s ironic that he’s doing all of this to keep them alive and safe and yet him not being with them almost got them killed. Five buddy, you should have included all of your siblings from the start no matter how much they annoy you

☂ Also where has Five been this entire time? He left the van at night and now it’s the next morning. He’s been following the guy but why did it take him so long to corner him?

☂ Ope, and there’s a continuation error! When Luther takes his arm out of Five’s dresser, he takes part of the wood panel with him. When it cuts back to Diego talking there’s just a fist size hole

☂ “We barely got out with our lives.” Okay but where were you, Pogo?

☂ It’s funny how quickly they revert to child-like shame when Pogo scolds them. At least they still respect him I guess

☂ Is Hazel eating potato chips with ketchup? 

☂ I think one reason why nobody notices that Klaus is gone is because none of them saw him that night during the attack. They possibly assumed he already had left the Academy??

☂ Looooove the “Shingaling” scene. They are straight up vibing

☂ I don’t know why Luther was frustrated with the van door being locked. It’s not like he could rip the door off or anything.......

☂ I have a two questions here:

Why did Diego know where to find Five based off of the book? Sure he saw that it came from the library, but that doesn’t mean that he’ll be there

Wouldn’t Luther and Diego have seen the smoke coming from the Meritech building? Unless they left immediately and weren’t able to see the smoke even though they probably were still in the vicinity when it began to burn

☂ Five is holding the man’s arm to make sure that he doesn’t get away (hard to tell in the pic below though). He needs that sense of security that this lead isn’t going to escape his grasp, but I’m sure that if he were to run he wouldn’t get far when you can just teleport after him

☂ I got a nice pic of Five (also the dude on the bike that was riding behind Five as he runs up in this shot just does not care that this building is on fire) 

☂ When it shows Five on the ground, it at first starts off with light and slightly comedic music before it quickly switches over to something dramatic. I always thought it was funny that they play the light stuff as we see Five just laying there 💀

☂ You can see just how quickly Five’s face changes from shock to disbelief and disappointment as his only lead is literally blown away from him look, you can pinpoint the exact moment his heart breaks. Also Five definitely would have had hearing issues since we can see that the windows on the building behind him were shattered. He’s staring into your soul....

☂ There’s nothing really significant about this at all, but Whippets are racing dogs and in the comics Five goes to watch a dog race at one point

☂ “I hate sprinkles.” Hey, me too!

☂ I love that Griddy’s is still open despite the damage that was done to it

☂ Diego left home at 17 (which is illegal so I wonder if he was emancipated or maybe Diego ran away and Reginald didn’t care to look for him) so I wonder if the others left when they were 17 too or if they waited until they were 18 

☂ Luther I don’t really think you’re one to talk about being “grown up” my guy. In fairness none of the Umbrellas know how to be fully functioning adults, not even Five who’s about twice the age of his siblings and is almost a senior citizen

☂ “I stayed because the world needed me.” Hey that was basically Five’s reason too, but more so for getting to see his family again. Anyways, like brother, like, uh, brother! 

☂ "And things are never gonna go back to the way they used to be.” You sir just predicted the next week(s) (and technically years in the 60s) of your life and the lives of your siblings! This also applies for what happens after those weeks/years, but we haven’t gotten there yet but it’s certainly not the way things used to be!  

☂ How was Luther upset enough that he wanted Diego to stop talking after he said something genuine and a bit sad?

☂ This whole relationship talk isn’t exactly relatable......

☂ He’s just chillin’

☂ Reginald can ✨perish✨ Oh wait, he already did 

☂ Here I am taking any little scrap and running with it, but when Five says he’s going through puberty twice does that mean that he didn’t get his aging altered by The Commission? In the comics, Temps Aeternalis/Commission stopped Five’s aging but here it sounds like that didn’t happen. Since we haven’t heard anything about Five’s DNA in the tv show we don’t really know much about his aging alteration either. I think that they really do have to leave that part out due to Aidan himself, who is a growing teen, and for the fact that they would need to come up with an excuse for Five’s aging (Aidan already looks different in S2 and he’s taller too). I wish they would bring this stuff up in the show!

☂ Five deflects answering the question of what he’s the best at most likely just because he’s just distracted but also possibly because he doesn’t want his brothers to know at this point

☂ First the feral chimp smile and now this

☂ Five actually sounded serious when he was talking about how many people he has killed and how he’s the ”Four frickin’ Horsemen” which is more so an exaggeration but it still shows us that he views himself as dangerous and powerful. He revealed this to them while he was drunk, even though they don’t really understand, but I wonder if Five ever actually planned on telling his siblings what he did and how much blood he has on his hands. I feel like he would have told them after he had saved the world from the apocalypse, but yet again I could also see him brushing off questions in relation to what he just said to Luther and Diego to hide his past from his family

☂ ✨”Little Psycho”✨

☂ As eerie as all of those ghosts are, it’s a really neat scene

☂ It’s not really meant to be funny, but Klaus denying the duct tape just reminds me of a little kid refusing to go into timeout 

☂ I guess Cha Cha got out through the door next to the bathroom when Klaus was banging his head on the table?

☂ It’s a shame that Patch died right away, I really liked her

☂ Klaus, where you’re going really isn’t any better 

☂ It’s sweet that Diego puts Delores down gently and doesn’t just toss her somewhere. Even though she’s a mannequin, Diego knows that she means something to Five

☂ Well Luther I think it’s pretty self-explanatory what he meant. You just need more context 

☂ Diego: *signaling that someone, possibly a threat, is approaching and to be alert*

Luther: 🕴👁`👄’👁

☂ Even if they did think that Klaus had left the Academy before Hazel and Cha Cha attacked it, it’s sad that it took them this long to think about him

☂ Luther patting Delores is so cute

☂ Say it with me kids, “Patch deserved so much better!”

☂ My heart breaks to see Diego so heartbroken and upset, especially when he says “I gotta go, okay? I can’t be here when they come, okay?” Ugh, that gets me

☂☂☂☂☂☂☂

Feel free to comment or reblog with things you have noticed too!

[jeogiyall]

Growing Pains; Song Mingi

Word count; 21.5k

Genre; Mingi X Reader, Hongjoong X Reader, Childhood Best Friends to Lovers, College AU, Angst, Fluff but Barely

Request: “ hey can I please request a college au with #11 and #17 with mingi from ateez! can it also be long and really angsty but with a comforting ending?? love your work by the way ❤ “

Additional; Featured Ateez, Rebound Hongjoong

Warnings; General Angst, Depicts Depression, Honestly Just Really Sad lol

A/N; this took me so freaking long to write, i’m really sorry to whoever requested it dhkdsfsdaf!! i hope you enjoy it! i haven’t been to college yet so this is all based off of books i’ve read or stories that i’ve been told. if anything is inaccurate i’m sorry, i’ll be learning about really soon lol. if you you like this fic please leave a like or some kind words! love you all, happy reading!

It was a summer day when the local neighborhood bullies pushed you off of your barbie themed bike for the umpteenth time. You remember scraping your knee, dropping your strawberry ice cream cone, then seeing the older boys approach you with malicious grins. But before they could fully reach you there was someone else, someone with limbs that were a bit too long and knees that were raw like yours. Any other day you would’ve found it unbelievably embarrassing that this bozo thinks he can handle this situation any better than you. As if you haven’t been handling this for years. 

But with him it was different. He somehow scared off the crude boys, then offered his hand to hoist you from the pavement while looking sadly at your discarded ice cream cone.

“I’m sorry about your ice cream.” You remember his voice being creaky, like it was always about to break (which it did, frequently,) “I’ll make you some whenever it snows! Th-that’s the only way that I know how to make it, but it’s really good I promise!” He was excited, almost like a puppy. Some part of you thought that it was cute, the bigger part knew he was probably just pitying you. Pitying you the same way that everyone does when you tell them of your constant bullying, only to forget about it in a week and leave you to the wolves. 

“Oh it’s okay, um…”

“Mingi.”

“Mingi!” You repeated the syllables, allowing their taste to form on your tongue. It’s sweet, like an orange soda and going to bed too late, “It’s okay Mingi, you don’t have to pretend like it matters.” Where you thought that his features would fade into relief they pull taught with sadness. He almost looked offended.

“You’re (Y/n,) right?” You nod shortly, eyes welling with tears for no apparent reason, “I-I’m not pretending. It matters.” Something about the way he gazes at you makes you think he’s been wanting to say that for a long time. 

“N-not really, they’re just mean sometimes. Besides, even if it did matter no one can stop it. No one’s ever stopped it.” It felt like you’d crossed a line. Cut the cake before you were supposed to, put out words you were meant to swallow down. Tears were really about to start falling, until Mingi took your skinned palms into his own larger ones. The clench of familiarity in your chest is enough to snuff out the stinging.

“I’ll stop it. I’ll do everything in my power to stop it.” He rubbed his thumb over the top of your hand, and it felt so nice. The gentle touch of someone who could be a friend. The notion that someone wanted you. It felt so nice and foreign and familiar all at once. So you nodded.

“Okay.” He squeezed your hand excitedly then surged forward, but stopped just before his arms could take home on your shoulders. You notice that he smells nice, like oranges and cinnamon.

“Can I hug you?” And just like that he’s made his way into the walls that you’ve already managed to build up.

“Okay.”

The boy holds true to his promise when two weeks later the boys approach you in the hallway, all cheery smiles and cold eyes. It’s a common exchange, they show up and tell you that you look nice today or some other fake compliment before demanding that you give them all of your lunch money. Which sounds stupid, until it’s two in the afternoon and you haven’t eaten all day and you won’t get to for another half hour.

But before anything can happen, Mingi is at your side and talking about his advanced math class. You watch as the boys slowly disperse at your friends silly rambling until it’s just the two of you. A deep breath floods your lungs as he softly punches your bicep in a way that’s starting to feel normal.

“Told you so. Do you want to come over for ice cream after school?” It’s silly how the words fill you with warmth, but you don’t even care. Because what you have here is so secure, and you know that it always will be.

And it always is. Mingi’s friendship is solid throughout your entire life, even when you started high school and nearly everything was shaky. Even when he grew out of the awkward limbs and squeaky voice, and all of the girls at your school wanted his attention. Day after day, Mingi would reject their proposals with a simple “I’m busy,” when the truth of the matter was that he would be sitting with you. Alone. In his basement, watching Star Wars on VHS tapes while eating strawberry ice cream and popcorn.

You remember turning to him one night, eyes drinking in the sight of his side profile illuminated by an exploding death star. He smiled widely, clapping his hands the way that he always does at that part. A deep sigh resounded through your chest, causing the boy to look at you with furrowed brows. For what must have been the millionth time, your eyes locked with his. Words weren’t even necessary for comfort.

“Why did you want to be friends with me? No one has ever cared about me too much, so why did you? I didn’t have anyone, why did you want to be my someone?” Your question sounds small, voice wavering gently.

“Maybe I needed someone too.” The response was so quick. Like he had pondered it before. As if he knew every doubt that you were having, and knew that you didn’t need to have them. 

From that night on, Mingi was more than your best friend. More than someone who you spent everyday with. No, he became your partner in almost everything. He took you to the school dance, stood beside you at every sports game, spent long nights trying to decipher math problems. No one was surprised when you two started applying to the same colleges, you weren’t even sure that you’d survive living without him. Judging by the pattering of his heart each time you entered a room, Mingi thought so too.

Over the years of close proximity and healthy doses of codependency, Mingi’s feelings towards you had progressed slightly past friendship. Not that he didn’t still think of you in that way, obviously. It’s just that whenever you fell asleep on his chest halfway through star wars marathons he’d have to will his heart to beat a tiny bit slower, or when his family brought you along to the beach he had to remind himself that it was rude to stare. The shift in his feelings started about three months into your sophomore year together, while stuffing your face with greasy fast food burgers after a wildly unimpressive football game. Neither of you ever cared about school sports too much, yet you were present every single week. When Mingi asked why, you claimed it was to get him out of the house. He’s pretty sure it was so that you’d have an excuse to get burgers afterwards, though. 

The boy distinctly remembers looking up over his boat of fries to see you with full cheeks, one strand of hair sticking to your slightly sweaty forehead. He remembers the bustling sounds of the diner going silent as his eyes drank in the sight of you for what felt like the first time ever. He remembers thinking that he wouldn’t know how to live life if it weren’t for you. Thinking that life wouldn’t be worth living if it weren’t for you.

“What?” You had questioned, nearly spitting out bits of cheeseburger onto your friends fries. If Mingi wasn’t so infatuated in that moment, he would have been disgusted. 

“You’re gross.” He laughed, one hand moving to nudge your shoulder. From that moment on, Mingi thought of you as just a little bit more than a friend. Just a little bit more than a movie marathon partner, just a little bit more than someone to spend late nights with. A little bit more than someone who helped move you into a college dorm, too. 

“Who on this forsaken earth thought that loft beds were a good idea?” You heave, flinging yourself onto the elevated mattress. It’s far from comfortable, and you’ve had to carry countless boxes up two flights of stairs due to the lack of an elevator, and the hallway smells distinctly of burnt microwave popcorn, but you have never in your life felt more free. High school was absolute torture, and while you did have Mingi to lean on you were still terribly lonely for those four years. Every other girl had a group to sit with, or someone to drag along to the bathroom with them in the middle of class. Having only one friend typically meant having absolutely no classes with them. 

But you’re here now, hundreds of miles away from the tattered building where you used to go to school. The only person on the entire campus that even knows your name at this point is Mingi, which in turn means he’s the only person that knows about your habit of loneliness. You intend to keep it that way, too. Every shy kid hears it from their parents, ‘College will be so good for you,’ ‘You’re really gonna come out of your shell in college,’ but those words meant more to you than an empty promise. In the last few months when you were so terribly lonely that all you had was Mingi and writing until your fingertips fell off, those words were your lifeline.

“Probably someone that didn’t get enough hugs as a kid.” Your friend responds while dropping the final box, which is filled with nothing but fuzzy sock, onto the pile that’s accumulating on the desk that’s squeezed under your cursed bed, “Looks like the last of it.” You nod, cheek brushing gently against the uncovered mattress. It creaks loudly when you shift, which is something you’re sure that you’ll never get used to.

“Are you sure that you don’t want help unpacking?” You barely look up while asking the question, nuzzling even closer into the awful bed. It takes a certain level of shamelessness to sleep on a fully uncovered mattress while a random stranger could walk in and drop all of their stuff on the floor, but you swear to the stars that you’re about there. Mingi appears to be the same way, taking to resting against your yet-to-arrive roommates desk.

“Yea I’m sure, my roommate’s this absolute giant, Yunho I think? He promised to help, so I’m all good.” A hollow laugh leaves your throat, aching with sleepiness. Mingi’s eyes soften ever so slightly before casting to your dirty tile floor.

 “Sounds nice.” There’s a nod, then a groan, then shuffling on everyone's part before Mingi is standing in your doorway and casting a soft gaze to your sleepy form.

“I’ll see you at dinner tonight.” A low humph resounds as your answer, but Mingi knows there’s no weight. You’re going to lay on that loft bed, sleeping like a rock until someone bothers to wake you up.

The someone just so happens to be Mingi, five hours later in a fresh hoodie that has your universities name embroidered across the chest. First you notice the perfectly made bed across the room, then the lack of another girl, then the scrent of oranges mixed with cinnamon, then finally Mingi nudging your shoulder from the ground while holding a Styrofoam bowl of hot food. 

