#mirror mirror why did i write just a name on my calendar?

[fuckthisshitimin]

I wonder if Archivists can compel themselves.

Because, we've seen that Archivist powers can make people remember more clearly, and say truths they wished to hide... And sometimes you lie to yourself without wanting to. Sometimes you don't know what you know. So could an Archivist stare into the mirror and ask themself what they truly want? Could they compel themself, jaws clenched, What did I come into this room for?

[ravendruid]

Be In My Eyes - Chapter 25

You can read the previous chapters here or on AO3. This chapter was inspired by this drabble. If you've read it before, I took the liberty to change things around. I hope you have as much fun reading this chapter as I had writing it. Summary: Keyleth steals clothes, Vax is too stunned to speak, everyone sees the tension between Keyleth and Vax.

Keyleth was so exhausted after a day of classes that had run later than usual thanks to a stupid group project her teacher had assigned, that by the time she got home, everyone in apartment 7B was either already asleep or out partying. She considered going to bed right away without eating dinner but her stomach growled loudly to remind her she hadn’t had anything to eat in almost eight hours, so Keyleth ignored the scream of her muscles as she crossed the kitchen to reach the fridge. According to the calendar on the door, it had been Vax’s turn to make dinner, and if Keyleth knew him well enough, he would have left her serving in a tupperware for her to heat when she got home. Seeing that she was the only vegetarian in the apartment, Keyleth often had to make her own meals on the side whenever it was other people’s turn to cook, but Vax—so kind and caring—always made sure to cook something different for Keyleth so she wouldn’t have to. It never failed to warm her heart to see Vax set a plate in front of her at dinner, not because he made the effort to use different proteins for her—sometimes even going as far as making a full meal for Keyleth—but because Vax went above and beyond to look up vegetarian recipes, seasoning techniques to make the food taste better, and, above all, Vax always cooked without Keyleth asking him to, and most of the time without her knowing (as if Keyleth needed any more reasons to fall for Vax). Just as Keyleth expected, there was a glass container with a post-it note on the lid waiting for her, which she promptly read: Missed you at dinner. I really loved this recipe, let me know what you think. – Vax <3

Waiting for the food to heat was torture, but Vax’s handwriting on the post-it note was worth coming home late. It meant more to Keyleth than just dinner, and she knew it meant just as much to Vax. “Why is he so perfect?” Keyleth mumbled, walking into the laundry room where she dumped her sodden socks in her hamper. She hated doing laundry this late, especially when she was so tired, but she really needed the pair of pants she had bought at lunch the day before. The party at Glorious was the next night, and Keyleth was excited to see her roommates’ reactions—a certain someone in particular—when they saw what she was wearing (although Keyleth still hadn’t figured out how she was going to steal her victim’s clothes). 

The answer came to Keyleth unexpectedly when she was about to switch her laundry. Someone had forgotten to empty the dryer, and just her luck, from the looks of it, it was the person she needed to forget their clothes the most. Keyleth did what any good roommate would do and carefully folded her roommate’s clothes and set them on top of the dryer before she put her clothes in the dryer. What if one of her roommate’s t-shirts accidentally found itself mingled with Keyleth’s clothes? She hadn’t seen it bunched up in the corner of the dryer when she added her clothes, and she especially didn’t notice it the next morning, until she was folding and putting away everything. Only one thing left to steal. Keyleth chuckled. 

It was hard to keep it a surprise once the girls started getting ready, but the good part about finally being able to share the name Keyleth had picked was that Vex could finally help her with the make-up and hair, and Vex even stole the last piece of the puzzle for Keyleth. They had about five minutes left until everyone was meeting in the living room to reveal their outfits, and Vex was finishing the last touches on Keyleth’s eyeliner. A glance at the mirror in the bathroom made Keyleth arch an eyebrow impressed. It wasn’t a look she ever thought she would see on her, but Keyleth had to admit she looked good in it.

Pike and Vex were the first out of the bedroom, followed by Grog and Scanlan, and then Percy and Vax. Keyleth heard her friends laugh in the living room although she wasn’t able to discern what they were saying. She was too busy panicking in the bathroom, pacing back and forth, and reminding herself to breathe. It’s going to be fine. She reassured herself. What if they hate it? What if he hates it? Keyleth stopped, looking at her reflection. Her face was pale with fear, her freckles more prominent than usual, and her hands were shaking slightly. They are your friends, she reminded herself. They will not make fun of you for trying out something new. Besides, it’s a costume party, not you trying to find a new style or a new personality. Keyleth knew she was right. Logically speaking, it wasn’t her tonight, so her friends would not be making fun of her. Keyleth took a long breath in, paused, and then released it. With a last glance at the mirror, she exited the bathroom and the bedroom, nervously rubbing at her hands. 

—

Keyleth hadn’t emerged from her bedroom yet and Vax was increasingly nervous with every minute that passed. With everyone else in the living room, it was plainly obvious who Keyleth was going to be dressed up as, but not even the irony of the situation was enough to ease his mind.

Vex’ahlia looked incredibly funny in a yellow crop top, sweatpants and fun buns. Between her legs where she sat on the couch, was a canvas tote bag with painting supplies and a fake stethoscope peeking out from the opening. From all the people she could have picked, Pike was an incredible opposite. Sitting next to Vex was the disciple of the Everlight herself, wearing khaki pants, a white buttoned shirt and a dark blue blazer that looked far too large on her, but the funniest thing about Pike’s impersonation of Percival was the plastic toy glasses that had clearly been hand-painted gold. Vax couldn’t tell which of his male roommates looked the funniest, though. Percy, who dressed in gray sweatpants (that had Vex’ahlia gasp and give the man a hungry look), a tank top, and was carrying a backpack and a soccer ball under his arm; Grog in a flashy purple buttoned-up shirt (that he purposely left unbuttoned until halfway down his torso) with matching purple pants and Scanlan’s beret; or the theater major himself, who was wearing a skimpy black skirt, fishnet stockings, one of Vex’s very revealing tank tops, and, to top off the look, a dark-brown haired wig that he wove into a really bad braid. The only thing right about Scanlan’s look was the faithful make-up. Thinking about it, as Vax gave everyone a second look, if anyone were to win a prize, it would certainly be Scanlan.

When Vax picked the slip of paper a couple days ago, he never imagined he would have to sneak into the girls’ bedroom to rummage through Keyleth’s closet in search of something he could wear. He tried to avoid buying clothes unnecessarily since he and Vex’ahlia didn’t have much money to spare, but thankfully for Vax, Keyleth was pretty lithe like him. He had chuckled at the array of colors in her wardrobe—of course, it would look like a unicorn threw up in there. Keyleth wouldn’t be his brilliant, happy ray of sunshine otherwise—but Vax settled for something dark that he felt still defined Keyleth perfectly. Vax picked a dark green sweater with a large sunflower embroidered in the center and an orange butterfly next to it, and a pair of light jeans with hand-painted daisies along the legs (something else that Vax noticed about Keyleth’s wardrobe was that most of her clothes were altered). He braided two pieces of hair at each side of his head and met them at the back, fastened by a green bow that he had seen Keyleth wear before, and Vex’ahlia helped him curl his hair like Keyleth’s. Vax hoped that he looked enough like her that everyone would give him a break for keeping his boots since he couldn’t fit in Keyleth’s canvas sneakers and couldn’t afford to buy himself a pair. 

Vex’s reaction to his final look had been unexpected. Vax thought his twin would tease him endlessly for pulling a paper with Keyleth’s name, but instead, she merely shook her head in amusement and muttered something about fate and soulmates. It never occurred to Vax that his sister believed in such things, but then again, he also never thought she was going to get involved with someone like Percival after everything their mother went through with their father. Everyone else’s reaction, however, had been as he expected. Scanlan mentioned how weird it was to see Vax wearing clothes that weren’t black, and Grog had pointed out that he needed to eat more protein and work out more because he fit Keyleth’s clothes too well. As for Pike, she had been the nicest one, merely complimenting him for a job well done. From everyone so far, Vax had been the one who wore the most pieces of clothing of their pick.