“D-did I miss dinner?” Your eyes squint harshly, the way they always do when someone’s just woken you up. 

“Yea.”

“Sorry.” Mingis heart clenches tightly at your slurred speech, then again at your fluttering eyelids.

“S’okay, I brought you food.” His voice sounds warm, low. Like the Mingi that you’ve always known. You sit up and accept the to go bowl he’s passing up before patting the empty spot next to you. Within seconds the boy is next to you and offering utensils along with his arm around your shoulder, “It’s ramen.”

“Really?” The boy nods, fluffy brown hair falling onto his forehead as you excitedly rip the lid off. The smell of spicy ramen wafts through your otherwise empty dorm, and while it’s not the same as what Mingis mom would make from scratch on Winter days it still fills your belly with an immeasurable warmth, “Have I ever mentioned that you’re my favorite person?” Your shoulders relax thanks to a mouthful of slick curly noodles, Mingi can feel each individual muscle give way beneath his touch.

“Once or twice.” 

The two of you spend that night curled up on your bed sharing bites of the warm soup, and even once it’s done and the bowl is disposed of it still feels like old times. His arm is resting around you, the conversation is happening effortlessly, laughter is bouncing from every last tile. It doesn’t exactly fit in with your ‘new school, new me’  narrative, but that’s okay. You can always spend one night in comfort seeing as the following nights will be spent doing thousands of things out of your comfort zone.

When the time comes for him to walk back to his own dorm building, it’s well past dark outside, your clock ticking dangerously close to midnight from its perch on the (useless) nightstand. The boy hugs you in the doorway, making you pinky promise to not sleep through lunch tomorrow. 

“I won’t, I promise! Please don’t tell me that I left you sitting alone!” He exhales a short laugh at your furrowing eyebrows, his hand taking home on your shoulder in an attempt to squeeze out your tension.

“Not at all, Yunho has like a ton of friends. They’re funny, too.” 

“Really?” Mingi squeezes your shoulder one last before nodding. 

“Really.” 

He walks home in silence, the beginnings of an Autumn breeze kissing his cheeks. Upon arriving at the dorm Yunho spins around in his desk chair, smirking at the younger boy as if he knows something that Mingi doesn’t. 

“Where’d you go after dinner? We were gonna invite you to Wooyoung and Sans apartment.” Yunho leans back in the chair, it’s legs teetering precariously in a way that would debilitate elementary teachers.

“Oh, thanks! Maybe next time, I had to check on a friend.” Yunho quirks an eyebrow as Mingi begins to climb into his bed, kicking his shoes off at the base of the wobbly ladder.

“A girlfriend?” The question should be shocking, Yunho doesn’t even know that you exist for crying out loud, but he is so used to it. After being your best friend and caring for you as deeply as he does, he is so used to it.

“Nope, why do you ask.” The older boy simply shrugs, grounding his chair and picking up a stubby pencil. 

“Just an inkling. Lots of girls came up to you in line, you seemed less than interested.” Mingi ponders his response, because what do you even say to that? He doesn’t have a girlfriend, he’s not interested in anyone, he only has you to worry about. You, with your laugh that defines his childhood. You, with eyes that shoot wide anytime you’re worried about accidentally offending someone. You, who wants to make a new person in the coming year; and you, who Mingi wants to convince that you don’t have to change.

“Nope, she’s just a friend.” He decides, the words falling flat in the cramped room.

“Whatever you say.” 

Mingi lays sleeplessly in his bed for hours, his head pounding with the thought of how hard your connection with him is becoming. He loves you in more ways than one, but he doesn’t love the ache in his chest whenever he has to leave you. He doesn’t love that way that the weight of your touch haunts him for days, when for you it’s probably just something easy and meaningless. He doesn’t love being less to you than you are to him. 

But he does love you, in a way that’s impenetrable and everlasting. That alone is almost enough to make everything worthwhile. Almost.

*

It turns out the whole ‘new school new me’ thing is much harder than you previously anticipated. Naïve senior you thought that maybe you could meet new people through your roommate, but that didn’t exactly work out. It’s been two weeks and all you know about her is that she’s a junior, and that she really doesn’t want to be staying in a dorm. 

So, that’s obviously not going the way that you’d hoped. There is another person though, and he’s been a great help in meeting new people. He is a roommate, ironically enough. Just not your own.

Jeong Yunho, sophomore, fading blue hair, cheeks that look like freshly baked bread, brown eyes that sparkle a little bit when you ask about his major (biology, which is something that you know far too much about after a brief stop by Mingis dorm,) and a head that hits damn near every doorway it passes through. He has to duck to get into the cafeteria. But he’s sweet, like the guy who you could ask for help with homework. And he has so many friends, who are all terribly boisterous, that just eating lunch is like going out of your comfort zone.

Which is enough for you, but apparently not Mingi.

It’s a classic Friday night marathon, you already cuddled up on your bed with Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire pulled up on your laptop. The only thing left to accomplish is getting Mingi next to you and watching the movies, but that doesn’t seem to be the plan that your friend has. When he opens the door to your dorm you immediately notice the lack of Harry Potter pajama pants and popcorn. Instead he’s opted for movie night chic, with jeans that have something written on the left thigh and a white t-shirt that hangs off his lithe torso. His caramel brown hair is pushed back in a way that you’re not used to seeing, but it looks good. Attractive, even. There’s something about seeing him all dressed up and handsome while you’re in measly shorts and a platform 9 3/4 t-shirt that makes your cheeks go hot.

“I didn’t tell you before because I knew that you would say no, but Hongjoong and Seonghwa are having a party tonight and we’re going. Surprise!” Your mouth drops open at Mingi’s form of greeting. Before you can even process what’s been said he’s shaking the rail of your loft bed and chanting ‘Get up! Get up!’ 

“What about Harry Potter night?” You question dumbly while shimmying down your ladder. Obviously Harry Potter night has been discarded in favor of a house party, you don’t need Mingi to say anything to gather that much information, “Seonghwa is okay with a party in their apartment?” Mingi laughs gently, a soft shake of his shoulders and glittering eyes. It’s the only familiar thing about your interaction thus far. 

“The boys said that it’ll hardly be a party, probably too few people and too many wine coolers. Maybe some jazz, Seonghwa’s pretentious like that y’know?” He opens your closet door for you and starts to wrack through the few dresses in the very back. You’d never had much of a reason to buy any dresses. 

“Believe me, I know.” Seonghwa was one of the first of Yunho’s friends that you’d met, and while he wasn’t an ass about it he was definitely a little pretentious. It’s probably hard to be an art major for three years and not be pretentious, “Do I have to wear a dress?”

“You don’t have to, but-” 

Long story short, you find yourself sitting on a suede couch clad in a red plaid mini dress that you only bought for a neighborhood Christmas party in your sophomore year and your one pair of worn leather boots. It’s a tight fitting thing, meant to be worn over turtlenecks and with tights, but Mingi insisted that it would look good alone. He’s not wrong either, ever since you set foot into the surprisingly swanky off campus housing your lunch mates have been showering you in compliments. It started with Wooyoung wolf whistling and asking for your phone number, then Hongjoong asking if he could’ve complimented you in a way that was any weirder, then San giving you a stemless wine glass and announcing ‘A sparkling cider for the lady,’ in the most offensive British accent you’ve ever heard. It was for sure a strange form of flattery, but flattery nonetheless. 

“I’m sorry about Wooyoung, he apparently hasn’t been house trained yet.” Hongjoong jokes while settling you onto his plush, red hair briefly sweeping in front of his attentive brown eyes, “Though we can’t really blame him because of the whole sports medicine thing.” You hear a brief ‘I heard that!’ waft from the kitchen, where Yunho and Seonghwa have gathered the majority of the boys. It makes Hongjoong giggle a little bit, and the sound is so clear and gentle that you find yourself giggling too.

“I guess we can’t.” Your eyes move to take in the living room, which is filled with your lunchmates and some extra people who you don’t know in the slightest. First there’s San, your fellow literature major who just switched from middle school education. Then Yeosang, a quiet sophomore who majors in political science. He usually only talks at lunch to tell his table mates that they sound ridiculous, but every once in a while he'll indulge their antics. Lastly there’s Jongho, the only other freshman in the room with you that you know of. You’ve only just finished your second week but everyone’s already expecting him to be the star student of the music program for the next four years. 

Everything about this situation reads anxiety. Mingi is already in a different room, you’ve barely held a conversation with any of these guys before, someone in the corner is definitely getting a little too drunk into a ficus tree in the corner of the room. But you aren’t nervous. A little tense maybe but who wouldn’t be? You certainly aren’t nervous the way that high school you would’ve been nervous.

���He’s not wrong, you know.” Your eyebrows shoot up with a quiet ‘hm?’ behind your lips. It’s mostly because you think you’ve missed something that Hongjoong said.

“Not wrong about what?” He looks at you with his brown eyes and a lopsided grin, and when you look back it feels like he’s asking for permission to unravel you.

“That you look pretty.” 

It’s not his words that take you off guard, or how he pinches your cheeks afterwards, or even him getting off of the couch and bouncing into the kitchen like a kid coming down the stairs. Your heart barely announces a flutter, your cheeks barely give way to heat. He was probably tipsy. It’s just that no one has ever noticed you in that way. No one other than Mingi has ever really called you pretty.

So it leaves an impression, to say the least.

Quickly after Hongjoong leaves, San takes his place, Jongho sitting on the floor and nuzzling into the older boy's legs. The three of you talk for hours, Jongho sharing your disdain for grumpy roommates (he says that Yeosang throws pillows at him when he starts practicing) and San for Beowulf. He does mention that your creative writing class is fun, to which you agree. Fun, but ever so stifling for creativity. 

It’s a simple kind of conversation, the kind that doesn’t tell anything too personal but still gives insight into the people having it. San throws in a few anecdotes about him and Wooyoung in high school, Jongho shows you a bruise he got from fumbling up the ladder to his loft bed. You even include a few of the controversial star wars opinions that you and Mingi came up with at three in the morning so many years ago. It’s simple, weightless.

When Mingi walks you back to your dorm that night he pauses outside of the door, one hand brushing a stray strand of hair away from your eyes.

“Hongjoong asked me about you.” He says, a smile playing onto his lips. Something about the way that it doesn’t fully reach his brown eyes makes it seem sad.

“Really?” The memory of Hongjoongs hands on your face, his cute voice burning the words ‘you look pretty’ into the back of your mind, “W-What did he ask?”

“Just basic stuff. How long we’ve known each other, your major...” He wants to add ‘whether or not we’re dating,’ because that’s the question that struck him the most. Mingi doesn’t know Hongjoong too well, but he knows that the older boy is sweet and respectable. If Mingi explained all of this mess to him, Hongjoong probably wouldn’t think twice, just go about his day and be friendly as always. But Mingi didn’t explain it, he said that you guys are just friends and that it’s never been anything more than that. Hongjoong smiled in a way that made Mingi’s chest ache and thanked him before bouncing off to entertain Seonghwa. He remembers feeling taken aback, then like he should go talk to the pretty girl that’s been eyeing him in calculus, “I can’t do movie night next week. I-I have a date.”

And it’s something about those words that manages to crawl into your body and find a home in your heart, then pump throughout your entire bloodstream. You shouldn’t be upset. You have no reason to be upset. Mingi is your best friend, and you were stuttering about Hongjoong mere seconds ago, and you shouldn’t be upset right now.

“Oh, okay... Just don’t forget about me.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but Mingi looks at you like you’re the moon. With care glimmering in his irises and adoration adorning the glow of his cheeks. You think to yourself that there’s something special in the air, then that you shouldn’t be upset.

You have no reason to be upset.

“I couldn’t if I tried.”

*

The next time that you see Mingi is at lunch on Monday, but he doesn’t take his normal seat next to you. He can’t when you’re already sandwiched between Jongho and San, who are talking in intense detail about their terrible morning classes. Sometimes you can join in, seeing as you and San share classes, but for the most part they just banter. Hongjoong is taking up the seat in front of you, his chin resting on his palm while he nods attentively to everything the younger boys are saying. He reminds Jongho that he needs to be getting sleep, and that life doesn’t happen in practice rooms. He tells San to eat his food whenever the boy gets a little bit too excited. He even asks about your day, to which you respond with something simple and lame. When you mention being tired he gives you the rest of his coffee.

Mingi comes to the table nearly twelve minutes after you do, and it’s not really a big deal that he can’t take his usual seat. There’s a chair between Wooyoung and Yunho at the end of the table, which is perfectly fine. The two of you know each other well enough that a simple look can be translated to ‘It’s okay, we’ll see each other later.’ Which is perfectly fine. You both have a lunch that is perfectly fine.

The week continues on like that, though. Missing each other by a hair's breadth. On Wednesday his intro to statistical methods test goes so late that he misses your scheduled coffee run, then when you tried to surprise him in his dorm later that night, Yunho had to inform you that he was holed up in the library with some of the people in his calculus class (Yunho let you come in and made hot chocolate in the Keurig, so overall the night wasn’t too bad.) Then on Thursday you skipped lunch, opting instead to finish the assigned Beowulf reading at the last possible minute. You hated every minute of it, but not as much as you would’ve hated failing your second ever quiz. San sent you a picture of himself and Hongjoong pouting around your empty chair and Mingi in the background laughing at something that Wooyoung had done to Seonghwa. 

Friday night feels more lonely than you had expected. Your bed is empty without the taller boy sitting in it beside you. The movie gets cut off halfway through when your roommate stumbles in and announces that she’s going to sleep, which is the most she’s ever said to you at one time. You turn off your laptop and fall into the uncomfortable bed that you’re slowly getting used to. This is okay. You remind yourself that you shouldn’t be upset and that this is okay. 

Right as sleep is about to wash over the room your phone lights up with a message from Mingi. It’s a picture of his hand cradling the chin of a golden retriever puppy, and beneath he’s written ‘we found these dogs in the courtyard. sleep well :)’ 

After reading the message three times over and staring at the image for ten minutes you start to believe your words. This is okay.

You shouldn’t be upset and this is okay.

*

Your high school had three classes per semester then one free period for a study hall. Mingi would always make this huge deal out of lining up your study halls, claiming that he needed help with his English classes. In reality you were the person that needed help with classes, namely math and science, but he’d always insist that it was because of whatever book he had for assigned reading in the upcoming class. 

There was this one semester, though, where you had four classes. Anatomy, geometry, personal finance, and then your absolute saving grace. Creative writing. 

It was a true blessing, honestly. Since every other class was absolute torture, and you didn’t really have any Mingi time to take the edge off of your day, that class was your favorite part of nearly every day. You would kind of use it as an escape, just sit in the isolated corner desk, tap the toe of your then fresh leather boots, and write about any and everything that came to mind. The teacher liked one of your stories so much that he framed it. 

Seeing as that was your only experience when you saw ‘Introduction To Creative Writing’ on your schedule you were ecstatic. You thought that you’d just get to sit and write anything that you wanted. Needless to say, it is nothing at all like your high school class. The teacher speaks too quickly and assigns nearly a million readings. He waited four weeks to let the students do any actual writing, a fact that San was most grateful for. You, however, were dying.