“Should someone go check on Keyleth?” Vax asked when Keyleth didn’t show up ten minutes after the scheduled time—if Vax knew her well, Keyleth was probably freaking out in the bedroom—but just as soon as Vax spoke, the bedroom door opened and Keyleth turned the corner. Vax was glad he was sitting down because he would have probably fallen on his ass otherwise.

For what Vax assumed was the first time in Keyleth’s life, she didn’t have a single piece of color on her. While it looked strange, it was also incredibly sexy, especially because Keyleth was wearing Vax’s favorite t-shirt (so that’s where it went!) underneath his leather jacket—certainly stolen by Vex’ahlia—a pair of black pants and Vex’s boots that were a cheap replica of his. Keyleth’s nails were painted black, her make-up was a perfect imitation of Vax’s eyeliner, and her hair had been straightened and was tied back in a half-up style like Vax always did. Keyleth looked beautiful in black—but then again, she would look beautiful in a potato sack— but she was also visibly nervous.

“Sorry I made you all wait,” Keyleth apologized, rubbing her hands in front of her in what Vax knew well as being a gesture of anxiety. Keyleth’s eyes shifted to him and she took a step back, aghast. Vax grinned at her and extended an inviting hand that Keyleth took hesitantly, he then pulled her to his side and wrapped his arm around her waist. Vax was perfectly aware that they had five pairs of eyes on him and Keyleth, but he didn’t care about them. All Vax cared about was the pair of bright, stunned green eyes and the smile on Keyleth’s face once she realized they were dressed up as each other.

“Let’s go before you two start making out,” Vex’ahlia rolled her eyes and grabbed the tote bag at her feet. Everyone else followed suit out of the apartment, leaving Vax and Keyleth still standing close to each other for a moment. 

“We should go,” Keyleth mumbled after the last person left, closing the door behind them. 

“You look…” Vax placed both hands on her waist and pushed her away softly to look at her again from head to toe. “Absolutely stunning, Keyleth.”

Keyleth’s cheeks bloomed pink. She looked him up and down, taking notice of everything, then back to his eyes and said, “You don’t look too bad either, Vax’ildan. Green looks great on you.”

“Not as good as you in black, Kiki. Damn,” Vax bit his lip. Keyleth squealed and hid her face in her hands but Vax pulled them away, leaned in to kiss her cheek, and whispered, “You look so hot. Gods be damned.”

Keyleth giggled. Vax had expected her to pull away and hide herself in a shell of bashfulness but she hadn’t done anything to show him she was embarrassed, quite the opposite. Keyleth was staring at him differently, almost as if she was hungry for something she had never had before. Vax didn’t want to assume she wanted him the same way he wanted her, lest he make a fool of himself, so he ignored the urge to lock the apartment door, kiss her, and take her to his bedroom. No, if Keyleth wanted him that way, he would wait until she made a move. He would wait his entire life for her.

“We should go,” Keyleth finally broke away from him, although she clasped her hand in his and pulled Vax behind her. The others were already waiting for them at the atrium, and even though most of them pretended not to notice Vax and Keyleth holding hands, Vex’ahlia didn’t seem to care about hiding it, not with the wink she gave them before she turned around and grabbed Percy’s arm as they all strode out of the building.

But as soon as Vax and Keyleth stepped into the cold autumn air of Emon, Vax felt a weird weight on his chest like something bad was going to happen. Worst of all, he had left his knife behind, safely stored in his nightstand drawer. Shit. Maybe it was just anxiety from going out for the first time in a while. Maybe it was because Keyleth was holding his hand tightly like he was her lifeline. Vax tried to ignore the heaviness of his chest and focus on the warmth and softness of Keyleth’s hand in his and the way she had looked at him before. Relax.Everything will be alright. Nothing bad will happen tonight.

[bad-knees]

where i am - feb 17 2024

im out at work, and pretty much everywhere i go, even though i don’t really wear girl clothes, i simply exist and people call me miss. it’s been okay! the excitement’s worn off. it’s still strange sometimes to hear the name mira. the people who’ve been in my life the longest are definitely the ones struggling the most with deadnaming and misgendering me. my new normal. which is funny because most of the time i don’t consciously think of myself as a girl or a woman, im simply myself, and who the fuck knows who that is.

enjoying time spent with friends, and with the small group at the church i go to. enjoying existing among people. though i still have days or weekends alone where it feels like im all alone in the world. my pea sized brain lacking any sense of object permanence. funny how social ive been turning out.

or maybe it’s just a part of me. a friend talked to me about understanding DID within themselves and their parts and internal family dynamics therapy. and so i’ve been thinking about my own lack of consistency. what are my parts? do they have names and characterizations?

im seeing someone and it’s thrilling and exciting. but im also too afraid to get hurt to be too excited about this new thing and about them. im still waiting for them to realize that im not that interesting and that im beneath them and i have nothing to offer them, that im not the wounded animal they want to be carrying around leading the way. their mind is full of facts and history and interesting things, and mine is near empty all the time unprimed and unprompted. i don’t think im actually that boring. i do more than stare at white walls and imagine the same three things surely. there’s a whole universe inside me i simply forget about too often.

i want more time and attention from them than they’ve been giving me. maybe it’ll come in time. or maybe id be better off getting myself busy. with reading and art and experiences and other friends and music shows and other partners. but who knows. it reminds me of a friend and her girlfriend. the girlfriend lives with her mom and doesn’t have much of a social life, but my friend does more. maybe couples figure that stuff out.

how do i relationship? or date to start with? how do i stop being afraid? i don’t want to act out of fear, i want to act out of love.

they got me roses for valentines day. at first i was a little dismayed. a generic gift you’d get someone else. but then i brought them home and cut off the stems and put them in a larger mason jar. and now they sit on my coffeetable and look gorgeous. i love them. and now i feel guilty for being ungrateful at first. thoughts like “do you even see me?” in face of a romantic gesture.

i have a new notebook for mind mapping for poetry and songs. it’s beautiful making mysterious connections. and the rhyming game in my head never seems to stop.

i have tentative plans with a sadist. someone ive hung out with before, but this time around feels different. maybe it’s the different hormone regimen, the introduction of progesterone which has been known to increase homosexual tendencies.

dealing with the newfound reality of feeling attractive. not only in the mirror, not only the nails i got done with a friend last tuesday, but also the inner kind. the emotional expressiveness i lend to others now. authenticity, showing you my beautiful self and all the beautiful things inside me. although these feelings come and go.

a card carrying lesbian. a glittery strap. sensual. ive been told im good at sex.

a friend told me that growing up pentecostal is sorta kinky. to which im seeing the truth in. why do we pretend like we live anywhere other than our bodies?

i feel sad, and then i write, and then the feeling goes away.

sometimes it feels like im going nowhere and nothing is happening. the calendar where i write what happens retrospectively says otherwise. and so does the constant of change and progress im seeing in my art and in my transition goals, and in the person im seeing, the upcoming drama with my family when i come out to my parents, a surgery date set a year from now, the needle i stick in my week every week, clothes and earrings and necklaces i need to go find, the possibility of falling in love with someone who loves me too, books ive yet to read, movies ive yet to see, etcetera etcetera etcetera.

[celestialking]

Sinbound 1

◇ NSFW 18+ only ◇ Minors/Ageless blogs DNI◇ You will be blocked ◇

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: he/him used for y/n, use of dreams name just once, suggestive, 

A/n: this is my first time writing a story like this-

◇ Next chapter ◇

It was everything you ever dreamed. Today was the day. You had it marked on your calendar for months. Mentally years. At 2pm your flight would arrive in Florida; it would take 30 minutes hopefully to get your luggage and navigate your way through the airport, then at 330pm you should be sitting in the same car as them. Dream and Sapnap. Your very best friends the ones you'd imagine meeting for years, they were about to be here in front of you. No more fuzzy video calls or laggy discord chats, no more wishing- 

The plane landed. Holy shit. It landed. 