You think the assignment is kind of stupid, too. Focus on a setting, no characters. Just the setting. It took a while for you to get it just right, but after about a week of staying up past midnight you wrote something that was actually good enough to read. It was nearly two pages about Florence Italy, going in depth about the winding roads. You commented that they were the kind of streets that lent way to deep discussion. The kind that begged for secrets to be shared.

All in all, you were quite proud of it. You even considered showing it to Mingi, until it came back with a bright red C sketched on the front. It was covered top to bottom in red ink markings, none of which were comments about your grammar. No, these notes were personal. This sentence is lifeless. Your tone shift is unnecessary. I’m not sure that this is actually in Italy. 

San asked about your grade on the way to your European literature class that day, right as you’re reading over the harshest note of them all. He says that he got an A minus, which makes perfect sense. San isn’t lifeless, he doesn’t do unnecessary things. 

“My grade is fine.” You choke out, eyes endlessly tracing over the red notation. 

‘This feels lonely.’ 

In a way, you suppose that it is. 

*

“So you did this every single Friday night?” Yunho questions while sandwiching his way onto Mingi’s bed. It would probably be normal to be upset that your movie is being infiltrated by your friends roommate and Hongjoong, but you’re just so grateful for the movie night to actually happen that it doesn’t matter.

“Sounds about right.” You’re about to comment that you’ve skipped the past two weeks, but the words twinge with resentment right as they’re about to come out. So you swallow them down while scooching into Mingi’s side. Hongjoong immediately fills the new space beside you, his hands occupied with fuzzy blankets that have various patterns. One has corgi’s and hearts printed from corner to corner.

“I don’t know if that’s lame or endearing.” The older boy comments while spreading the blanket you’d been eyeing across your lap. Yunho laughs while taking in a mouthful of microwave popcorn, and you think to yourself that this isn’t so bad. Having a movie night with more people than usual is better than having none at all. There’s more snacks and extra blankets now, so you don’t have to burrow into Mingi’s comforter halfway through and tangle your legs together. Because you’ve never wanted to do that before, it just happened out of habit and necessity. Definitely habit and necessity. Definitely. 

There’s also not much difference in the essence of movie night. Someone still interrupts serious scenes to crack a joke, you still tell Mingi that he’s breathing too loud, by the time the credits are rolling you still find grease stains on the underside of Mingis comforter. It’s from all of the years of him using the plush blanket in place of a napkin, and the years of you telling him that he’s going to stain it.

Mingi walks you back to your dorm that night. When he stops in front of the door and lets out a deep exhale it almost feels like you haven’t skipped the past two weeks. It almost feels normal.

“I’m glad that at least one of us has a cool roommate.” He comments idly, eyes raking over your growing smile.

“With cool friends.” There’s a gentle laugh, and you’re not exactly sure why. Nothing is funny, just familiar. Maybe a bit tense, though you suppose you don’t know the reason for that either.

“Yea. Cool friends.” Mingis feet shuffle, brown hair flopping onto the bridge of his nose as his gaze takes purchase on the floor. He smells like oranges and cinnamon. He always has. You think that he looks nice like this, with the flickering hall lights illuminating his face. This is probably what Mingi was always meant to look like. Real, and handsome, and grown, “I think we should switch movie nights to once a month.”

And if this whole thing was a little tense before, like an ornament hanging on by it’s hook around one green needle from a Christmas tree, it’s worse now. It’s broken shards of glass all over your living room floor, willing and ready to pierce your foot and stain the carpet. It’s the gaping hole in your Christmas tree. It’s your mom's favorite Santa no longer having a head.

“O-oh... Once a month?” Mingi nods gently. It almost looks like he doesn’t want to be nodding, but he is. He is, and it’s pulling your heartstrings like an orchestra. 

“Yea, I just figured that’d be easier since we’re so busy. Y’know, with classes and friends...” You wonder if he’s going to say something else. Like dates with girls from his calculus class. He never does, but you can feel it.

“I know, I-I’m like... Super busy with all of my f-friends.” A heartless laugh leaves you, and Mingi replies with a smile that doesn’t quite crinkle his eyes, “But yea. Once a month, once a month. Once a month totally works for me.” He takes a step towards you.

“Look, (y/n-)” You think that he’s about to comfort you, which of course would be welcome. Comfort from your very best friend is always welcome. It’s just that a small part of you is worried that he’s going to take it back. You’re worried that he’s going to tell you that it’s whatever and you can have movie night every week until you die and that he’s going to live life in college dragged down by your stupid, lonely self. You’re worried that he’s going to drop it, and that you’ll never live it down.

“It’s fine, I’ll see you tomorrow at lunch, yea?” Before the boy can even fully nod, which makes you sick to your stomach for no apparent reason, you’re scrambling desperately for the doorknob to your dorm. You think that you may hear him say goodbye, or wait, or something. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Everything matters. You just want to be inside. 

When you get inside your roommate is sitting on her bed with earbuds in, though they don’t appear to be playing anything. She looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, and you can’t really blame her. In the rush to get away from Mingi you probably ended up looking a bit frazzled. 

“Um... Are you okay?” She questions, her mouth making a perfect circle. You nod fervently while bringing your palms up to pull at your cheeks. They’re wet. You’re not sure when they turned wet. 

“I’m fine. It’s okay.” 

Sometimes you say something so many times that it doesn’t sound real anymore. I’m okay, this is okay. I’m okay, this is okay, This is okay, this is okay. Okay, okay, okay...

If your roommate hears you sniffling and shaking while alone in bed that night, she makes no comment. It’s the first thing she’s given you to be grateful about all year. 

*

One of your biggest concerns before starting college was walking to classes alone. All throughout high school Mingi would walk with you across the tiny campus, somehow managing to drown out the crowded hallways with laughter and tips for quizzes. When you were taking discrete mathematics he’d walk backwards down the hallway while showing you flashcards. 

Obviously you knew that wouldn’t be feasible in college. You might not have known many things before coming here, but you knew that vastly different majors would lead to vastly different classes. You knew that Mingi wasn’t going to wake up at eight am every Wednesday to walk you to your lectures. Knowing didn’t seem to make the actual act of it any easier in your brain.

But after just one week you started to look forward to the trek to your classes. At first it was because you could listen to the assigned readings in the amount of time it took you to get from your door to your desk, however that hasn’t been necessary since your social calendar became suddenly clear. You just do the readings at night in your loft bed, which hasn’t gotten any comfier, then use the walk as a time to relax. To think without impositions, even though they’d find their way to you most mornings. 

Today your imposition is dressed in jeans with painting above the knee and a sweater that’s too big, tufts of red hair sticking out from beneath his black beanie.

“What are you doing out so early?” Hongjoong asks while jogging to take up the spot next to you, pulling on the strap of your bookbag as he arrives. When you fully look at his face you can see a dusting of pink across his nose. You think it’s from the light fall wind.

“I could ask the same thing of you.” You think that he looks pretty like this, with inklings of the rising sun taking purchase on his face. You almost think that anyone would look pretty like this.

“I’m out for a walk. Also grabbing muffins from the campus cafe, we’re out of food and Seonghwa’s mgonna be hungry.” His voice sounds groggy with sleep, like maybe he hasn’t been awake long. The notion conjures an image in your head of Hongjoong detangling himself from bed and trekking out to campus all so that his friend would surely have something to eat. It makes this whole exchange just a little bit easier, “Your turn.”

“I have an eight am class.” The boys eyebrows knit together as he looks at his darkened phone screen.

“It’s seven fifteen.” 

“... I don’t like my roommate?” At that wimpy explanation he laughs, a gentle laugh that was made for morning, then hooks his arm through your own. The weight is something that you’ll have to grow used to.

“You kids are gonna drive me insane, I swear it.” His free hand pinches your cheek which is growing increasingly warmer. You hope that you two will continue walking like this, quiet and unbothered and maybe a little bit childish.

“Hongjoong?” You question as he begins to pull you down a brick paved road that you’ve yet to travel.

“Hm?” He answers like nothing about this is strange. 

“My class is the other way.” The boy giggles at your concern, wanting to reach out and run his thumb over the crease in between your eyebrows. Something about your demeanor, which isn’t far off from a stray kitten, clues him in that you wouldn’t respond well. 

“We’re taking a detour.” 

“If you don’t tell me where we’re going I’ll pull out my pepper spray.” This sentiment is the first thing all morning that’s made him stop in his tracks, casting a puzzled look to your bulky bookbag.

“Do you actually have pepper spray in there?” You can feel a smile edging on your lips as your eyes click with his, and while you know that he’s not giving you butterflies or sparks it does feel like something. Like the first gulp of soup on a cold day, or the sound of orange leaves crunching beneath your sneakers. 

“Tell me where we’re going and you won’t have to find out.” Obviously, you don’t have any. It’s been in your cart on Amazon for forever but you’re not one hundred percent sure about how to order things to a dorm, and you figure that your first package shouldn’t be a literal weapon. 

“We’re getting coffee, and you are terrifying.” The comment lights your cheeks with fire as you scurry to catch up with him once again.

“Well you’re the only person that thinks so.” The boy walks so quickly that your feet are nearly going in double time, face puffing with cold air while you speak.

“I doubt that.” You notice that his face is pink again, though you’re not too sure that it’s from the cold this time.

“You’re probably the only person who thinks anything of me.” Hongjoong stutters like he’s going to stop walking again but you tug on his arm once more and he’s back in full swing. 

“That’s so not true. Yunho thinks you’re sweet, San says you’re a wonderful writer, Mingi clearly thinks that you’re amazing.” That last statement finds a crawl in your chest and begins to fill your lungs with pink daisies. Amazing. Mingi clearly thinks you’re amazing. 

“Sure.” You answer with twiddly fingertips and a thumping heart. Luckily you’re standing in front of the campus cafe before you can think too hard on it.

Hongjoong orders two salted caramel hot chocolates, a black coffee, and three blueberry muffins. When you asked why he didn’t get you a coffee as promised he told you that the coffee here is ass and Seonghwa only drinks it because he’s starved for energy. You don’t have the heart to tell him that the frappuccino you order has so much cream and sugary syrups in it that you could barely even call it coffee, and it tastes pretty darn good. It’s not a big deal. Hot chocolate is good too.

“This is really good.” You offer later while walking through the campus quad. There’s not many people out this early, just a girl you’ve seen in your lecture once or twice and two boys playing checkers on the grass. Hongjoong keeps stepping on the crunchy orange leaves then smiling like a little kid. It makes you think that he’s growing on you, then that you thought that you’d be doing this kind of stuff with Mingi. 

You don’t really know why you can’t let yourself enjoy this. You’re in the quad with Hongjoong, waiting out the clock until your class starts, and this precious sweet boy is playing in the fall leaves. This should be a perfect morning, but you can’t help feeling sad. Feeling incomplete. 

“I know, right?” He answers, bouncing over to you wearing a bright expression, “Now get up pretty girl, we’re playing in the leaves.” 

“I have a lecture.” He takes your hot chocolate and places it on the empty seat next to you before slotting his hand into your own. His skin is soft, like blankets fresh out of the dryer.

“And before that you’re going to have some fun, let’s go!” He’s smiling at you expectantly, so what are you supposed to do other than drop your hot chocolate and join him?

Your first impression is that he plays with people in the way that a puppy would play with another puppy. He’s quite fond of kicking up piles of leaves just to see how tall they’ll go, then you kick them up further and he gets flustered. He then proceeds to throw leaves in your face, then picks them out of your hair before you can get mad enough to throw them back. You think that this is a lot of fun, then that your trusty boots make a nice sound when the leaves crunch under them.

There’s this one time when you try to kick up the leaves and your leg slips out from beneath you, which sends you flailing backwards into the leaf pile. Hongjoong rushes over immediately, his face half concerned but mostly lit with laughter. He asks if you’re okay, though it’s through indecipherable wheezing so you can’t really hear him. The boy is laughing so hard that he ends up laying next to you, red hair and sparkling eyes mingling with the orange leaves seamlessly. You think that he looks like a photograph. 

If you show up to your lecture ten minutes late and with crushed leaves sprinkled through your hair, no one mentions it. 

*

Movie night with Wooyoung and San is fun. The popcorn is a little bit burnt, courtesy of San, but their couch is far more comfortable and blankets far fuzzier. Sans burning a candle that smells like cookies, and you feel like nothing could be more accurate to him. 

“This is nice, I’ve been meaning to rewatch Harry Potter.” Wooyoung comments while sinking in between you and San on the couch. He’s cradling a bowl of slightly browned popcorn and shoving it into his mouth as if there’s nothing wrong. 

“Yea, definitely. I like spending nights in.” You’re about to tell them that you considered this a night out, but then you think that’s terribly sad and that you’d sound really lame. So you nod instead.

They’re pleasant movie guests, San makes funny comments every once in a while. Wooyoung starts to fidget about halfway through the first movie so he spends the first portion of the second one making a fresh batch of popcorn. It doesn’t burn this time. Him and San spend almost the entire movie tossing popcorn across the room and into each others mouths.  Overall it’s not such a bad night.

When all is said and done and you’re helping them pick up misfire popcorn kernels, the boys get to talking. They ask you what Mingi’s up to that he couldn’t make it to a Friday movie night. You’re going to tell them the truth, that Mingi’s out on a different date with a different girl from a different class. You’re going to tell them, but the words taste so terribly bitter on the way up.

“Um... I’m not sure. Probably homework.” Wooyoung tosses an unpopped kernel so that it hits you square in the forehead. You simply giggle before throwing it into your trash bag.

“We should’ve invited him! Him and Yunho, it could’ve been a whole thing!” San shouts from the kitchen. It makes your skin prick up with goosebumps. Because while you are definitely lonely, and you definitely miss Mingi, you’re not sure that you could handle his response. You’re not sure that you could handle asking Mingi to come to one of your most prized traditions and him saying no. Him saying no because he’s out with another girl and giving her his undivided attention, because that is how he is, and you couldn’t handle hearing him saying no to you. He never used to say no to you.

“I had fun with just you guys, though!” They tackle you in a bear hug, and it feels nice. It really does, it’s just that you still have that nagging feeling in your gut. Like your professor is right. Like you’re alone.

*

Your next ‘Introduction To Creative Writing’ assignment is about characters. The rubric clearly states that it should just be about the people and nothing else. Points will actually be deducted if you mention a setting.

So you wrote two characters, a boy and a girl. The boy finds the girl too bland so he asks if she’ll share a secret with him. She thinks for a long time while the boy studies her face, and he loves every corner of it. Finally, she leans in to whisper something. You don’t tell the audience what she’s said, but you do tell them that it makes the boy laugh. Then he kisses her cheek and they laugh some more, until time dies out and the stars no longer shine. You liked it from the moment that you started writing it, and by the end it was something that you were genuinely quite proud of.

Apparently pride wasn’t enough to get you a much higher grade. It’s passed back looking exactly like the last one, a bright red C and thousands of red notations. You flip to the rubric in the back to see that everything is marked straight down the middle. 

You didn’t mention a setting, but you didn’t make the setting irrelevant.

Your characters didn’t interact with the setting, but they barely interacted with each other.

You included characters, but they were not lively and enjoyable.

And you’re not quite sure why everything you write is so dead. You’re not a person who feels dead, you’re funny and full of life. You have things to say that are important so you write them into stories rather than speaking them out loud. You’re good at this, so why are you getting C’s? Why is an old man with a beard that touches his belly button saying that you aren’t good at this? 

When you get back to your dorm you rip the paper to shreds and cry alone in your loft bed. Mingi texts you to ask when you’ll be at dinner, you tell him that you’re too busy with homework. He asks if he should bring you something, but you lie that it’s all covered. You’re not entirely sure that you could handle seeing him right now. 

When your roommate comes in she seems a little drunk. She clambers over to her bed then finally looks up to you. It’s not your finest moment, cheeks streaked with mascara and shreds of paper all around you.

“You okay?” She slurs out. You think that it’s a dumb question, because obviously you aren’t, but at least she’s trying. Trying is good.

“I’m fine” Right as the words come out you know that they sound fake, but you don’t know what else to do. Normally when you feel like this Mingi is just a phone call away. Every time you’ve tried to call him in the past week it’s gone to voicemail. When a week has really torn you down like this one you’d always have a movie night to look forward to. Mingi made it clear that he wasn’t too keen on that anymore. You usually have your shoulder to cry on. Now you don’t even think you’ll be able to keep yourself together if you see him.

And it’s hard for a lot of reasons. Because you need Mingi but Mingi doesn’t need you. Because everything feels so wrong unless you’re desperately trying to salvage your longest friendship. Because maybe this friendship meant a little bit more than just that, but you’ve realized entirely too late.

*

You usually wake up at seven thirty in the morning. It’s not because you want to, or because your roommate is too loud climbing into her bed at night, or because the sun comes into your dorm weirdly. You just go to sleep late, because you can’t force your brain to stop, then wake up early. Because out of all of the things that are going wrong, why wouldn’t you also get less than four hours of sleep every night?

But it’s not all bad. Every other morning you meet Hongjoong in the quad. Sometimes it’s with a book, sometimes with your latest creative writing assignment. He’ll read them and make comments. He always says that it’s good, and it’s fun to believe him for a little while. 

This morning you come to him empty handed, just like he said to last time. There’s supposed to be a surprise. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that you don’t like surprises. 

“Good morning, pretty lady!” He’s always so chipper in the mornings, with his eyes crinkling happily around the edges and bright red hair bouncing. Today he’s wearing a puffy coat that’s nearly ready to swallow him whole paired with jeans that have a painting sprawling up the calf. You had recently found out that he and Seonghwa were responsible for the illustrations on everyone's clothes. Mingi gave them his favorite jeans after two lunches spent in the cafeteria.

“Good morning.” You were clearly finding it hard to be as excited.

“Did you read the student newsletter yesterday?” Cold air puffs from his lips along with the words, and his face lights up when you shake your head no. The collar of his coat is brushing his cheeks, “So it’s really a surprise then!”

He’s so precious and childlike in that moment that you decide there’s no harm in indulging him.

“What’s really a surprise?” He’s already started walking so you have to do a half jog to catch up, once you’re at his side he starts to skip so that you have to jog even further. This happens every once in a while whenever your friend is feeling extra punchy. You often find it hard to match that energy, but something about this early November morning has you more present than ever.

“Catch up to me and I’ll let you know.” He reaches into his pocket and appears to pull something out, then hang it over his head. You know there’s nothing in his hand. It’s empty and you know that, nevertheless you chase after him. The boy laughs loudly before sprinting away. Once you’ve caught him you start jumping for the mythical gift hanging over his head, which he finds unreasonably funny. The sound rings off the brick path beneath your feet, and it’s like the sun is finally rising. You think that’s the kind of person that Hongjoong is, the kind that would bring the sun up just to make someone else smile. 

When you open his clenched hand he slips it into yours, fingers curling ever so gently around your own. His skin feels soft, it makes you wonder what kind of lotion he’s using.

“I caught up.” Your voice sounds small. Hongjoong thinks it’s bright, “What’s my surprise?”

“There are puppies in the quad, I think they’re up for adoption. I figured you’d like to see them.” He’s perfect. On paper Hongjoong should be the perfect boyfriend. He takes you to see puppies, buys you hot chocolate, makes you play in leaf piles, you’re pretty sure he’s redone his entire sleep schedule just so that you two can keep up with these morning strolls. You so badly want Hongjoong to be perfect.

But there’s just something off. Maybe it’s because his one hand can’t fully engulf both of yours, or because he doesn’t tower over you with what feels like two extra feet. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t smell like orange zest and freshly ground cinnamon. 

Maybe it’s because he’s not Song Mingi.

“I would like to see them.” You respond, squeezing onto the boy's hands. Hongjoong is perfect, but he’s just not right, “I’d like that very much.”

*

You’re not quite sure how it happened, but San seemed to notice that your Fridays were becoming more and more lonely. After that one Harry Potter movie night you did with him and Wooyoung in their shared apartment you’ve not really done anything. Hongjoong invited you to another house party, and you were going to go, but when you reached for the handle to exit your dorm you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Something about going and knowing that Mingi would be there, probably with his date of the week, made your mouth taste sour. So you stayed home instead, sitting in your bed and struggling with a creative writing assignment. You’d occasionally snack on some granola bars that Mingi stashed in the bottom of your closet when he moved you in.

Those were your plans for tonight, but San grabbed you just before class ended. He told you that Wooyoung was planning dinner but the recipe serves four so he figured that they could invite you and save the rest as leftovers. You agreed, fully expecting that you’d chicken out at the last second and stay home, yet here you are. Standing in their kitchen while sipping on a shirley temple that San mixed up for you, Wooyoung is occasionally stirring the simmering pot on the stove. San invited Hongjoong at the very last second so those two are sitting at the kitchen table and trying to talk each other's ears off. You find your way into the empty seat beside Hongjoong and let his hand rest on your thigh. He rubs gentle circles on your jeans, and it nearly gives you butterflies.

“Dinner is almost done, would you guys mind grabbing some drinks from the garage.” The two boys nod before scurrying towards the front door and shared garage. Wooyoung takes the seat across from you, “Do you think you’re gonna date him?”

“Who?” You ask, probably in a less defensive way than he’d anticipated.

“Hongjoong.” Wooyoung doesn’t look as playful as usual, the childlike glint gone from his eyes. If anything the boy appears worried, probably for his friend Hongjoong. Part of you wants him to be worried for you. You’ve barely eaten anything except for granola bars in the past week because you don’t want to risk running into Mingi in the cafeteria. Your five hours of sleep every night has been slowly dwindling down to four. Mingi has moved movie night twice this month. You still can’t get a good grade on a creative writing assignment. 

“I don’t know.” You think that you probably are. You think that you mostly want to.

“But you aren’t going to date Mingi?” It feels like the air around you is made of cotton, your mouth has gone completely dry.

You don’t know why you’re upset. You shouldn’t be upset.

“No.” There are tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You hope that if you breathe deeply enough then you can will them to stop, “I suppose I won’t.”

The dinner turns out lovely, but you can barely take a bite. You can barely even say another word for the rest of the night. You just tell  them thank you, it was lovely, then go home to finish your creative writing assignment. The professor is probably going to write a note that it’s lonely. That’s okay, though. It is lonely, because that’s what you are. Terribly, and irrevocably lonely.

*

A week after the dinner party you and San are partnered together on a creative writing assignment. The main goal is to learn how to work collaboratively with another author, not that you even considered yourself that, and it’s coming along nicely. There are just a few things that need to be cleaned up before it’s due, which prodded San to invite you out to coffee. At least you thought that’s what it was about, but when he takes his seat at the table there’s no laptop tucked beneath his arm.

“A-are we not working on the project?” You question softly, hands hovering idly over your keyboard. 

“I wasn’t planning to, but you... You can if you want to, I guess.” He drops his bags and heavy coat in the vacant seat before flipping through his wallet, “You ordered yet?” You shake your head no, you didn’t want him to show up and have you already be halfway done with your drink and then deal with the awkward conversation of how you showed up thirty minutes early because other than meeting Hongjoong in the morning this is the only thing on your social calendar for a week. After that you have movie night, “I’ll get you something. Coffee or tea?” 

“Coffee.” When the boy returns to the table, it’s with two steaming mugs, perfect for the frost bitten weather outside. Yours smells like vanilla and nutmeg.

“It’s the shop special I think.” He smiles gently, dimples on parade for the entire campus to see. You think that San has a nice smile, the kind that takes over his face, along with yours before you can even stop it.

“It’s nice, thank you.” Things are quiet for a second while San is putting away his wallet, and for some reason you’re confused. If you’re not going to work on the project then why on earth did he make the time to get coffee? 

“(Y/n?)” He asks softly, raising your attention from the untouched mug of coffee to where his hand is on the lid of your laptop, “Are you okay?”

“Yea, I’m good.” The words sound dismissive before they’ve even left your mouth, “Why did you ask to get coffee?” Sans eyebrows raise and he feels a small tug on his heart. He doesn’t understand why he wouldn’t want to spend time with you.

“Because I have free time and I wanted to spend it with you.” You’re not sure why, but it’s hard to hear that. Maybe because you’ve been hiding from life for as long as you can remember, or because you’ve had nothing but free time for a month and you’ve wanted to spend all of it with the one person that will hardly return your texts, or maybe because sometimes those words are hard to hear. 

“Oh.” You take a sip of the coffee, it makes your stomach feel warm for the first time in a long time, “Thank you.” San cracks his knuckles while offering up a gentle smile.

“No need to thank me, we’re friends.” 

“I guess that’s why I’m thanking you. I don’t have a lot of friends, if you hadn’t noticed.” The boy is looking at you with attentive eyes, and it feels like there’s something lodged in the back of your throat. It tastes like vanilla and nutmeg and thousands of wasted opportunities, “I used to have Mingi, but he’s so busy with all of the classes and... Dates, that we don’t really talk much. I’m grateful that I have you.” When San smiles it’s sweet and genuine and you feel like you are finally doing the whole college thing. The thing where you make growth.

“I’m grateful to have you too, you’re a sweet kid.” If you weren’t so touched you would remind him that he’s only one year older, “I don’t think any of Mingi’s dates have much substance, honestly.” Something about the way he says it makes you think that he’s not talking about the girls themselves. It makes your heart flip.

“How come?” As soon as the words leave your mouth you pray that they don't sound eager. San lets out a heavy sigh and you think that maybe your prayer worked.

“He just isn’t really satisfied with anything. There have been girls eyeing him since his first time in the cafeteria, but he didn’t care much for it. Now he’s decided to take them up on their offers, and yet he still doesn’t seem to care for it. We’ve all asked him what’s up but he won’t say much. Just that it’s not what he’s looking for.” There’s a pointed gaze that says a million things. Mingi hasn’t found what he’s looking for. Mingi is just as lost as you are. Maybe Mingi couldn’t find what he was looking for because it’s always been there. Maybe Mingi needs you as much as you need him.

“Oh. I didn’t know.” You leave the cafe that day with a smile on your face and hope fluttering around in your heart, and for the first time in a long time you think that maybe you can be happy.

*

You’ve been planning this night since the moment you stepped out of the campus cafe with San. It’s probably a little bit cheesy, with all of the contraband candles and what not, but Mingi always said that you went a little overboard on movie nights. Now you’re standing in the center of your empty dorm room, illuminated by tea light candles, wearing the dress that you wore when Mingi dragged you to your first ‘party,’ and your heart all the way in your throat. Because tonight is the night. Tonight you’re going to tell Mingi how you feel about him, and you’re not going to listen to the little voice in your head that says this is probably stupid, and that Mingi showing up over half an hour late is a bad sign. That voice is annoying and has made you wait too long for too many things.

So when Mingi walks into your dorm with rosy cheeks and windblown hair, you let your heart stutter. When his jaw drops open, you let yourself laugh, and when he takes a step forward, you do too.

“What’s this about?” He questions with a familiar deep voice that leaves warmth blossoming in your chest. 

“I just...” Your eyes lock onto the freckle on his neck before flashing back up to eyes. They’re sparkling in the flickering candle light, “I’ve missed you. Really badly, Mingi. I miss you in the mornings when I walk to class, I miss you at lunch when I get my granola bars from the closet, I miss you when I’m with my friends, I-I... I miss you on Friday nights. I spend all of my time missing you, and I don’t want to anymore. I’m tired of hiding how I feel about things, like I think that my creative writing assignments are stupid, and I hate everyone in sports medicine except for Wooyoung, and I miss you. A-and I think that I might love you, so I wanted to-” Mingi takes two steps forward, coming dangerously close to closing your distance, and you think that he’s about to kiss you. You think that you’re ready for him to kiss you. You’re heart is beating faster, then faster, then faster-

“Why are you doing this?” And then it stops dead. You honestly think that you might be dead. This feels worse than being dead.

“Um, d-doing- Doing what? I’m not doing anything, I thought you were-” You’re rambling and it’s so awful, Mingi knows it’s awful. His hands are massaging his temples as if this is insanely stressful. It kind of is, but you can’t figure out why he would think so.

“Why are you telling me that you love me? After not seeing each other for almost a month, why are you telling me that?” Clearly, this is not the way that you expected tonight to go. Several of the candles by your desk has burnt out, you feel like you’re about to cry, “I haven’t been lonely, (Y/n,) because I have a-” You feel tears tugging on your eyelids so hard that it hurts. Before you can think about it, and before you can hear whatever he has to say, your index finger is in between his eyes and you’re staring at him like you want to throw something out a window.

“Don’t say that.” It’s probably the most assertive you’ve ever been with him, “I just don’t understand why you’re fighting me on this.” Mingi takes a deep breath before running his hands through his hair. You wonder when he picked up on that habit, which person got to see this before you did. He looks handsome. You hate it. 

“I don’t understand why you get to want this now. I don’t understand how I have waited and waited for you to love me back for years, and once I’m finally done with letting you break my heart you get to decide that you want this. I don’t understand how that’s fair.” There are tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, but they’re different from the ones that you’ve seen before. They’re not like the ones he sheds over movies, these tears are angry and unwilling. 

“Mingi I-“ 

“Don’t say that you didn’t know. I know that you didn’t know, because you never wanted to know. You were too scared to know, but I was never scared. I’ve always known that we were right, and you were always scared.” It feels like your heart is trying to crawl up your throat in the worst way possible. Like it’s a spider that you swallowed. 

“Mingi that's not what-“ 

“But I can’t be with you (Y/n,) because I’m done with you being scared. I’ve been done with you being scared for years, and I'm finally okay with being done with you. Let me be okay, (Y/n.)'' There are now tears behind your eyes as well, but it’s not angry. It’s sad, because he’s right. You are really scared, it took months for you to work up the courage to admit to even yourself that you love Mingi.

“What are you saying?” The words are choked and staccato, tears spilling freely onto your cheeks. A brief look at his tear streaked face tells you that he’s known this answer for forever. 

“I’m saying that I can’t be with you right now. I just… Can’t.”

He leaves before he can see you sink to the tiled floor, or hide your face in your hands, or cry off all of the mascara you had put on just for tonight. Just so that you could bat your eyelashes at him and give him love until the sun came up. Just so that you could give him your love like flowers and a candle lit room.

But you don’t get to do that. You put on mascara for no reason. Mingi doesn’t want your love, he doesn’t want your candle lit room. He gave your flowers back, and they’re just going to sit on your nightstand until time takes her toll on them. Until they wilt and wither and all of the petals fall onto the floor. You don’t know if you’ll have the strength to sweep them up.

It’s not clear when you start crying, but it is clear that you never stop. You cry for hours and hours until you finally pull yourself off the floor and into your bed. The candles burn themselves into darkness. The room smells a bit like ash. Your blankets are warm. Your chest aches. Mingi is gone. You are scared and you’re alone. You probably always will be.