You scrambled to pull your stuff together, waiting for people to exit the plane. You could barely contain your excitement any longer, you shot a blinding smile to the flight attendants and practically ran down the hall. Not counting you getting lost and mistaking someone else's luggage for yours; you actually made it out and to the pickup area earlier than you expected. 

Yuck, it was humid. Even though you were out of the sun you could still feel your clothes starting to stick to your skin. Where were they? You glanced around before grasping the handle of your luggage. Maybe they sent a message? You opened your phone, starting to walk down the sidewalk. You winced running into someone. 

"Sorry I-" you tilted your head up making eye contact with the stranger. The brightest of green eyes stared down at you. Slowly your eyes trailed towards the person to their left. Blueish green eyes watched back. Sapnap. Which meant that- "Dream?" You asked hesitantly. The giant nodded. 

No one moved for a moment. All three of you had blank faces, the gears were turning. Dream made a loud oof as you launched yourself into his chest, your arms wrapped around his neck. He stumbled wrapping his arms around you.

You assumed he hadn't said anything yet just because they were in public. His voice was a bit recognizable and it's always better to be safe than sorry. Arms wrapped around you pulling you off Dream. "Where's my fucking hug," Sap grumbled. 

"Jealous much?" 

"Shut the fuck up," he grumbled burying his face into your neck. You patted his arms awkwardly attempting to get him to let go. 

"Need to breath-" he let go flushing embarrassed. Dream rolled his eyes before grabbing your luggage. "Great job Sap. 10 minutes in and you've already almost killed him," he whispered. "Alright guys, I'm yours to kidnap," you said, maybe a bit too loudly as several people glanced back at you. 

"10 minutes in and he's already trying to get us arrested," 

"Wouldn't be the first time I ran from the cops," both you and Sapnap stared at Dream. "What? What did I say?" You'll process that later. 

The three of you headed over to the parking garage area to fetch Dream's car. Once you were there Dream removed the mask from his face. You couldn't help but stare. This was your first time seeing him, Sapnap watched you closely eager for your reaction. Dream looked around nervously. "Is- Are you okay?" 

You realized your jaw had dropped a bit and snapped it shut. "Y-yeah. But dear god I know why you hide behind a mask, the world is not ready for that amount of hot," you strolled past him ignoring the way his face turned pink from his cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears. 

Sapnap raised an eyebrow. Dream wasn't one to lose his cool over being called hot but to see him become flustered was a real treat. Sapnap grinned sharply, proceeded to tease him. His elbow knocked into the blonde a few more times before moving into the passenger seat. 

"You know," Sap started looking up at the mirror. You glanced up making eye contact through the glass. "You aren't too bad looking yourself," you removed your mask off of your face. "Is that so?" You leaned forward, elbow on your knees. "You're not very good at compliments Mr. Aren't too bad yourself," and then started what Dream knew would happen. 

When he opened the driver's door his ears were bombarded by the sound of you two arguing. Well. More like Sapnap yelling and calling names while you casually flicked a remark or two back. He'd hate to see you, Punz, and Sapnap together in a room or love it he couldn't decide. More than likely the situation would end up with one of you attempting something physical and Dream didn't want to play mother hen. 

"Seatbelts?" He asked putting the car in reverse. He placed a hand and rotated to look behind the car. "Ignore that-" as his shoulder popped a bit. Luckily neither of you had noticed as Sapnap was actually arguing about something else now.

"Dude, Dream, you don't have to remind us about seatbelts. We're not 8," Dream's eyes flashed to him. 

"So you're wearing it?" 

Sapnap paused before slowly reaching to grasp the seatbelt. "It just happens that I don't right now," 

"Looks like you can't talk then Sap," you crossed your arms popping the end of his name. At your words Dream shot a quick glance towards you but you caught him doing a double take. 

You chuckled. "See something you like Clay," he rolled his eyes at his real name. 

"You wish dude," he finally made his way out of the parking lot before you spoke again. "So- we kiss the homies goodnight around here?" You joked. Sapnap started giggling from the front seat. "Hell yeah we do!" 

You pulled into the driveway. The house was really nice from the outside, you couldn't imagine how'd it be inside. "When did you say your stuff gets here?" 

"Oh uh Thursday," you replied unbuckling your seatbelt. 

"Cool," Dream smiled. "You can have the room across from Sapnap if you like, there's the guest room for now though," 

"Why so quick to offer the one by my room?" Sap raised an eyebrow. "Wanna sleep in a room next to your gogy wogy?" You laughed getting out of the car.

Now that they were both out and standing in the sun you could get a good look at them. It felt unreal to be here. "You good y/n?" Dream asked with a slight frown. 

"I'm great actually, just happy to be here," Suddenly Sapnap gasped. "Height check when we get inside- height check!" You shut the car door, moving to get your bag. 

"I'm definitely taller doofus, no need to height check," 

You were definitely not taller and Sapnap was not going to let it go. 

Honestly you didn't care if you were taller or not to be honest but his attitude? That's what was upsetting you, in fact just thinking about that smug grin of his only infuriated you more. Currently he was holding a bag of chips above your head. Just another situation of him judging your height as he had the last 2 hours. He had to at least. The people of Twitter.com were convinced you were the taller of the pair.

"Cmon y/n grow a few inches," he teased, chuckling. 

You growled "ugh give them back and- and stop being such a fucking brat," you swiped your hand at the bag. 

Suddenly his hand grasped your waist. You froze looking up into his eyes. "Oh I'm the brat hm?" You blinked. 

There was an unrecognizable tension in the air now. You were suddenly acutely aware of how close to you Sap was. Hips pressed lightly against each other, and the scent of his hoodie slowly filled your senses. You swear for a moment you saw his eyes flicker to your lips, and you did the same. 

His lips looked soft, pink, kissable. Wait what? 

Sapnap suddenly moved, handing you the bag. "I was just messing with you," he chuckled before wandering over to the couch. Your side so burned where he had grasped. You grabbed the bag, deciding to laugh it off as well. Your body hit the couch with a soft thump. Dream searched around for something to watch ignoring Sapnap's cries for anime. You couldn't care less what was watched however, you were too deep in thought about the event in the kitchen. 

What the fuck was that? 

[songbirdsingingthings]

You and Your Everything - Shouto Todoroki x Reader

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Kohei Horikoshi

MHA Masterlist - Main Masterlist

WARNINGS: Your parents being the absolute worst, a few minor curse words, a lil angsty

Requested by Anonymous:

HI i love your writing and i saw that your requests were open? i was wondering if you could do like a shoto x reader but instead y/ns parents are like the opposite of shoto and endeavor? like for an example how shoto wants nothing to do with his dad and and all y/n wants to do is please her parents or make them happy since they never pay attention to her like that? both house holds are still toxic but i feel like thatd be an interesting dynamic

A/N: This was so interesting and cool to write! Obviously, the subject matter was much angstier and sadder than a lot of the stuff I have written, but I found writing this, like, entire paragraph of dialogue of Shouto (you’ll know it when you see it) to be so entirely incredible. I just kept on writing. Thank you so much for this awesome rec!

Word Count: 1.8K

“You’ve reached the voicemail of Kana Y/L/N. Please leave a message. BEEP”

“Hi Mom, it’s me again. Just calling to remind you that third years are allowed to reserve a box for their parents in the Sports Festival arena! I saved one for you and Dad in the front row, which are the best seats in the whole place. The Festival takes place tomorrow, as I told you guys about three months ago so you could put it on your calendars. I’m, uh, looking forward to seeing you again! Love you, bye!” Pressing the red circle that represented an “end call” button, you heaved a sigh and looked through your recent calls. Nine recent calls that your mother had missed within the last three days. Ten that your father had. They’re just busy, you tell yourself, trying to ease your mind. They’re just busy right now, but they had said that they’d come. They’ll come. Your thoughts had consumed you to such a point you didn’t even register the little nudges to your side.