* 

You’re not sure when food lost its taste. When your room lost its color. When your legs became too heavy to move. When sleep became extinct. When it was easier to be in the library than it was to be in your own room. When every single one of your grades sky rocketed to an A while creative writing sat heavily at a C. You can’t watch Star Wars anymore without wanting to throw up. Strawberry ice cream tastes like poison.

You’d fallen asleep on a desk in the back of the library twice before Yunho found you. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do seeing as it was the middle of the day and no one had heard from you for a week and a half except for San, but he figured that leaving a hot coffee by your sleepy head seemed to suffice. If you were tired enough to fall asleep in the library it was probably much needed.

He thought that he’d just forget about that encounter, sweep it quietly under the rug and hope that you started getting more sleep. It was going well enough, until he arrived here. One week later, ten minutes before midnight, you in the same exact position as last time. There were tear tracks in your makeup and black smudged beneath your eyes. He could see the assignment peeking out from beneath your folded arms, ‘Study In Relationships,’ no doubt for creative writing. There are only two words that aren’t covered in black scribbles. You let a gentle snore, and he knows that it’s time to wake you up. To talk to you.

“(Y/n?)” He whispers while gently nudging your shoulder. You grumble ever so slightly before snatching the unfinished assignment back to rest beneath your head. Another small grunt leaves your lips before he calls out your name again, shaking you with a bit more force than the last time. Your eyes flutter open gently and take in the tan walls and fluorescent lighting before you fully register that Yunho is there. 

“Hey,” Your voice is gruff around the edges, and you know that if you say too much everything is going to fall apart, “good to see you.” His eyes take you in, sweatpants with countless stains, a hoodie that has a little hole forming in the armpit, your hair disheveled and greasy. He knew that something bad had happened when Mingi came back to the dorm about two weeks ago with tear filled eyes and an unwillingness to talk. You stopped showing up to any of the meals after that, even Hongjoong couldn’t get a hold of you. The blue haired boy would be lying if he said he didn’t worry for you in passing, but all of those concerns were brought to a forefront at the sight of you now. You look, and he means this in the nicest way possible, like a disaster. 

“Yea, i-it’s good to see you too.” His hands fiddle with the hem of his sweatshirt, busying themselves so that he doesn’t start to pack up for you, “The library is closing.” Your eyebrows furrow as you suddenly remember where you are. 

“Oh. I-I’ll get this cleaned up then.” You don’t know why, but asking him to help feels wrong. You’d like help, but something about his pitying eyes makes you feel small. The same way that you did when those boys pushed you off of your hot pink bike. Like he’s pitying you, except now there’s no lanky kid to save you.

Yunho ends up offering the smallest amount of help possible, just slipping your pencil into your bookbag, before helping you stand. The room swims for a minute before you can walk.

“Can I walk you back to your dorm?” You don’t know how to tell him that most nights you don’t go back to the dorms after the library kicks you out. Most nights you plop down on a bench in the quad and slave over your creative writing journal. Most nights you don’t crawl back into your room until four in the morning, when your roommate is dead asleep and can’t ask you if you’re okay, “Just don’t want you walking back alone in the dark.”

And really, what are you supposed to say?

“Yea, that’s fine.” The two of you walk in silence for a wall, nothing except for the rhythm of padding feet and rustling tree branches. Early winter air nips the tops of your ears while Yunho shivers beside you. You hear him miss a step and you feel yourself choke on a thousand words. 

“We’ve missed you.” You don’t respond with the question that you desperately want to ask. You don’t ask if everyone misses you. If a certain boy that smells of cinnamon and eyes that glimmer like childhood misses you. 

“Yea. I’ve missed you guys too.” The silhouette of your dorm building is slowly coming into view, you think that it looks different when the world is still awake. Some windows are still lit, people are drawing curtains shut. Normally when you come home everything is dark and unbelievably cold. This isn’t anything special, but it’s a whole lot better than that, “This is me.” You say tersely while slowing to a stop in front of the looming building.

“Yep.” You can tell that he wants to ask you something. Maybe it’s why you were asleep in the library, or why depression wears you like a necktie, or why he hasn’t seen you in the cafeteria for a month in a half. He wants to ask you something, but the way his lips close around the consonant tells you that he won’t.

You get halfway into the door before something tugs at your heart strings, “Yunho?” You call out, turning halfway over your shoulder to see his eyes trained on you. They look sad. You think that it makes sense why, “Thank you.” 

He nods curtly, and you know that he’s not sure why you’re thanking him. It’s okay though, because at least you know that he misses you. Before tonight, you thought no one missed you.

Sleep is as rare as ever that night, yet the thing that lulls you to sleep is the same as always. Floppy brown hair, clapping hands, a bad CGI explosion playing off of a crackly VHS tape. He smells like cinnamon and orange rinds, yet when you inhale it’s nothing but your dusty dorm room.

*

The end of the semester means wrapping up many loose ends. You pack up every coat and Christmas themed clothing item in your closet, notably avoiding the dress that you wore for Mingi. You meet Hongjoong for coffee and exchange presents, a pair of customized jeans for you and a twenty five dollar visa gift card for him. He smiled really wide when you told him that it was to make up for all of the coffees and meaningless conversation. You drop the level two creative writing class that was on your schedule. San makes a plan to meet up over the holiday and you agree wholeheartedly. Finals week isn’t all too bad seeing as you’re already getting less than four hours of sleep a night and funneling every bit of brain power into school. The only thing that’s left for you to do is turning in your creative writing assignment, which is both the easiest task and the one that you want to do least. 

The classroom is dead empty when you enter, not even your white bearded professor in sight. You scurry down the steps with the short story in hand, a meaningless piece about two strangers who share misty mornings. You hate it, just like you’ve grown to hate almost everything that you create, but it’s an assignment. It meets the bare minimum for what’s required on your rubric. You finished it.

“Miss (Y/n?)” Your body freezes in the middle of the final step before stuttering slowly back to normal. It probably looks stupid but you barely have the will to care, seeing as the thing that you were most dreading was happening. Your creative writing professor is standing at the top of the classroom with his long beard and judgmental eyes, and you are standing in front of his desk with shaky knees. 

“O-oh, hi! I was just turning in-”

“Why aren’t you enrolled in my class next semester?” You take in a breath, the air as thick as soup. You don’t know how to answer his question. You don’t want to answer his question. Answering his question feels like letting go of a piece of yourself.

“Oh, I-I dropped it. It’s just that I have other classes I need to take, a-and I’m not all that good so…” Your professor nods before furrowing his bushy eyebrows and starting slowly down the stairs. Each of his forward steps causes your heart to thump. 

“Who said that you aren’t good?” He questions, continuing down the steps. You clench the assignment in your hands and watch as the paper creases beneath your thumbs. When you look at the pages they’re clear, nothing but your words and margins, but when you think about what it’ll look like in a week you want to cry. It’ll be marked in red, with a fat red ‘C’ circled on the title page.

“I-I just, I never thought, Y-you said-” The professor is now standing in front of you with folded hands, his expression of confusion shifted into concern.

“I never said that you aren’t good.” You  breathe in again, the air thin enough to actually intake this time around. 

“You didn’t?” He shakes his head before pulling the crinkled assignment out of your hands.

“No, you show great promise as a writer! Your writing is… lacking, but it’s only in one area that can be easily improved upon. No great writers start out great, but all great authors show their flaws at one point.” Tears prickle the back of your eyelids, and it feels like there’s a little hand grappling onto whatever you thought you’d have to let go. 

“Miss (Y/n,) I’m trying to say that failure is okay. Getting less than a ‘B’ on your paper is okay, but you can’t stop trying.” He’s right, a part of you has known for a while that he’s right. Just because you got a bad grade in this class doesn’t mean that you’re bad at writing. Just because Mingi said no doesn’t mean that you’ll never feel deeply again. It just means that you need to keep trying.

“Oh, um… Thank you.” You’re not sure what else to say. There honestly isn’t much else to say, so you give him a short nod and head towards the stairs. You think that you’re going to head back to the dorm and cry on your bed, which is stripped of its duvet and most of the pillows. You think that you’re going to ask if you can have this class added back to your schedule. You think that you might speak with Hongjoong more often once your break is over. 

And sure enough, your spring semester begins with Hongjoong walking you across campus and to your second level creative writing class. The month away seems to have done good for the both of you, Hongjoong returning with dozens more customized clothing items and you with slowly disappearing eye bags. His hair is also faded into a lighter pink shade, which you think suits him quite well. 

Your walk to class is uneventful, riddled with small talk and basic catching up. Near the end he slips his arm beneath your book bag and around your waist, which feels nice enough. His arms are stronger than you expected. The half embrace is not unwelcome. When you two are standing outside of the quickly filling classroom he takes your hands into his own for a brief moment before asking if you’re free for coffee after class. You want to make up an excuse for why you can’t go, because you know that this isn’t just two friends going for coffee, but when you look at Hongjoong there are sparkles in his eyes. Pink hair tickles his cheekbone as he smiles warmly at you, and you find yourself thinking that his confidence right now is commendable. You also find yourself saying yes, you can definitely get coffee with. 

It’s a fun outing. He cracks a few jokes, you talk about class. He asks if you have any assignments and you say not yet. When he orders an iced coffee you ask if he’s trying to get frostbite, to which he laughs and pokes out his tongue. You think that he looks cute. You think that all of this is kind of cute. 

You also think that when you’re with Hongjoong, and he’s making you laugh and holding your waist, it’s very easy to forget about how badly you miss Mingi. 

*

When you agreed to re-enroll in your creative writing class you and your professor exchanged a number of emails. First about how you could improve your grade, then about how to improve your writing, then countless of other questions with ambiguous answers before the two of you finally settled on having weekly meetings. It would be sort of like he were your personal advisor, but only for writing. You would come into his office once a week to discuss your current project and he would read it over, ask if you had concerns, usually give some feedback. 

Within the first week it was clear what your most reoccurring critique would be. It was a mantra echoed many times, ‘To write life you have to live it.’ He said that your writing was good, pretty, but the characters lacked life. Then he asked if you could try to spend a little more time with people. It didn’t have to be much, but he was convinced that a bit more people time would improve your writing greatly. 

It’s been a month or so since that first meeting, and you weren’t sure if you agreed yet. You were spending almost everyday with Hongjoong, sometimes Seonghwa as well. You were definitely more tired each time you came home, but you also smiled more. Laughed more, too. They would often ask you for help with silly things, like the time that Hongjoong called you at midnight because he needed help touching up his hair, Seonghwa often asked you to mix his paints. It often felt like you were their third roommate, but it was okay. You had fun. 

Yet you didn’t see much improvement in your writing. There were still notes in red ink on your paper. You weren’t sure of the remedy you should apply, but more people time seemed like it wouldn’t hurt. So you set up daily lunches with Yeosang and Jongho, which was an interesting dynamic to say the least. Jongho would sit down most days and chug an entire reusable cup of green tea with soy milk before getting lunch, to which Yeosang would furrow his eyebrows and comment ‘I don’t know how he drinks that.’ Usually the younger boy would talk animatedly with you about classes then he’d ask if Yeosang had anything going on. Your dark haired friend would look up from his half inhaled plate of food with deep set eye bags and say that he had at least three papers to write. One time you asked if he was okay, but he just laughed and blamed it on his major. After that your writing seemed to improve greatly, at least according to your professor. He told you that it was starting to come alive much quicker. The only thing he had left to say was that your more gentle characters needed work. He said that they needed to be more than just gentle.

Running into Yunho in the library after that meeting was pure coincidence. You were headed to the back to start cracking down on some of your more challenging classes, namely entrance level biology, yet when you dropped your bag on your usual study table you noticed someone was already there. 

“Oh, I’m sorry! I’ll just-”

“(Y/n?)” He asked while turning to face you. It suddenly hit you that the last time Yunho had seen you was while you were at your absolute worst. Not sleeping, or eating, or talking to anyone but yourself. You don’t know if he’s going to let that version of you go. You only know how badly you want him to. 

“Yea, it’s me.” The words tug on your vocal chords so you cough lightly in an attempt to clear them, “How are you doing?” He twirls the blue gel pen in his hand for a moment before responding.

“I’m okay. The usual kind of busy, my room’s been messy lately. Just normal stuff.” Quiet settles over your conversation so that you’re left standing awkwardly in front of his neatly organized table. You’re not sure why you can’t bring yourself to speak, but you are sure that it has something to do with the fleeting thoughts of the boy that Yunho’s sharing that messy room with, “What’re you working on?” He asks, motioning with his gel pen to the stuffed folder in your hands.

“O-oh just some biology stuff, I have a quiz next week so…” Before you can say otherwise he’s clearing off a spot on the table and telling you to pull up a chair. He helps you with pretty much every half finished assignment. He even adds extra cheat codes onto your flash cards in crisp blue ink. As you’re leaving the library to get dinner with Hongjoong he tells you to meet him back here after your quiz.

“After all, I’d like to know how my best student is doing.” Weekly study sessions honestly come about naturally. He insists that he’s beyond happy to help, and you’re beyond happy to observe him. Listening to him talk is your favorite part. He’ll ramble on about a lab or being worried that someones going to steal his bike from in front of the dorms. He tells you that he thinks Hongjoong will ask you out, you tell him that you know. He says that your handwriting is pretty, you thank him. When he talks about things that make him angry his words are gentle and calculated, so as not to hurt people that aren’t even present. Needless to say, the red ink marks are few and far between after factoring this newfound knowledge into your pieces.

But you think that it’s a bit more than that too. For the first time in… Ever, you think, you’re happy. Not in a fleeting way that depends on strawberry ice cream eaten on Friday nights. You’re happy in a way that’s hard to tumble, and you’re happy in a way that’s without Mingi. You never thought that you would be happy without Mingi. All throughout high school you feared this very thing, having to live without him and be okay with it. Now that you’re doing it, it’s not all that scary.

You still see Mingi around campus from time to time, in curls of chestnut hair and broad shoulders. Sometimes when you’re walking to class with Hongjoong you can hear his laugh bouncing from the surrounding buildings. Part of you wonders if you’re just conjuring him up. Part of you wonders when it’ll stop. 

Hongjoong does ask you out, just like Wooyoung, and Yunho, and everyone predicted. You say yes. You laugh with your friends until your sides hurt. You share kisses with your boyfriend. You start to feel excited about life in a way that you never have, and a part of you honestly wonders if this whole thing with Mingi was just a growing pain. Something that needed to happen in order for you to change.

The aching of your chest at night says otherwise. But believing as much is easier to stomach.

*

You’re relaxing at Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s house when a nerve is struck. You'd been sitting at the table chatting with Seonghwa while Hongjoong made himself something for lunch. It was really an accident, you had just been telling Seonghwa about your study session with Yunho when he got onto the topic about an awkward study date he had been on recently. You laughed as he recounted it and assured him that a study date was a cute first date.

“I’m sure it’s not as cute as whatever you and Hongjoong did.” And that’s when it happens. The chord is played, the line is written, and Hongjoong was looking at you with wide, apologetic eyes, “Y-you did have a good first date, right?” Your boyfriend said nothing, just bit his lower lip and returned his attention to the stove, “You’ve been dating for a month, you had to have had a first date. Right?”