“.../N? Y/N?” You blinked quickly to rid your consciousness of its prior dilemma and turn your head to the side. With heterochromatic eyes blinking fondly at you matched with a slight frown of concern, your boyfriend prompts the same question that had earlier feel upon deaf ears. “Y/N, I was asking if you are alright. You seemed a little… not here when I asked you just a minute ago.” Shouto’s voice, like always, is level, however little hints of emotion always tend to slip in between the cracks of his pronunciations. Like now, for instance, you hear the traces of worry cling onto his words.

“Oh, sorry, I was just leaving a voicemail.” You say simply. The sentence that left your mouth would seem normal to any person that you were friendly with. However, Shouto knew the implications. His shoulders seemed to tense as he took your hand. You squeeze his hand to reassure him. “Don’t worry Sho, they’re just really busy people. I’m sure they definitely carved time out of their schedules to come and watch me. I just need to make sure I get into the tournament round so I don’t waste their time.” You say, laughing a little dryly. Shouto doesn’t smile at the joke you made at your own expense.

“I just don’t get it.” He says, which makes your smile drop into a frown. “Why do you try so hard for them.” Your spine straightens at his words and your grip on his hand loosens. “Y/N, they’re awful people-”

“They’re my parents and I want to make them proud.” You say swiftly, a slight grimace on your face. Silence settles between the two of you, that is, until you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. Jumping up immediately and grabbing your phone, you take a glance at the caller ID. Your heart sinks as you see it’s a random telemarketer, and click decline call. You look back to your boyfriend, which was a mistake, because his eyes pooled with pity. Not feeling quite right in the space you were in, you grab your school bag and stuff your phone the furthest down it would go. “I’m going to go freshen up before dinner.” You decide, nodding towards Shouto and walking away a bit.

“Do you want me to come with you?” His suggestion on a normal basis would make your face flush and your heart beat a bit faster, however today you just wanted to be alone for a bit.

“No, it’s okay,  I’ll see you at dinner.” You say quickly.

“Y/N.” His grip came softly around your wrist, tugging you back a bit to face him. “I’m… I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I just love you,” he said those last two words a bit softer than the others, “and I want to see you happy.” Butterflies took flight in the pit of your stomach as you held Shouto’s gaze, his heartfelt and earnest words weighing heavily within your heart. Your frown wobbles into a smile as you lean in to place a quick kiss to his cheek.

“I know.”

“Did you see me out there?!” You cheer, careening down the arena hallway towards where Shouto was waiting with open arms. You leapt directly into them and was quickly picked up and spun around in a little circle.

“I did, you were incredible.” Shouto gushes, his cheek squished against yours. You laughed joyously as you felt his arms squeeze you closer to him, your heart racing with both leftover adrenaline from your second round tournament match and the feeling of love from your boyfriend. However, your laughter and the embrace you were tucked into died down when you heard the faint clearing of a throat, causing both of you to turn towards the sound. If you were looking into a mirror, you’re sure you would see your eyes grow to the size of saucers and your jaw dropping just a tad at the sight before you. There, standing about ten paces away, were your parents. Your mother, with her hair tied back in an uncomfortable looking bun with her freshly pressed pencil skirt and matching career jacket. Your father at her side, his suit and pants looking as sharp as ever. And the expressions they held…

“M-mother? Father? You two made it?” You stammer out, dumbfounded at their appearance. “But I, uh, didn’t see either of you in the stands.” You admit, earning a nonchalant expression from both parents.

“Well, with that lackluster performance that you executed, did you really think we would want to show our faces? It’s bad enough our colleagues know of you and all your little failures that you like to categorize as triumphs. Honestly, you really thought that we would want to be on camera for the entire world to see?” Your mother’s bored tone and biting words struck you hard. You felt your spine straighten and your hands stick to your side as you bit the inside of your cheek.

“But… I won.” You said, so soft that the sound of someone’s heartbeat could overpower it. If your gaze wasn’t stuck to your parents’ forms, you would have seen Shouto’s eyebrows narrow, awaiting for the oncoming onslaught.

“Good Lord, you want to call that a win? It makes me wonder how you ever got into this school or passed any physical examination in your class.” Your father’s tone, just as bored and apathetic as your mother’s, sent trembles down your spine. You clenched your fists and jaw to try and prevent crying. But, of course, it was of no use. The tears trickled their way, one by one, down your cheek like raindrops on a car window.

“And you’re crying now. Fantastic.” Your mother retorts, turning her to your father now. “I told you we should have sent her directly to the Hero Public Safety Commission. Would’ve toughened her up in no time-”

“CAN’T YOU SEE SHE’S UPSET?!” You almost didn’t recognize his voice. The soft spoken, pensive Shouto Todoroki that you knew to be your boyfriend rarely got upset. When he did, it was almost always in the middle of a battle or fight, just as he was about to use a special move. But this time, it was pure rage and anger that clung onto his words. Your parents, now sprouting an expression of slight surprise turned their attention to the seething red-and-white haired boy at your side. “All she ever does is work to make you happy. Day and night, twenty-four seven, it’s for you. And now here you come, strutting back into her life with some agenda on how she should fight and how much of a so-called failure she is?! Well screw that! You don’t get to have an opinion when it comes to her! She has been trying to get a hold of both of you for months on end and getting no more than the same damn message from your voicemails, telling her that you’re too busy for her!” Shouto’s face was red now. His fists were balled up and the tiniest flecks of flames were flaking from his left side. “And then, you’re now finally here, and you come with this holier-than-thou attitude! Y/N L//N, your daughter, is the most incredible and capable person I have met in my entire life. The fact that a person like her can rise like a phoenix from the ashes that is your attitudes and parenting styles is a miracle, because in every way, shape and form, she will forever be a marvel. To me, to our classmates, and to the entire world. I just can’t wait to see the look on your sorry asses when the time comes for her to give her thank you speech after becoming the number one hero, and you don’t hear either of your names mentioned once.” The silence is deafening after Shouto finishes speaking. You feel your whole body trembling and can recognize that there are tears falling down past your cheeks, but nothing else. Nothing else, until that constricting feeling that you felt bound to you to your parents’ approval starts to loosen the moment Shouto takes your hand in his. 

“Let’s go.” Your words, merely more than a whisper, is all it takes for Shouto to wrap and arm around your waist as he marches past your dumbstruck parents, towards a private room. The second Shouto clicks the lock shut, you let yourself break down. Sobs racked your body as you clung onto his shirt, his arm, and his love. “They’re supposed to be my parents. How… I can’t even do anything.” You hiccup into his tear-stained gym uniform, the one identical to yours (without the blotches of tears).

“Hey, shh, you’re okay. You’re fine.” Shouto says, his reassuring words grounding you. “You will get through this whole… mess, okay? I know you can. All you need to do is take it one day at a time.” You nod into his chest and let your head lie there as the tears finally started to cease from falling.

“You, uh, probably have to get ready for your match, right?” You sniff, moving one of your hands up to your face to rub at your nose.

“I’m fine here.” Shouto says, wrapping his arms around you. “Y/N, you really were incredible out there. Do not let them make you think otherwise.” You nod again as you feel Shouto begin to play lightly with your hair. “You are enough. More than, in fact. They might think otherwise, but I don’t. I love you, and your smile, and your everything.” You were too fried emotionally to say anything back, but Shouto knew. He knew that it would take time to finally break from your parents’ psychological hold over you and that he would always be there at your side.