“I’m sure that we will.” The tension that followed your meek statement was painstaking. First Hongjoong inhaled sharply through his nose, then Seonghwas mouth pressed into a thin line while his eyebrows raised. He muttered some nonsense about needing to get started on his painting for realism class. Apparently he was in such a rush to leave that he forgot that he wasn’t even taking a realism class, “Look, Joong we don’t have to-”

“Do you want a cutesy first date?” He asked, turning away from his food once again so that his eyes could bore into your own. You weren’t sure if his voice was stern in that moment or sincere, either way it was maddeningly effective.

“I mean… It would be nice.” He raised an eyebrow and nodded with his tongue in his cheek before returning to his food. Once it’s done and the fragrance is drifting from his workplace and towards the table, he takes the seat across from you. You’re about to say something but then he presses a swift kiss onto your lips.

“Then you, my darling, are getting just that.” 

A cutesy first date, with your sweet boyfriend who brings you tons of joy. It sounds great in theory, except for the fact that it’s been a week since your conversation and he still refuses to tell you when or where the date will be. Some may say that it’s romantic, but you say that it’s stressful. Pretty much every time that you leave your dorm room you end up seeing Hongjoong, so pretty much every time that you leave the dorm room you’re fully dressed and ready to go out. You’re starting to think that he’s finding joy in your suffering. It’s not too drastic of a belief, seeing as every time that you open your dorm room in a new outfit he giggles and whispers ‘cute.’ 

The miniature cat and mouse game finally comes to an end about a week and a half later, when he texts you Friday morning that you should wear something cute today and to be ready for pick up at five thirty. Though, the suffering doesn’t really end because in reality you spend the entire day raking through your closet for anything that could possibly make a cute outfit. There’s the cursed red plaid dress that you wore to that house party and awful confession oh so many months ago. You figured that was a no go, but honestly what else did you even have? There’s a uniform skirt that you bought while thrifting with Hongjoong, but you weren’t sure what shirt to wear with it. Your favorite jeans were in the wash so those obviously weren’t an option. It looked like it was going to have to be that dumb little dress.

But it’s not so bad, you manage to pair it with a black cardigan and the pair of leather boots that your mom got you for Christmas to replace the old ones. You also do more makeup than last time, so it really doesn’t look all that similar. When you look in the mirror before answering Hongjoongs knock you’re barely even thinking about the last night that you wore the dress. You’re thinking about tonight… Mostly about tonight.

You open the door to see your boyfriend wearing a black button up and blue hair that catches you off guard. His hands are shoved cutely into his pockets, you can see his thumbs twiddling from inside his jean pockets. The moment that his eyes take in your frame his face breaks out into a wide smile. It’s a familiar smile at this point, he wears it around you constantly.

“You look amazing.” He says beneath his breath. You watch with twinkling eyes as he examines every one of your features, your smiles growing with each passing moment.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” You're not sure what to do past this point. He’s said that you look nice, you’ve internally fawned over his new hair that looks so incredibly soft, you’ve looked each other once or twice and smiled. You don’t know if you’re supposed to kiss him now, or hold his hand, or what. This is all quite new, “Um, should we get going?” He looks back at your face with a jump, as though your question had pulled him out of something. You’re going to ask what, but you aren’t quite sure how to get the words out. 

“Yes, yea! I-I’ll lead the way.” After five minutes of walking around your familiar campus you arrive at the shuttle. You’ve only taken it once or twice in your time here, mainly to get to Hongjoong’s house at the edge of campus, but you do know that on weekends it will take you into the nearby city. There’s only one seat left by the time that you get on, so of course Hongjoong let’s you have it and opts to stand instead. 

“You can sit if you want to.” He immediately shuts down your offer with a quick peck to your lips and a sweet giggle that you’ve grown to adore. 

“It’s our first date, I can’t have you thinking that I’m anything less than a gentleman.” If he weren’t so endearing you’d point out that you’ve been together for over a month. But he is endearing, so you only laugh and take hold of his hand. 

The date ends up being pretty much perfect. He takes you to a small cat cafe that’s tucked away on the downtown streets of the city, something that you didn’t even know existed until this very night. The inside is fully decorated in light pink with white lighting that highlights your adorable boyfriends features. He’s so sweet the whole time, smiling and letting the cats curl up in lap. The two of you share a piece of cake, he smears a little bit of the stiff frosting onto your nose. It’s cute. Sweet. You return to the dorm room with hot cheeks and a bashful grin.

“I had a lot of fun.” You say to him while leaning up against the doorframe of your dorm room. He smiles, but it’s different from the smile that you usually see. He’s usually so confident and sure of himself, but in this fleeting moment you can see unsureness in his features. It’s almost like he didn’t think you’d like the date.

“Yea?” You nod as quickly as he can ask. It’s not clear why, but you feel the need to assure him that you enjoyed your time together, “I’m glad. We could do something like this every week, you know?” 

The response isn’t as quick this time, or as adamant. You want to say yes. You had fun tonight, you enjoy spending time with Hongjoong, you want to say yes. But there’s something holding you back. It’s gentle, tugging on your heartstrings like a haunting winter melody. It tastes of strawberry ice cream, and smells of Song Mingi’s basement. You still remember the first time that he proposed a weekly movie night, all those years ago. You still remember how wanted it made you feel. At times you wonder if anyone will make you feel as wanted as Mingi did.

You’re starting to wonder that now, even as Hongjoong catches his thumb beneath your chin so as to tilt your chin up. The thoughts don't waver until your eyes meet, and you think that you’re probably right. No one will make you feel as wanted as Mingi; but Hongjoong does make you feel wanted. It’s not as overwhelming as Mingi. It’s not as safe as Mingi. It’s not as fateful as Migni. But it is there.

“What do you think? About the weekly thing, I mean. Like how does that sound?” Mingi was everything to you. In many ways he is still, but he’s also gone. Hongjoong is most things, but at least he’s here.

“It sounds lovely.”

*

You’ve spent a lot of time thinking in the past few weeks, pretty much ever since Hongjoong started with the dates. It’s mostly when you come back to your dorm after them and lay belly up on your loft bed, eyes glazing over the ceiling tiles that you’re pretending to count. Sometimes you think about Hongjoong, the way that his smile overpowers his face. The way that he laughs whenever he flusters you. The way he takes time out of his week to plan these cute little dates with you. Sometimes you think about Hongjoong. But most of the time you don’t. 

Most of the time you find your thoughts wandering far out of reach, and most of the time they wander straight into Song Mingi. It starts with thinking that you miss his presence, the way that he jumps to help anyone with anything. The way that his eyes shine each time you call out his name. You miss the way that he gives hugs, all warm and inviting. Some nights if you focus hard enough you can even remember the way that he smells. Orange zest and cinnamon.

If you’re honest with yourself, you know that this isn’t fair to Hongjoong. You like him well enough, but he adores you. He calls you darling and kisses you as though the action is sacred. He always walks you home after every date even though his own house is so far away. In theory, he is perfect. You’ve been dating for close to two months, you should be fully head over heels by now. But you can’t give that to him, and you know it. You also know that you can’t be alone again.

“Darling?” Hongjoong questions, pulling you away from your thoughts and back into the present. The two of you are cuddled into a far corner of the couch, midday sun pouring through the tall windows and landing across your boyfriend's face. You were watching the light dance in his eyes and talking about your latest creative writing meeting, but then he started talking about having another dinner party at the house. He said that it’d be like the one that he and Seonghwa hosted at the beginning of the school year, where you came with Mingi. It’s kind of funny honestly, because he regards that as one of the nights where he first started to like you. You regard it as one of the nights where Mingi first started to hate you, “Is everything okay?”

You should tell him no, because that’s the truth. You’re not okay. You don’t know if you’ll ever get over Mingi. You don’t think that you’ll ever love Hongjoong the way that he so clearly loves you. You shouldn’t lie to him. You should tell him no.

You also shouldn’t be alone again, right?

“Yea! I’m just tired. That’s all.”

*

In retrospect, you should’ve asked Hongjoong to not invite Mingi to this house party. It would’ve sounded odd, sure. As far he knew you and Mingi were still friendly. Had you requested that Mingi wouldn’t be invited you probably would’ve ended up having to rehash the entirety of your history. It would probably leave your boyfriend questioning whether or not you still had feelings for Mingi, a question that you’d have to lie through your teeth to answer. It would’ve been a little bit awkward, sure. But at least you wouldn’t be where you are now.

You fall gracelessly onto Hongjoongs unmade double bed, hands flying up to cover your flustered face. Mingi arrived at the off campus house nearly two hours after all of the other guests. There was an small window where you thought that you were safe, in which you took time to talk with San and Wooyoung while grazing over the cheese board that Seonghwa had set out. You felt like a true adult in that narrow window, the kind that works a nine to five job and deals with their problems. Then Mingi arrived. Two hours late.

You watched carefully as his eyes bounced around the room. They landed first on Yunho, who engulfed the boy in a warm hug before returning to his previous conversation. Then they traveled to the sectional couch in the living room where Seonghwa sat with Yeosang. He offered them a short greeting while walking through the living room, face crinkling with laughter at something that Yeosang had said. You find it comforting that after so much time apart his laughter hasn’t changed. He filtered naturally out of the conversation before moving to stand beside the tv. You watched his eyes move deftly across the open floor plan and began to wonder what he’s looking for so eagerly. Maybe it’s the girl from his math class. Maybe it’s someone entirely different. His gaze wandered and wandered, covering every corner that it could reach before finally landing. Before finally landing on you.

His eyes were piercing yet kind, stripping away the facade that you had previously believed. You aren’t an adult. You’re a little girl that got pushed off of her barbie bike and had to have a lanky preteen come to her rescue. You’re the idiot who lit dozens of tea light candles in her dorm room just to be turned away. It feels like you’re being stripped of your skin, but it also feels like you’re being reminded of yourself.

“Are you okay?” Jongho asked. You were so occupied with Mingi that you didn’t even realize he had joined. His question was sobering though, pulling you back to the harsh reality that you are okay. And you’re okay without Mingi.

“Yea, I’m fine.” You tore your focus back to the group in front of you, who were all staring at you. They clearly didn’t buy your answer, and you didn’t blame them too much. Anyone who didn’t know you could see that you were distressed, so clearly three of your close friends could tell, “I-I just realized that I have a paper due tonight. I’m gonna go finish it in Hongjoong’s room.” 

You now find yourself praying that Hongjoong won’t try to come and find you. You don’t know how to lie about this to him. You don’t know how to look him in the eyes and make up a reason for why you freaked out and left the party. By some terrible coincidence the door handle starts to jiggle. You want to say that you think through all of the possibilities of what you’ll say to him, but in reality there’s only one option of what you’ll say. The truth. If Hongjoong were to come into his room right now and ask what’s wrong you would have to tell him the truth. That you love Mingi.

“Hey honey, I had a paper to finish and-” The person that comes through the narrow doorway is much taller than your boyfriend. His shoulders are broader. The slope of his nose goes down further. Even from here you can smell brown sugar and oranges, “Oh. It’s you.” He looks handsome as ever. His cheeks may be a bit slimmer, the bags beneath his eyes are a bit deeper, but he still looks like Mingi. His face is still your childhood.

“Yea. It’s me.” Silence falls over the room, squeezing tightly around the chords of your throat to the point where you think that they’re going to break, “I-I just saw you come in here and-”

“I have a paper.” He swallows harshly, hands shoving into his pockets as his eyes stay glued to the floor. You find that bit funny, seeing as when you were outside he wanted to look nowhere but you.

“Right. A paper. I’ll leave you to that, then.” He’s moving to leave, and in that moment you know nothing. You’re not entirely sure what your name is, or where left is in relation to right, but you do know one thing. You don’t want Mingi to leave. You don’t want him to leave. He’s barely been here for two minutes. You haven’t said a single thing that you wanted to say. He can’t leave.

“Wait!” The boy stops in his tracks before turning. His eyes finally meet yours again, they’re  questioning and so gentle that you almost think things could go back to normal, “I don’t have a paper due tonight. Well, I do but I did it two days ago. It’s just that when I saw you I-I… I panicked. Probably because we haven’t seen each other in months. Probably because I really, really, miss you.” Your eyes are slowly becoming tearful, but you really don’t want them to be. You’ve shed so many tears over this relationship. You should be able to do this. The fact that he’s not saying anything doesn’t make it any easier, but still. You should be able to do this, “You don’t have to say anything, I guess, but I-I’m glad that I said it. You were my best friend, I’ll always think of you in that way. I know that we’ve both said… Things, and I get that you might not be able to move past that, but I’m willing to. If it means that we can be friends again, I’m willing to.” Your eyes somehow became glued to your twiddling thumbs over the course of your speech. You don’t think that you’re going to move them, until you feel a pair of strong arms embracing you. He smells so good, like he always does. This one hug feels like all of the comfort that you’ve craved for the last six months. Like the comfort that only Mingi can bring you.

“I’ll move past it. I-I’ve missed you too.” His voice is low, crackling like a fresh log that’s been thrown into the fireplace. You spend the following two hours in Hongjoongs room. You’re curled up on the bed and he’s in front of the disheveled desk. It’s dodgy, you know that it is, but something about really being here with Mingi makes you forget about all of that mess. It’s much easier to forget about it. You eventually return to the party, floating in between conversations with all of your friends. It’s nice to not have to avoid Mingi. At one point Hongjoong joins your conversation with Mingi, San, and Wooyoung. He puts an arm around your waist, which you should enjoy. You would like to enjoy it, but your mind is slightly preoccupied. 

“Where’d you go earlier, darling?” He whispers into your ear halfway through a drawn out story that San is sharing. He’s always been awful at telling stories, but he gets so excited that everyone lets it slide. 

“Oh! I just had a paper that I needed to finish, so I went and did that in your room.” He wants to ask why you had to do that with Mingi, but then the other boy starts to laugh and he knows the answer. Based entirely off of the way that you look at him, Hongjoong knows. 

Once everyone has left and you’ve all shared your goodbyes, Hongjoong suggests that the two of you clean up the living room together. It was an hour or so of silence before he brought up the elephant in the room. 

“I’m not it for you. Am I?” You don’t know why you thought he’d be angry with you. Probably because he’d have every reason to be so. But this is Hongjoong. You could single handedly send the world into ruin and Hongjoong still wouldn’t get mad at you. 

“I really want you to be.” You’ve stopped cleaning now, hands lying limp over the small stain that you were previously scrubbing off of the couch. Getting dumped isn’t going at all how you always thought that it would. It doesn’t feel like your heart is being trampled. You don’t have the compulsive urge to cry. No, none of that. It just feels like you’re explaining away a weight that’s been on your chest for months, “Does that make sense?”

“I think that you wish you wanted me. I think that you wanted me more than you wanted to be alone.” He’s started to play with the strings of his hoodie in a hopeless attempt to calm his raging heart, “But you’re not alone anymore, are you?” You could pretend that you don’t know what he’s talking about. You could deny it, but in reality there’s no point to any of that. It would only prolong all of this, so you nod, “Yeah. Thought so.”

When you say goodbye to him he hugs you tighter than usual, you think for a minute that he’s going to tell you something else. He doesn’t. Just kisses your forehead and says to get home safely. You do, it’s a mere twenty minutes before you’re tiptoeing into your dorm room and up the ladder to your bed. It almost gets to the point where you pretend to count ceiling tiles, but then your phone buzzes from beneath your pillow. It’s a text from Mingi, a short and sweet message.

‘I’m glad to be your friend:)’ 

It’s probably stupid, seeing as the night ended on a terribly sour note, but those few words and that silly emoticon makes it feel like this entire year has been worth it. Because you have Mingi again, and there’s no way that you’ll lose him this time around.

*

After the breakup with Hongjoong, you were slightly worried that no one would want to be friends with you anymore. It would certainly be a fair decision on their part, seeing as you were beyond awful as a girlfriend. You thought that in Hongjoong’s healing, he would end up telling some of the worst things that you did to some of the people whose opinions matter the most. You’re not sure why you thought that, perhaps because it’s what you would’ve done if someone did this to you.

You’re more immature than he is, though. Hongjoong handles his feelings with grace. His words are unbelievably careful whenever he shares them, or at least that’s what Seonghwa says. He also says that he misses having you around to mix his paints and clean his brushes. You had told him that you were just glad that he still likes you, even if the wounds were only a month old.

There was also the ever present worry that Mingi would ask why you and Hongjoong split. You’ve thought of plenty of fake reasons, like saying that the two of you didn’t really click. Or you could keep it simple and say that it just wasn’t the right time for either of you. The options were endless, but there was the problem of Mingi being able to read you like an open book. He would surely know that you’re lying, possibly before you even opened your mouth. The main risk involved was whether or not he’d pester you for the truth. 

That constant fear was not helpful for a regrowing relationship, to say the least. You’ve hung out a number of times since reuniting, but he would always ask you about what you did in the months that you spent apart. Obviously, mentioning the end of first semester was strictly off limits. The rest of the time you spent with Hongjoong, so that left very little room for conversation. You would mostly end up talking about your creative writing meetings, which was fine. It was just sparse.

But this weekend would be different. The two of you had made plans nearly two weeks ago to carpool home together after spring midterms for the long weekend. Your immediate response was to panic, because what on earth would the two of you talk about for the hours that it took to drive home? How would you possibly avoid talking about any of your life for the past four months for that long? But as the days drew closer you realized that maybe it wasn’t such a big deal. The two of you used to go on fun drives constantly, and most of the time you’d barely talk at all. This would be fine. You could manage this.

He picks you up an hour after the exams are concluded, and much to your gratitude there’s music already blaring from each of the speakers. He motions through the window for you to put your bags in the backseat, which you do before sliding into the front seat of his car. 

“Hey.” He’s looking at you with a soft smile when he says this, the gentleness of his face juxtaposed against the disney channel music blaring from the speakers is enough to make you laugh. So you do, the sound falling from your lips in a way that reminds Mingi of how dearly he missed it.

“Hi.” You stare at him for a minute, and he stares back. You find yourself thinking that all of this is mighty odd. Just two months ago you didn’t think that you’d ever have the strength to talk about Mingi again, now the two of you are sitting in the same car, “We’re listening to High School Musical?” He laughs too, passing his phone into your lap while shaking his head of brown curls.

“For now yes, you can change it if you’d like.” If you didn’t know him then you would’ve missed the twinkle in his eyes which indicated that he was going to continue, “Only if it’s Hannah Montana, though.” 

The ride was full with playful banter and off key high notes. Each time Mingi would go to hit one he’d tilt his head back ever so slightly, the brake lights of the car in front of you catching on the delicate lines of his adams apple as he did so. You would laugh until you had to clench your stomach then chastise him for not keeping his eyes on the road. He never once tried to ask about what you’ve been up to, or ask about Hongjoong. In a way, you almost forgot about it for the long hours that it took to drive into your hometown. Mingi seemed to have that effect, like walking through a museum of all of the things that he made you feel for the beginning of your lifetime. Comforted. Carefree. Joyful.

The car slows down then turns, and even if you weren’t looking up you’d know exactly where this car was headed. It’s the place that you spent every late friday night, the place where burgers couldn’t be served without a milkshake on the side, the place where Mingi first knew that he would always love you no matter how hard he ran from it. The chrome on the outside of the diner looks exactly the same, and when you peer through the windows it’s even more familiar. Red cushioned seats, a jukebox in the corner, salt and pepper in mismatched porcelain dispensers on each table. It feels like you’re coming from a football game with sweaty hair and a quickly beating heart. It feels like you’re still a kid.

“Are you hungry?” You ask teasingly as Mingi turns off the car and undoes his seatbelt. He runs a hand through his hair, laughing lowly.

“More like thirsty, milkshakes on me?” You know how this is going to end. You know what paying for food and offering up rides indicates. You know that this could crash and burn and leave you utterly devastated for months. But you also know that you’ve changed. That you’re finally done living a loveless life in honor of your own comfort. You think that he’s changed too, less bitter now. You’re both finished with hurting each other, so maybe it could end up hurting exactly the way that it did last time. Maybe it’ll end up working out. The fact of the matter is that you’ll never know what falling feels like unless you jump.

“Milkshakes on you.” You respond with a purely happy smile. He smiles too, the kind that breaks across his entire face until it can’t possibly get any bigger. You’ve missed that smile so much, “Hongjoong and I broke up by the way. I’m sure that you already knew that, but I wanted to tell you myself.” He nods once, then purses his lips, then begins to play with his own fingertips. It’s too early for you to get a read on him, but you do think that he already knew. You also think that he’s trying to hide his happiness.

“Thank you for telling me.” He pinches his lips shut and swallows before continuing, “Are you okay?” He reaches out to hold your hand before he can even think about it, but it doesn’t seem to make you uncomfortable. You take his hand and squeeze it gently then slowly set it back down to lay on his thigh.

“I’m fine. I’ll be even better once I get a milkshake.” 

Conversation flows more naturally after that, the both of you talking about nothing and everything at the same time. He tells you about the time that Yunho made a hotdog explode in their microwave. You share one of your many anecdotes from lunch with Yeosang and Jongho. He asks about what you’ve been writing lately and so you tell him briefly about your work in progress and the meetings with your teacher. The entire time while you’re talking he beams at you with pride. You had always loved writing so much.

You finish your milkshakes and he tips the waitress extra. You drive the remainder of the way to your house, Hannah Montana still blaring from his speakers. It’s unbelievably stupid and childish, but at the same time it’s absolutely perfect. He pulls into your driveway and lets out a heavy sigh, hands smacking against the steering wheel.

“Well. You’re home!” He doesn’t really want you to go, despite having driven all this way specifically to watch you leave. Something about the look in your eyes, and the fact that it’s directed straight at him, makes him think that you don’t want to leave either. 

“I’m home.” You unbuckle your seatbelt and get out of the car before Mingi can even think of another thing to say. He maneuvers a bit in his seat so that he can see you as your picking up your stuff and think of something to say, “Thanks for the ride, I’ll-”

“Do you want to start up movie nights again?” He wasn’t exactly planning on asking you that, but he was planning to ask if you could spend more time together. It’s been so long without you that he wants to spend as much time with you as possible, “In my room, on Saturdays. And I’ll never stand you up or reschedule at the last minute.” Your heart is hammering, you don’t even bother to pretend that you don’t know why. The boy in front of you is stammering and over explaining and turning red in the face, and you are terribly in love with him.  

“I’d like that very much.” With that simple agreement, it feels as though the entire world has been set back into place.

*

You didn’t realize how much junk a dorm room could accumulate in the span of a year until it was time to clean all of it out. There were schedules to peel off of the walls, clothes to dig out from the back of the closet, phone chargers that had fallen behind night stands. It’s weird to look at it now, with all of the homeliness and personality stripped away. Next year there will be two entirely different people sleeping in the loft beds, which you admittedly grew used to. Maybe they’ll be strangers. Maybe they’ll be best friends.

“That’s the last box.” Mingi enters the emptied room right as your eyes move to the empty bed that had been adjacent to yours for the entire year. Your roommate had left early this morning, her things had been packed for weeks already. The two of you never grew any closer to one another, but you didn’t mind. Coexisting with her felt like one of your many growth challenges throughout this year, “You missing your roommate?” Mingi asked with a cocked eyebrow, making you realize that you’re still staring at her stripped bed.

“No, not really.” Your voice comes out so matter of fact that it makes Migni giggle a little bit. He thinks that it’s nice to see you, who was once so meek and quiet, being adamant about not caring for someone, “I’m grateful for her though. I didn’t think that I’d be able to live with a stranger before this year. I didn’t think I’d be able to do lots of things before this year.” You finally move your eyes to the boy standing at your side to see that he’s staring at you with a proud smile. It makes your chest swell with warmth in a way that you don’t even fight against, “What?” You can’t help but break out into a smile as you gaze even longer at his.

“Nothing, I’m just really proud of us. Who we’ve become, especially you.” His pinky finger brushes up against your own, for a moment you can feel his hand aching to hold your own. You open up your palm and lace your fingers into his, moving with certainty and purpose, “I like who you are now, you’re a lot bolder. Happier.” Your body flushes with heat, heart pattering so erratically that you’re sure he can hear it. You hope that he does. 

“I-I like you now too.” Your voice wavers as his hand travels to your wrist, pulling you gently so that you’re facing each other. His face looks stern, like this moment is do or die, yet his eyes sparkle with the same childlike twinkle as always. You watch his eyes travel from your own to your lips in a mere second, breath hitching in the back of your throat. You’ve waited for this for such a long time, but as his nose brushes ever so gently against yours you find yourself thinking that it was worth it, “May I?” The question is whisper, your breath ghosting against Mingi’s plump lips. You place your hand on his chest so that his heart is thumping beneath your hand. 

“Yes.” You hook your free hand beneath his chin and bring his face closer to yours so that your lips are finally touching. It’s nothing but a gentle brush at first, both of you timid and overly careful, but as soon as you try to pull away his hands are on your waist and pulling you closer than you thought was possible. He kisses you with fever, hands gripping you as though he’s scared that you might melt away. You bury your fists into his shirt, trying desperately to let him know that he never has to worry about that again. 

He pulls away after sometime, hands moving to hold your face as he rests his forehead on yours. He says nothing, only brushes his thumb against your cheek and smiles. In the quiet moments, you can make out the blurred lines of a future, one that’s spent in a modest apartment that’s decorated with all of the junk that Mingi just hauled downstairs for you. You can see late nights spent writing at a desk that’s full of his trinkets. You can see weekly movie nights on the couch with blankets and twinkling fairy lights. You can see a life that’s lived with love and passion, a life where pains are forgotten and growth is left in their place.

When he smiles at you and goes in for a second kiss, your eyes flutter closed. Yet you still see it all so clearly. You can see a future, and you can see it with Mingi by your side.

[plus-size-reader]

Breaking Protocol

Spencer Reid x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2151 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: Spencer kept in touch with the daughter of a serial killer they took down. They think there's a copycat which brings them to her door once again

——————————————————————————————————

As a general rule, the BAU team didn’t keep in very much contact with the people they saved. The victims' families, or sometimes the victims themselves were kept at arm's length, due to protocol. 

However, protocol never said anything about the Unsub’s families. 

Your father, a gruesome and heinous serial killer, who murdered your mother along with seventeen other women had brought the FBI’s behavioral analysis unit to your door. 

It was your sparkling wit and kind eyes that kept one Dr.Spencer Reid there for far beyond when the case had ended. 

There was something special about you, something that Spencer recognized almost immediately, but the more he spoke to you, the more pain he found behind those kind eyes that drew him in. 

You were in constant pain, a constant pain that you couldn’t avoid. Everytime you closed your eyes, you saw him there, the way they found him when you called the police. He was covered in blood, holding a knife, poised over her body. 

You didn’t even know her. You had never seen her before in your life, but there she was, lying dead on the kitchen floor. 

And yet, you remained as gentle as anyone could have been. It confused Spencer, and naturally he wanted to know what it was that made you that way. 

So he kept coming to visit you, even months after your father’s initial arrest. He just wanted to make sure you were okay, for whatever reason. 

It didn’t make any sense and he was painfully aware of that but it wasn’t something he had any control over. He cared about you and that was never going to change. 

...For whatever reason. 

At this point, you two didn’t speak much with Spencer only making monthly visits when he was in the area and calling at least once a week to check up on you. 

Until today. 

You had heard a few things here and there on the news, but you kept away from all that nasty stuff to avoid the nightmares. It was hard for someone with your past to ever really move on.

That had become clear to you but the point wasn’t that you were moving on, it was that you were doing your best. 

It was all you could do.

Though, all thoughts came falling away as soon as you heard that knock on your door. It was familiar and you couldn’t have mistaken it but that didn’t confuse you any less.

Spencer wasn’t supposed to be in the area for another week or so, but there was no one else who knocked that way. It was a signature of Reid’s so that you knew it was him. 

He liked to have a special thing between just the two of you. 

Not that it helped you in any way right now. 

“You aren’t supposed to be here for another week-” you started, swinging the door open without hesitation, only stopping when you realized Spencer wasn’t alone. 

In fact, he couldn’t have been farther from it. There were three men standing on your doorstep, each holding badges up to your screen with muted intentions. You had no idea what this was about, but it didn’t really matter. 

Knowing Spencer as well as you did, you knew it was only a matter of time before he filled you in with more detail than anyone could have ever needed. 

“Sorry, I should have called first” he shrugged, knowing that a heads up would have been nice but this whole thing had to be by the books and nothing was going to change that. 

Not even how much he cared about you. 

“Not a problem at all, what can I do for you?” you wondered, opening the door to them, letting them slip into your house without hesitation. Whatever it was they needed to talk about, you weren’t worried. 

Spencer had made it very clear that if there was any development in your father’s case or something changed, he was going to make sure you knew before anyone else. 

Even if it meant breaking protocol, which he did frequently where you were concerned. 

This was going to be a hard conversation to have, and Reid knew that, but luckily he knew you well enough to know that you could handle it. You were adults, and you weren’t living under some illusion over who your father was. 

You knew that he was a monster, and you also knew that he was going to spend the rest of his life rotting in prison. Still, having to relive the things he’d done was going to be had. 

After all, you were sure that you’d put that all behind you after he was locked up. 

“Y/N, we have to talk about your father” Spencer started, counting on Alvez to let him take the lead on this whole thing. They weren’t sure what exactly it was going on between the two of you, but they could tell you had a bond. 

It might have been odd, but if it could help them find whoever was committing these murderers, no one was about to stop him. 

“Why? Did something happen?” you asked, terrified that perhaps he’d gotten out or something had happened. It horrified you, but you knew well enough to keep calm. 

Whatever it was that was going on, you just had to trust that Spencer was going to take care of you. Besides, there was no way your dad had managed to get out of there. 

He had been locked in max security a few years ago and wasn’t ever getting out. That was what Spencer had assured you and that was what you needed to be the case. 

You had to make this work.

“Not exactly. There have been a series of murders following your father’s original schematic. All signs point to a-” 

“A copycat?” you filled in, fully aware that must have been what he was alluding to. It had always been a fear of yours, something you had talked to Spencer about a few times but you never thought it could actually happen. 

After all, what kind of person could actually idolize the monster you were forced to call family? You had always assumed that no one would be that sick, but clearly you were wrong. 

Someone had an interest in his brutality.

“Yeah, and I was hoping you could help me? No one knew him better than you, after all. If anyone could get inside his head, it would be you” Spencer informed, giving you that look he always did when you talked about the past. 

He didn’t like it. 