[ninja-scenarios]

Spa day w/ Illumi ✨🐰

I started writing this a month ago so it still says “15th of Christmas” pls bear with me lol

This is part of a Illumi/Hisoka/reader poly relationship! But there won´t be any Hiso in this, sorry! I have another fic planned tho so pls anticipate it :)))

Now I can´t stop imagining Illumi with a bunny ears headband... uwu

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„What is this?“

- „A jelly peeling.“

„And this?“

- „A brush used for applying skin masks, so you don´t have to use your hands.”

You beamed with anticipation. This year, you had decided that it was time to show the boys how to make a couple-advent-calendar. A collection of 24 enjoyable things you could do together. And here it was. The 15th, “spa day”.

Hisoka was out, so you´d grabbed Illumi and dragged him into your study in what had to be the most comfortable kidnapping in history. He actually behaved very well, and you had the slight suspicion that he already enjoyed this.

“First is a headband.”

After you´d both taken a steaming hot bath together and rose from it super relaxed, you slipped a bunny-ear headband onto your boyfriend. Illumi turned to view himself in the make-up mirror. The feeling of something restricting yet comfortable was new to the assassin. The headband wasn´t meant to hurt him or for training, just to hold his hair out of his face. It felt... good. And the light pink went beautifully with his crème bathrobe.

“Look! You look like a bunny now!”

“Is that good?”

“It means you´re very cute and I like it.”

“Ah.”

“My cute little bun bun~”

While Illumi was admiring himself in the mirror, you had to resist the urge to braid his luscious hair, simply gathering it in a ponytail and then taking a seat in front of him.

Illumi´s mind wandered to the rest of the bathroom. You really had taken the time to tidy and clean everything and even decorate. Everything smelled so good! The light-scented candles held a soothing glow and they smelled sweet, as if Illumi just had to stick out his tongue and receive candy. You had placed them on every available surface, creating a big palette of colours that put his mind at ease. The products sitting neat next to them had big beautiful names and colourful packaging. Together with the tasteful instrumental music they made Illumi feel something he didn´t before. A thrill of anticipation.

“We´re starting off with a cleanser.”

Illumi´s watchful unblinking eyes followed every step of the routine. He sat there a little stiffly in a tailor-fashion, yet it reminded you fondly of a watchful cat. Or bunny, in this case. The outfit was so cute on him! It was a pity he wouldn´t let you take a picture.

You started to apply the soap-like foam onto his face with gentle care. Your nails were cut short just for this occasion and the way you worked the product into his skin was light and even. Your touch made him want to flinch, with how light and gentle it was, yet Illumi willed himself to hold still.

When would it start to sting? Illumi anticipated the pain, yet he trusted you. Whatever would happen, whatever would come, he wouldn´t flinch away. Even if you hurt him, he would be able to take it.

“Is this okay?”

“It is.”

You watched Illumi for signs of discomfort, a little concerned since he still wasn´t able to relax. It looked like he was preparing for the worst, even though you had mobilized everything to arrange a relaxing spa day... Ye the longer you brushed over his face, the heavier his eyelids became.

“Do you like it?”

“...”

His eyes closed and he started to relax. His shoulders became heavy, his hands slipped from his thighs into his lap where they loosely intertwined.

“Lumi?”

“Mh.”

Illumi wondered, when was the last time someone had taken care of him that way?

There was a memory from when he was about 3. He had fallen face first into the mud while running. Branches and dirt and pebbles had hurt his skin, yet by this age he had already learned not to cry. Illumi tried to remember. Had he already been numb to pain then?

One of the pebbles had lightly pierced through his cheek, resulting in an ugly wound that started to bruise. His mother had started yelling, fussing over his face and ushering him inside. She´d been angry and Illumi had felt responsible, mentally preparing himself for punishment. But then she had sat him down in her room, in her high chair in front of her vanity and tended to the wound under his eye with maybe the tenderest care he had ever seen in her.

“Illumi? I said do you want to wash your face yourself or do you want me to do it for you?”

You giggled when Illumi´s dark eyes shot back to your face. He had been zoning out for a while, probably lulled in by the soothing patterns on his face. For a second he just stared at you.

At you or at his mother, who had been wearing her hair down, then. Her beautiful locks of hair were black as night, just as his. His mother´s fussing had made him feel important, cared for.

“You do it.”

There was no force between his words. They came out slowly, eyes trained on your face as you smiled. Wordlessly you took a fluffy white washcloth and dipped it into a bowl with warm water.

“Close your eyes.”

You gently took a hold of his chin, just so much so that it would stay in place, as you began cleaning off the product. Illumi´s skin felt different now. Smoother, but dry.

“Next up is exfoliating!”

With far more fun that you´d imagined, you started rubbing the gel peeling into his skin. You had seen an instruction in a youtube tutorial earlier that day. When your thumbs brushed over his cheekbones in a circular pattern, Illumi let his eyes slip shut. You kept working gently on his face, eradicating non-existent little bumps and imperfections on his perfect glass skin. It was probably owed to his perfect diet and frequent intake of water... sometimes you were so jealous of that wonderful bastard.

Meanwhile Illumi thought about the pattern you used for the massage. Half a circle...

´Illumi. Keep up!´

His father had drawn the same pattern on the mat with his bare foot when he drew it back. Illumi hadn´t known then, that he´d done it to gain force and use it to punch his son square in the jaw.

`If you can´t evade my fist, how will you defend yourself against an enemy who attacks from the front? Illumi, they won´t have mercy like me. That is your first lesson.´

It had been the first time his father had openly punched him. Illumi had trembled in pain, holding his cheek with his tiny hand while trying to swallow his sobs.

`I trusted you, papa. I never thought... I never thought you would hurt me.´

Illumi´s eyes shot back open. His hands were gripping both your wrists, thumbs pressing into your palms and tilting them back.

A little gasp escaped Illumi´s mouth. His ears still rang with the blow of his father´s fist. Only after the noise had subsided did he notice.

In the same second he released you immediately. His heart beat wildly in his chest, spurring him on to fight, even though there was no actual danger. Even though you had never done anything to hurt him.

Your hands, they were so gentle, so soothing. They had brought him nothing but joy. There was no doubt in his mind that you were harmless.

“I should leave.”

He didn´t want to see your face, he couldn´t. After all, he had brought you damage. A flaw in a perfect system. Even though Illumi couldn´t decide if the flaw was his self-control or letting you close in the first place.

You went after him, grabbing onto his sleeve in the doorway.

“Illumi, listen to me.”

He didn´t move a muscle. He should go back home. His father would fix him. That was if he could forget you.

“I know it wasn´t the best idea to sit in front of you and repeatedly touch your face while you´re feeling vulnerable. I know you. I know have those patterns.”

Why did you have to say these words? They cut right into his soul with how true you were. It was unbearable yet Illumi couldn´t bring himself to walk away. Why couldn´t he just leave?

“Illumi...I want to walk through them together with you and for us to create new ones. New patterns, new memories, new routines.”

Why had he let a civilian come into his life? The needle he´d grabbed on instinct in his other hand when he´d grabbed you had almost come in contact with your skin. But you hadn´t even noticed.

“Don´t be a fool. I hurt you. It´s like father said. He let me live my own life, knowing I´d make a mistake and realize that there is only one way.”

Slowly, you walked around until you faced him.

“Illumi. Look at me.”

Reluctantly, the black-haired man raised his gaze. His eyes looked wet with frustration.

“You aren´t flawed. You´ve been put in a system where being perfect is unachievable. But look.”

You outstretched your hands, palms up. Upon further inspection, there were no bruises. No marks. Not even a red tint from where he had grabbed your wrists.

“You never hurt me, Illumi. Your grip was so gentle, somehow you must´ve known it was me. You see? There is no flaw.”

You beamed up at him.

“For me, you´re perfect. I love you, Illumi. I wouldn´t want you any other way.”

There was no flaw... he hadn't actually hurt you. Illumi's initial frustration started dripping down his cheeks.

For a long time, he wouldn´t let go.