It hurt him to have to see you relive all those horrible memories, but it was just something you had to do. He wouldn’t ask if he didn’t absolutely need your help, and you knew that. 

You knew that he needed you, and you weren’t about to turn your back on him. 

So, you nodded.

Whatever it was that Spencer needed you to do, you would be able to figure it out with him by your side. 

~ “Do you want to talk about it? Before I bring you into the bureau, I mean?” he asked, sitting down beside you at your dining room table, where you were staring out your kitchen window. 

You had been like that since the rest of the team left, content with the fact that Spencer was going to bring you to the BAU after having a brief conversation with you.

Though, it had become clear by that point that the conversation was going to be anything but brief. 

“Talk about what Spence? My dad and all those girls he murdered? The fact that somebody is taking a page out of his handbook? Or we could talk about the simple fact that even locked up, he’s ruining my life” 

Your words were a ramble at best but that didn’t make it any harder for Spencer to piece together what you were getting at. This was hard on you and no one knew that better than him.

You were completely different when your dad was around, even from behind bulletproof glass, and it was only natural that you tried to avoid all mention of him.

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m not going to let anything happen to you” he assured, reaching out to take your hand in his own, a strange gesture coming from him. Even with you, Spencer had never been too keen on that. 

Perhaps it would have been comforting, had you been worried about you. Though, you couldn’t have been worried about yourself at a time like this. You were really just having a hard time believing this. 

How was it possible that someone was going to do this? Of all the things your dad was, a role model wouldn’t even make the list. 

“I’m not worried about that Spencer, I’m worried about everybody else” you sighed, trying to rationalize why in the world they would even need you for all of this. 

Spencer knew your father’s M.O and case like the back of his hand, and probably better, after everything you had been through together and any information you had, Spencer had too. 

It was all locked up in his beautiful brain, and besides, it could be so dangerous for you two to be in the BAU together. After all, you didn’t know what kind of trouble Spencer could get into for keeping contact with you all this time. 

It may have been against some kind of rule or protocol for all you knew. 

“Tell me the truth Spencer, why do you want me to be part of this so bad?” you wondered, knowing that if it was just for information, they didn’t really need you. 

You just had a feeling that there had to be something more going on, and as well as you knew him, you knew better than to believe that Spencer could avoid the truth with you for that long. 

Not after all the time you two had spent together. 

“I think you may have something new to add-” he started, but you stopped him before he could get further into whatever he was going to say. You didn’t have to have to be a genius to know that he had some kind of ulterior motive. 

You just had to figure out what it was. 

“We both know you don’t need me for that Spencer. What is this really about?” you hummed, turning your attention away from the window completely. Whatever this was, there had to be some reason he was keeping it from you. 

After all, he had never kept anything from you before. Under the circumstances of which you two met, nothing else really seemed that important. 

This was the first time you had ever known Spencer to hesitate where the truth was concerned.  

...But eventually the truth came. 

“Fine. I want to keep you safe” 

It was nothing more than a whisper but you caught it just fine due to the close proximity between the two of you. Now, you were much less concerned with the copycat or anything else. 

Instead, you were focused on the emotion on Spencer’s face and the obvious distress there. 

Something was wrong, “If a copycat is deeply obsessed with your father, there is a good chance that they will want you or at least, victimize you” he warned, running his hands through his hair gingerly. 

He could hardly breathe just thinking about what could happen to you. Your father never went after you because you were off limits for him but he killed his victims that bore a strong resemblance to you. 

If your father killed surrogates in your place, there was no reason to think someone idolizing him wouldn’t go after you. They would lack the personal connection that kept your dad from hurting you. 

…And Spencer wasn’t about to let that happen. 

It made sense, but you also didn’t understand why he cared so much. Though, before you could tell him that you thought it was silly, you realized that the hold Spencer had on your hand had only tightened when talking about it. 

He was scared. 

Realizing that stopped all joking and teasing in their tracks, as you thought about it. Spencer genuinely believed that you were in danger and had interwoven you into the investigation to keep you under close watch. 

“Okay Spence. Let me pack a bag” you decided, before stepping away to grab a change of clothes and some of your essentials. If this was so important to him, it wouldn’t kill you to make him feel better. 

After all, it wasn’t every day that you saw Spencer that shook up. You just had to hope that staying with him for a few days would be enough to convince him that you weren’t in any danger. 

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 20

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N: enjoy xxx

NEXT CHAPTER

Y/N was sat on the floor of her bathroom, leaned against the absurd quantity of objects barricading her door. She would be alright, she would be alright. Only someone with super strength could break through it ... or an axe. As that thought crossed her head all she could think of was of a little memory of her childhood. She and her younger brother had padded down the stairs to where his parents were watching a movie she would later learn it was the Shinning. She couldn’t forget the scream she had let out as she saw Jack break through the door using an axe and right now, right now all she could think of was that, something breaking through her door and harming her.

She looked at everything in her bathroom thinking of what she could use as a weapon to defend herself. Suddenly her friends back home forcing her to choose reusable razors were her best of friends. She could probably arm someone with the razor blade or try to stab them with eyebrow scissors. Bucky had once told her the damage doesn’t need to be big, only in the right place.

She continued to stay sat down, mumbling to herself she would be fine until she heard footsteps. They were loud, heavy and echoey. Her breathing stopped, hands over her mouth fully knowing any sound would give away her location. However was walking in her flat kept walking and the steps got closer and closer until there was a knock on her door.

     - Y/N? Y/N, it’s Steve. Open the door. - her heart returned to beating, breath normalising as she broke through her barricade, opening the door. It was really Steve, standing in front of her and was this another situation, she wouldn’t know what to act but right now, right now he was the best thing that could’ve arrived.

Steve however seemed to lose colour to his face as the mirror became visible to him. Bucky hadn’t told him what was written in the mirror and if he didn’t know, he wouldn’t definitely be pleased about it. 

    - I checked the flat, there’s no one here. Whoever wrote that isn’t inside the flat, you’re safe. - he put his hands in his back pocket, seemingly conflicted of what to do or what to say. His eyes whoever were glued on those words, scribbled in big letters, tarnishing her reflection. He felt guilty for those words he had told her, maybe Bucky was right in being mad at him. - Do you want some tea? Yeah, you should get some tea, maybe some food? 

   - I really don’t want any of that.

   - It’ll help you calm down.

   - I’m calm! - the words came harsher than she anticipated, tears pooling at her eyes as she turned her head away from him. However, turning his head away from him meant looking straight into the mirror, those words in front of her, written across her forehead only added salt to injury. She held her hair, trying to hold in the tears. No, she was not going to cry, she was not going to cry.

    - Hey ... - Steve pulled her in for a hug. - It’s okay. I’ll make you some tea and we’ll wait for Bucky. I promise no one is gonna come in and harm you. 

   - I don’t want Bucky to see me like this. - she wiped the tears with her back of her hand.

   - It’s okay, just come with me okay? - Steve took her by the hand to the kitchen but not before locking the bathroom door. He’d deal with that later. Walking into the kitchen, things looked normal. Everything looked so normal, Steve wondered how someone could’ve easily entered her flat. - You can wash your face in the sink, it’ll hopefully reduce some puffiness and the red eyes. I’ll put on the kettle and we’ll have a tea, okay?

 She didn’t reply to him, merely nodding before making way to the sink in the skin. Shaky hands reached to the tap, moving it and causing the cold water to start streaming. Her mind got lost in sound, not wanting to get lost in her insecurities. The sound of water running, water boiling in the kettle and the cold feeling of the water against her warm skin. She felt like crying again. She shouldn’t be crying, she shouldn’t be a cry baby, she told herself. The water kept running, being slashed onto her face occasionally until the sound of the kettle on the background ceased.

Turning off the tap, she wiped her face clean with some kitchen towel before turning to face Steve who held one of her mother’s Christmas’ mugs up to her. She had that mug for what felt like ages now, the painting was starting to chip and there were English Breakfast tea stains on the bottom yet she couldn’t let go of it. She couldn’t let go of the only thing which seemed to make her feel as if she could control her life in a house filled with agency bought furniture. 

  - Is Bucky coming? 

  - Yes, he is. Just stuck in traffic. Brooklyn traffic is quite bad. - he chuckled, trying to break the ice. - We once got jammed in it when we were trying to leave Coney Island. Bucky hadn’t told his ma and she gave him an earful. 

   - Was it worth it? - she laughed of the thought of Bucky getting reprimanded by his mother.

   - Yeah, he made me ride the Cyclone over and over again until I threw up and then tried to bribe me with ice cream. 

   - I know, he told me. - she smiled at Steve, taking him off guard. Bucky had talked with her about him? He wasn’t expecting that. Bucky barely spoke to him after the incident at the compound, if he did it was normally because he had no choice and if he were to guess he would say the two of them would probably be bad mouthing him behind his back. 

    - Wh ...

    - Y/N. - she turned her head to the familiar voice, jumping from her seat when she saw Bucky standing in the kitchen, catching his breath in a white wife beater shirt and light grey yoga trousers. She wrapped her arms around him, letting his warmth involve her as he kissed the top of her head, arms supporting her against him. His eyes roamed the room, falling on Steve. - What are you doing here? Where’s Sam?

   - Sam had his meeting ... I offered to come check on Y/N instead. 

   - How nice. - the sarcasm rolled off his tongue, something which came by unappreciated by Y/N who looked up at him with disapproval in her eyes. 

   - You should probably take her to a hotel for a few nights, maybe your Brooklyn flat? I can get Natasha and Tony to come take a look at her flat, look at the security cameras, scan for fingerprints. 

   - I can protect her, I don’t need your help. 

   - Can I show you something? - Steve remained his regular calm self, arms crossed over his chest as he motioned with his head towards the bathroom. Bucky was reluctant to get away from her, afraid if he let go something would happen to her. She, on the other hand, pulled away from him, giving him a reassuring look. His hand unlaced from hers as he followed Steve onto the bathroom. 

He expected broken glass, artefacts that would show a break in but as Steve opened the door, the bathroom was intact. There was no broken glass, no forced entry just the word Slut scribbled all over her mirror. His blood boiled, fists clenching as he went to grab a towel to scrub it of the mirror but Steve stopped him.

    - We need to examine it, first. It’s no good scrubbing it off. Right now, you need to take her out of here. We’re not sure how the person got in or how he got out, if there’s a blind spot he might try to use it again. Go to a hotel, register under one of your old alternate identities or to your Brooklyn flat.

   - Yeah ... uhum ... you’ll sort it from here or should I drop her off in Brooklyn and return?

   - Go be with your girlfriend, Bucky. - Steve smirked at the word, not remembering the time he had called anyone Bucky’s girlfriend.

   - Should I pack? - Y/N poked between the two friends.

   - No, I’ll ... I mean, I’ll get Sam to drop some of your stuff wherever you guys go. 

   - Thanks, Steve. - the actress gave him a quick hug before disappearing onto the kitchen to grab her bag and phone. 

    - I’ll see you around? 

Bucky didn’t reply, instead turning on his heel and leaving the blonde hero in the bathroom. He didn’t know what to say, he didn’t want to say anything and so he left him there, instead walking to the kitchen and taking Y/N by the hand. She thought better not to say anything until they were in the car. 

     - What happened between you and Steve? - she asked once they were stuck on the traffic leading back to Brooklyn. 

     - Nothing happen between me and Steve, princess. - his eyes were glued onto the road, hands gripping onto the steering wheel. 

     - Really? Because if my best friend of more than fifty asked me a question, I wouldn’t just leave.

     - It’s really nothing, Y/N. He was rude to you and he didn’t apologise, that’s all. 

     - No that’s not all. - she turned her head to face him. - At least it doesn’t feel like that’s the only reason. Do you wanna tell me? Is it because he was the first one on the flat?

     - No, listen ... Y/N, it’s complicated. 

     - Do you want to be mad at Steve?

     - It’s more complicated than that, princess.

     - It’s a yes or no question, Buck. 

Bucky sighed, turning the wheel towards Brooklyn once the traffic cleared. The conversation ended there but it didn’t end in her mind. She didn’t want Bucky to be mad at Steve because of her, or him to be mad at Steve at all. Yet, she wasn’t going to push his buttons, she knew better so she just put her hand on his tight, head tilted against her own shoulder, watching his wild blue eyes on the road. The drive seemed longer as he tried not to look at her. He didn’t want her to get caught up in whatever he was dealing with Steve. Maybe it was wrong of him to get mad Steve due to things he had bottled up for years, yet, he just couldn’t help it. He wasn’t a baby, he wasn’t a cripple, he shouldn’t be treated like one. 

He drove up to his street, exiting the car first to check if there was any danger before opening the door to her. She looked around the neighbourhood, it was rather picturesque. Open large streets with close by apartments with little trees in front. It was the type of neighbourhood you would see in a coming of age movie. 

      - Come on. - he took her hand in his, walking her to his flat building. She stargazed at everything, watching the beautiful doors and matts until she reached Bucky’s door, the only door without an entry mat. - Listen, before you get it, you should know ... it’s not the best flat in the world. I’m still ... doing some things.

      - I’m sure it’s charming. 

      - If you don’t like it, we can go into a hotel. I want you to be ...

      - James. - she interrupted his rambling. - I’m sure it’s great.

      - Okay ... - Bucky insecurely opened the door of his flat, pushing it open with his feet to allow her in.

She furrowed her brows as she entered the empty home. There was no furniture, just boxes and a furnished kitchen, possibly bought that way. Now she understood why he was so insecure about opening the door, while she had too much in her flat, he had too little. Y/N moved further into his flat, opening the first door she saw which proved to be his bedroom and her heart shattered. There was no bed, just mattress on the floor and a few notebooks surrounding it. No pillows, no sheets. Nothing. 

     - Uh .. we can buy you a bed. Whatever bed you’d like. - Bucky came up from behind her, kissing her shoulder. 

     - Bucky, how long have you had this flat?

     - For a while now ... I know it doesn’t look good but I was thinking about buying some paint ... Yet, I don’t really know if I get to be like this for a while.

      - What do ... Oh. - she turned around and placed her hands on her shoulder, giving him a slow, soft kiss. - You’re not going back to that. I know you’re not, you’re strong. This is your home, you should treat it like a home. 

      - Princess, I don’t need much.

      - Well but if you don’t get a bed, I’m afraid I won’t sleep with you. Sounds dangerous. I don’t want to end up in A&E and explain to the nurse that my spine is cracked because my boyfriend doesn’t have a bed. 

      - Holding sex? That’s a low move, princess. 

      - IKEA. We need to go to IKEA.

      - Are you sure you don’t want to rest? I mean, you just wen ...

      - We could get meatballs. - she interrupted him, clapping happily. - Meatballs and home shopping, it’s gonna be marvellous. 

      - Y/N, we can order in meatballs.

      - But not IKEA meatballs. Come on Bucky, it’ll be fun! It’s like playing the Sims but in real life. 

     - I’m not gonna question you about what the Sims is. - he smiled at her excitement, pulling a strand of her hair behind her ear. - Are you sure you don’t want to test the mattress? I think I can make you like the bare mattress.

    - I know, love. That’s exactly why I’m not gonna try the mattress. - she held onto his shirt, little smile on her lips. - But I do think you need to change out of your pyjamas and maybe put some shoes on. 

    - You’re being awfully demanding of me, Ms. Y/N. I might have to punish you later.

    - Bed first and then you can do whatever you want. 

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