With the utmost care he wrapped you in a hug, burrowing his face against your hair.

"Thank you. For letting me stay."

[jaysbestie]

ahshshdhsh this is my first time using the ask function in this app and i might as well take this as an opportunity. can you please write about jakey being a hopeless romantic (kinda like f2l thing) wherein they're also classmates and y/n is oblivious af? it would be very much appreciated, thank you~

hi this is a vERY late, I don't know if this is similarto what you wanted, I'm so sorry, but I hope you like it!!

Hoops and Love Letters

pairing ; f2l! basketball player! jake x gn reader

genre ; fluff

warnings ; food

summary ; jake, your best friend since you were children has started making your heart beat fast, little do you know, his is beating just as fast...

"yo jake!"

you were sitting on one of the park's benches with your best friend while eating strawberry flavored ice cream he got for you, when you heard someone call your best friend's name.

"jake!"

it was louder this time, meaning the person calling him was coming closer. Suddenly one of jake's friends, sunghoon, came into view trying to catch his breath while he sat down on the bench between you.

well now that was awkward.

he looked between you two, clueless to the situation you were in and asked,

"did I interrupt anything?"

he asked and to that question, your cheeks reddened as you turned to look at jake, noticing how his cheeks were also light crimson as he opened his mouth to answer his friend's question

"n-no you sure didn't" jake stammered. but jake never stammers?? and you just stood there, a little sad that jake answered sunghoon's question negatively and you just stood there, taken aback by jake's answer and by his stammering.

"it doesn't seem like it tho, anyways, heesung needs you in practice, jay was late and he almost got yelled at" sunghoon started talking without getting a breath, almost as if he was rapping.

you searched jake's face for a reaction and he didn't even look surprised by ths situation going on at the school's gym.

"well, y/n, I'll have to go, sadly, however, ill try to return you your book on saturday on our picnic!" he told you while he got his school bag, from the bench you sat on every day after school, and started walking behind sunghoon to the gym.

"I'll be waiting for my book!" you yelled and screamed, happy that he remembered the poetry book he borrowed from you, two weeks ago. you see, your and jake's bond was something unbreakable, being friends and classmates from a very young age and being lucky enough to be able to continue this friendship till now. you started packing your bag and put the cup from the ice cream in the park's trashcan while going to your house. there really wasn't anyone at home however you prepared your table fully and made yourself lunch. you sat down trying to find a boring enough movie so that you'll be motivated to stop watching it and study or catch a nap.

————————♡timeskip♡———————

it was now 7pm on a friday afternoon and you were currently doing your homework so that you didn't have to do them during the weekend, when your computer started alarming you that there was an incoming skype call by jake. it made you instantly smile and you answered his call watching his face brighten once he saw you had picked up.

"hey"

"hi"

"are you doing homework on a friday night?" he asked, while he looked at me as if I was a weird creature.

"yeah, I don't understand your opposition on me doing my homework on a friday night" you said, the fake offended look on your face made jake laugh and that moment it was like you heard an angel laugh.

"have you prepared anything for our picnic tomorrow?"

oh shIT

you panicked

"I swear to god, y/n y/l/n, did you forget about one of the most important days of the month?" it was his turn to act offended now taking a dramatic pose acting as if he was crying.

you were about to start crying because, hoW. COULD. YOU. FORGET. YOUR PICNIC?!?!

"oH HELL NOH, how could I forget our picnic?!" you stated nervously hoping that he didn't notice the panic on your face when he mentioned the picnic.

"great, I was hoping you remembered about it because, well,,, tomorrow's picnic will be extra special, than just a day on the calendar" he said, he seemed nervous and by his sentence you became nervous too, hoping that something joyful will be behind this "extra special picnic"

"YO Y/N YOU THERE?" he yelled and then proceeded to slap his laptop's screen, just to make sure his computer wasn't the problematical one.

"yeah sorry, my laptop started glitching, see you tomorrow at the park!" you yelled at him and ended the call in a hurry.

you sat up from your desk's chair and walked in front of your mirror

"I now have to go down and prepare for tomorrow's picnic" you said to try and convince yourself to go down and prepare however your plan was interrupted when your phone rang, the name of your other best friend lighting up the screen.

"YANG JUNGWON YOU LITTLE MONSTER" you screamed as you picked up the phone.

" yo y/n what is your proBLEM?!"

"YOU OBVIOUSLY"

"what did I do this time bestie, explain to me please"

"well I was about to go prepare for my monthly picnic with jake but you decided that it was a good idea to call me".

"oooh, jake, the guy that likes you but doesn't know how to tell you"

"plEASE, he doesn't like me, we've been friends for a couple years and he sees me as a good friend"

"ok but like, since yOU like him, why don't you speak to him about it?"

at this point you are heading to the kitchen in order to get ready for tomorrow, since hanging up on jungwon wouldn't happen soon.

"if I tell him I might ruin our friendship, won"

"he likes you too tho, even sunghoon noticed!"

"since when do you hang out with sunghoon?"

"since you were too busy going on dates with jake"

"please, we had study meetings"

"yeah call it whatever you want love"

you tried to respond to jungwon but nothing came out of your mouth so jungwon continued,

"anyways, I'm hanging up so you can prepare for your picnic, by the way, wear those brown corduroy pants I got you for your birthday!!"

"yeah fine, I'll make sure to fill you in on what happened won, good night!"

"night y/n!"

with that you went to prepare some quick snacks for tomorrow and also got some of your favorite jellies from a seven eleven nearby, all because they were also jake's favorite jellies.

———————♡timeskip #2♡———————

you woke up by the sudden sound of your alarm, you didn't even remember setting an alarm but you find have time to worry about stuff like this as you wanted to get up and get ready quickly for the picnic.

your phone rang and jake's number lit up your phone's screen.

"yo jake, bro, homie, fella, how you doin" that was the weirdest thing you've ever, like eVER, said in your life.

"Y/N Y/L/N ARE YOU DRUNK THIS EARLY IN THE MORNING?!"

"of course no jakey, it's 11:29 am, the picnic is in two hours "

" uh uh uh- special picnic" jake emphasized special once again.

" oh well, guess I'll take more time to get ready since its spEcial" you said, mimicking the way he said special.

" I swear to our friendship, y/n, if you're not ready by the time I come to pick you up, consider yourself not my friend" he said sarcastically, adding a laugh at the middle of his sentence.

"oh well, it's your lucky day because I have just started getting ready!" you lied, you walked to your dresser and started searching for that one pair of brown corduroy pants jungwon suggested you wear.

"I'm hanging up jake, gotta go get ready, see you at 1 outside my house!" you hung up without giving him a chance to reply.

bingo

you finally found the pants, searching for a shirt now. you found a white blouse you had got last Halloween for a pirate costume but never wore it. It didn't look like a costume shirt anyway, you shrugged and got into the bathroom to take a shower and get ready afterwards.

You were done with your shower now, the time was 12 pm and you had an hour left before jake got to your place to pick you up.

You put on your clothes and matched a pearl necklace (which was, indeed, a gift by jake) with your outfit, you opted for some classic black converse high tops as for the shoe choice, and with that, your outfit was complete.

You headed downstairs to prepare your basket, full with snacks and fizzy drinks, also getting a light blanket with you, just in case.

You heard a car honk from outside and checked the time, it was 12 : 40, twenty minutes before jake should be here to pick you up. The same honking sound was heard again and you headed to the door to see if it was jake by any chance. It was jake indeed, you got your basket, your keys, sprayed some perfume on and left the house, not forgetting to lock the door behind you.

"well hello there, y/n"

you were ready to tell general kenobi literally at his face, the pun must've been intended as you had a star wars movie marathon some days ago.

"hello to you too, jakey"

You both got in the car and jake turned the music up, a song unknown to you playing on the radio. Jake seemed different today, he seemed nervous, something unusual to him.

"is everything okay jake?"

"yeah why?" he responded while he let out a small laugh.

"oh, nothing!"

The drive went by quickly, however jake had taken you to a place you thought you'd never see again, it was the place where you and jake had first met. A park filled with bushes and sunflowers, huge trees and benches along with wooden tables. You were on the verge of tears, left speechless, you opened the car's door, taking your basket and started running around the park laughing loudly. You were feeling truly happy.

Jake was watching from inside the car, deciding to open his door too, taking his own basket, locking the car and started running towards you.

After running around for some good minutes, you sat on bench and left your baskets on a wooden table, starting to set your food in order for your picnic to start.

You had started eating your second sandwich when jake interrupted you, making you put your sandwich down and turning your attention to him.

"yo y/n, do you remember those love letters you kept on receiving last year?"

"of course I do! I've been searching till this day! but what does that have to with our special picnic?"

"well, I'm the one who sent those letters" jake said, lowering his head and starting to fiddle with his hands.

"well, that was a good one!" you started laughing. Noticing the situation jake was in right now, it only meant one thing, "WAit, you're not joking?"

"not really" he said giggling sadly, lifting his stare and watching into your eyes. You extended your arms and reached out to hug him.

"why didn't you tell me?"

"wait, you really didn't know I liked you? The boys kept on telling that my crush on you was too obvious!" he said, looking annoyed by his friends that moment.

"I mean, you did throw a basket ball at me once that had, "let me take you out" all over it but I didn't think you meant thAT TAKING OUT" you said, laughing at the old memory you had remembered.

well, y/n, would you officially allow me to take you out?" he asked, a glowing happy slice on his face when he noticed your emotionless face, "on A DATE, I mean, not with a basket ball!" he added. With that, you burst into laughter and looked at him, showing him your brightest smile.

"of course I'll let you take me out, on a date, jake"

[hansolmates]

jjk; off-league

summary; you decide to do a little boudoir photoshoot for yourself—a little sexy lingerie, some bunny ears, maybe even a little nudity to make you feel more body positive about yourself. that little photoshoot doesn’t end up being for yourself anymore when you accidentally send those sexy pictures to your stupidly hot, stupidly talented childhood friend who you haven’t spoken to since middle school graduation.  pairing; photographer!jk x fem!reader genre/warnings; childhood friends to lovers!au, flangst, mutual pining, feelings of insecurity and body image, suggestive language, nudity  w.c; 6.2k a/n: i was feeling a lil meh about this fic after finishing it but a month later it finally makes its debut! for @btsghostiewritersnet​ BGW Bingo Bash! today’s trope is “childhood friends to lovers” which surprisingly isn’t a favorite of mine so it was definitely a challenge to write! 

“C’mon, I need your opinion. Deadass. Don’t just say shit to make me feel better.” 

“Gimmie those nudes, baby girl,” Johnny makes an impeccable fuckboy impersonation, making you feel a little squirmy to your stomach. 

It’s an hour away from being the ass-crack’o-dawn and your impromptu pin-up photoshoot just needs the sexy-star-of-approval from your best friend. Johnny Suh is also up for reasons unmentioned, but you had a feeling his pretty boyfriend is fifty percent of the reason. 

You look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your frame against the black bodice of the sheer teddy. The only parts that are fully concealed are the parts that don’t matter. The sheer bodice reveals your pert nipples concealed by a thin black mesh, coupled with the deep V in the sweetheart neckline, accented by a little black bow in the dive of your highlighted cleavage. The silky a-line raceways to a set of black garters hugging your thighs, barely hanging onto a pair of lace thigh-highs. 

It doesn’t leave you butt naked, but enough to make you feel confident about yourself. These pictures are for you, and Johnny. And Johnny’s boyfriend if he’s being nosy. 

You tug off the silk bunny ears from your head, flinging it somewhere in your room. The wire started to dig in your brain, giving you a major headache. 

“Sending them now,” you hang up and start compiling the pictures in a folder on Google Drive. Once that’s done you copy the shareable link, sending it to Johnny’s number. It happens all so fast, and you feel kind of giddy. As you were posing for the camera, taking your time to find all the right angles, you felt good, you felt sexy in your little get up. Channeling your inner Ariana Grande was one of your childhood dreams, your fifteen year old self would be proud. 

Five minutes pass, fifteen, and by the twenty-five minute mark you’re pissed. What’s taking Johnny so long? 

Makeup scrubbed clean and face bare, you shuffle in your duvet, far too tired to be waiting up this long. Punching in his number once more, you cry, “Hey! Why haven’t you looked at them yet?” 

“What?” your friend’s voice sounds pebbly through the line. Was Johnny sleeping? “You never sent them!” he whines tiredly. 

“No, I definitely sent them!” you pull the phone away and keep Johnny on call, ready to prove him wrong. 

But to your surprise, the last message you sent to Johnny was this afternoon. 

The most recent message is to a person named John Kook. 

You scream. 

Johnny screams back at you with an equal amount of force, “What the fuck? Did someone break in? Are you being mobbed? See, this is why I wanted to put the baby monitor in your room—” 

“Worse!” you’re well prepared for any break in, but not for this. “I sent my pics to the wrong John!” 

“Well… is he at least cute?” 

“I mean, in the fourth grade he looked pretty cute with that front tooth missing,” you find your output of frustration, your bunny plush, pulling it by the ear and hitting it against the bed. “His name isn’t even John! It was just his English name for a silly project we did in middle school. This is so embarrassing, all I can picture is a twelve-year-old Jungkook mortified from sexual harassment. I basically sent him nudes!” 

“Tasteful nudes.” 

“I’m gonna die.” 

“He’s gonna die, of happiness.” 

Jeon Jungkook was a classmate from elementary through middle school. Time and time again was he the object of your affections, from the first grade at the roller rink to the speech he made at graduation. But really, who cares? You’re old and have a job, and it’s not like you’ve communicated with any of your former classmates. 

Your horror amplifies when the Delivered receipt is changed to Read 3:41AM. 

“Fuck! Fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget he saw it!” you cry, “does he still have my number? What if he deleted my contact, would that be even weirder?” 

“Girl, stop.” Johnny sighs, and you can already picture him running his thumb between his brows. “This doesn’t change anything, alright? You two don’t know each other anymore. Block his number and go to sleep.” 

Johnny leaves you alone after that, and you’re left alone to mull over the implications of sending Jeon Jungkook your nude photoshoot. 

You do block his number, knowing that waiting for a reply would drive you nuts. The one thing that you do which is possibly worse, is look him up on Instagram. 

Of course, he’s stupid hot. 

He doesn’t seem to like being on the receiving end of the camera however, in favor of his timeline being filled with romantic shots of the beach and city. In between the picturesque views and watercolor sunsets do you see glimpses of him and his current life. You can’t help but smile when you see him with his brother and parents during his college graduation, easily towering over all of them. He looks tall with fluffy cocoa hair, big pearly whites gleaming proudly at the camera. He grew up well. 

To torture yourself even more, you even look through his story. Twelve hours ago, he was at the gym lifting weights. Normally, you’d be disgusted by people trying to show off their grunt faces drenched in sweat, but of course Jungkook has to have on a silly smile and pump his fist up after he deadlifts. The sweat clinging to his shirt is also a high plus. His gorgeous display of abs has your hands fluttering over your own belly. Maybe you need to exercise more. 

Four hours ago, you see him and a pretty woman with their cheeks squished together, using the puppy filter. Of course he has a girlfriend. 

Reluctant, you open up your Google Drive and scroll through your photoshoot. Deflated, you frown at the pictures that once made you beam with pride, picking at every little detail that bothered you. You really can’t believe you sent these to Jeon Jungkook, no longer a fourth grader with one front tooth, but a man way out of your league. 

By the time you will yourself to sleep, the sun peeks from the horizon, telling you to move on. 

“Hey Gyu,” you tiptoe over to the table much too small for Mingyu’s frame. The string bean is slumped over his iPad pro, drawing intently at some chibi OCs. “Got a plot for that one?” you ask, pointing at the little pink and blue creature decorating the screen. 

Mingyu grunts in reply, obviously engrossed. It isn’t until you slide him a matcha frappe from Starbucks that he becomes intelligible, muttering a “thank you” as he blends with his pen. 

Sensing that it’s going to be awhile before you get through to him, you take your usual rounds around the front desk and lobby of the cosy photo studio. There’s pretty pictures of Mingyu’s work, along with the other employees Minghao and Hoseok. Each section of the wall features a different taste of each person’s interest. Mingyu is a divine lover of soft bed sheets and hot tea, many of his photographs and paintings featuring cafes or perfectly messy beds you’ve seen on hotel advertisements. Minghao is a tasteful artisan, splotches of color retaliating against neutral backgrounds. Finally, Hoseok manages to find balance in the people, large cityscapes telling both large and small stories.

“Alright,” Mingyu’s deep voice forces you to curl your head, where he’s sipping at his drink with haste. “What’cha here for?” 

You frown, “Don’t you remember? I told you last week I’d be stopping by to get my photos developed,” you gesture to the Pentax in your hands, an heirloom from your great-aunt. While you did take digital photos for sending them to Johnny, the ones you wanted developed were taken side-by-side with the film camera. You figured that film would give a little more authenticity to your photoshoot. 

“Shit, that’s today?” the camera falls like deadweight, slapping against your sweater as you watch Mingyu frantically look through his digital calendar. He looks at you, dejected. “How many prints?” 

“I don’t know, maybe like six. Or eight?” 

“That’s gonna take too long, I’m heading down to Hidden Grounds for a vision meeting at two.” 

“Alright, I���m free all day. What about after?”

“Nah, you came all this way. I can just let the new guy help you.” and Mingyu makes a show of cupping his hands in the direction of the open hallway, “Yah, Jeon Jungkook! Get your cute ass out here!” 

The Pentax around your neck suddenly feels like weight akin to a two-ton boulder, and you surge forward, not caring that the corner of the table is digging into your belly. “Mingyu,” you garble, and Mingyu is shell-shocked by the desperation in your eyes. “Isn’t Minghao around or something? Or I can come back another time? These photos are really personal and I don’t feel comfortable having a stranger see them.”

“What? We’re professionals, don’t belittle us.” 

“No, seriously,” you whine, you tug at the collar of his denim jacket, noses practically touching. “These pictures are different. My tits are out and my legs are spread—”

“—interrupting something?” 

You hear some shuffling, and you turn around to see Jeon Jungkook’s back, comically turned to face the entrance. 

And damn, he did have a cute ass. Nothing is going to hide the glory in those jeans, absolutely nothing. 

“Hilarious,” Mingyu drawls, and you push him away. “Forget it, Kook. She doesn’t feel comfortable letting a stranger develop her photos.” 

Sensing that it’s safe to turn around, you watch as his black bangs flutter as he faces you. You hope your body language doesn’t betray how you’re really feeling, because you are a mere mortal and you’re weak in the presence of god-like figures. 

“Oh, what a relief then,” he smiles at you, and his voice sounds like honey. If there was malice or surprise in his tone, his good-natured expression betrays it. “Because I’ve known this friend since elementary school. We go way back.” 

You ignore the burn in the back of your head, as you are positive Mingyu knows you’re hiding something. 

“Really, what a coincidence.” Mingyu replies carefully, and you feel utterly stuck between these men and their banter, locked up like cream in an Oreo cookie. 

Nothing argues against Jungkook as he easily weaves through the thick wave of awkwardness, hands reaching out to touch your camera. “Wow,” he marvels, holding the object in his hands, “my dad has one of these.” 

“A-ha,” you take a step back, only to bump into the corner of the table, again. Ouch. “It’s okay, Jungkook. I’m actually busy today so I can come when Mingyu’s free–”

“Oh, I thought you were free all day,” Mingyu drawls, looking up through his lashes as he sips languidly at his drink. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook says good-naturedly, as if Mingyu just didn’t out you. “We got a lot of catching up to do anyway, c’mon.” 

Jungkook moves to place a hand in the small of your back and that’s enough to get you to rev up. Refusing to let any contact get between the two of you, you zip ahead down the familiar hallway, turning your head to catch Mingyu grinning with all canines, shooing you with his fingers like a puppy. 

You send Mingyu a stream of “fuck yous” into his inbox for later, unwilling to settle with this curse. Busying yourself with your phone, you avoid eye contact with Jungkook until you reach the dark room. The red light turned off at the top of the doorhenge signals that the room is not in use. Jungkook makes a move to open the door and that’s when you pounce, blocking the doorway with your small body. It’s comical, really. 

Jungkook raises a brow at you, but says nothing. 

“I really can wait, Jungkook,” you steel yourself, forcing a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t like you developing my pictures—”

It’s then that his pretty cupid’s bow unfurls into a full-fledged grin. “Girlfriend... you’ve been keeping tabs on me?” 

“Fuck, well I had to!” your face is as red as the dark room’s alert light, now on because Jungkook flicked the switch and he’s between your arm to unlock the door. Your hand brushes his as you both reach the knob. “I’m really really sorry I sent those pictures. They were for Johnny—you remember Johnny Suh from English class? And I saved you in my contacts as “John Kook” so it was an honest mess up.” 

Jungkook hums, so light that the breathiness in his chords flutters your grip on the knob. He forces the door ajar, and you’re left to follow him in the dark room, cluttered with solutions and fancy equipment. 

“Thought so,” Jungkook shrugged, giving a one-over at the materials in the room, mulling over his next steps in developing your film. 

You’re still petrified at the doorway, holding your Pentax between both hands like a lifeline. Jungkook’s head lols to you, and you get a pretty view of the way his bangs brush over his forehead, Adam’s Apple bobbing. His expression is a little tired, but overall unreadable. He sighs your name, lethargic. 

“We’re already here, so might as well get this done,” he gestures to the camera in your vice grip. “Do you wanna pick the shots or do you want me to?” 

He’s already seen the digitals, what’s so different about getting a couple prints? With a slight pout you drag your feet over to him, relinquishing your camera. “I’m thinking you have a better eye for this than I do.” 

“You think right.” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Cocky, but what you’ve seen on Instagram definitely justifies his sentiment. Jungkook pays no mind to you, busying his hands with the various containers in front of him, measuring the solutions for the developer, stopper, and fixer. You were always entranced by the process of developing film, especially in highschool where their photography club holed themselves in the darkroom like a secret lair. 

“Alright,” he pops open the canister, carefully laying out sections of the film in groups of four. “Want me to pick a random one for a tester?” 

You frown, “At least put some thought into it.” 

“Always,” it looks like he already decided way before he popped the question, immediately taking a negative and placing it in the carrier. 

His fingers are nimble as he takes the time to clean off the dust and any debris that could potentially ruin the image. Then he turns off the lights and begins the process. You dive around him, trying to keep your distance but still too curious to leave his side. If he’s annoyed he fails to show it, in favor of humming whatever song comes from his Echo Dot. 

You always got the solos in choir. You wanted to reminisce, but you’re too nervous to say it out loud. 

Even though it’s his job and he’s being a professional, you romanticize the experience, watching as he carefully puts the print in each liquid process. Your image blooms to life, and you feel your stomach churn as the photo develops before your eyes. 

After a final dip in the solution stopper, he places the first product in a bath of water. Even though you are mere centimeters away, you can clearly see the image of you swimming around the container. 

“Alright!” Jungkook hangs the finished picture on a pastel pink clothespin, tacking it in place. “Whaddya think?” 

Your breath catches in your throat, feeling heavy as you look at the image of you reflected in the glossy paper. You’re perched on your bed, a hand splaying between your legs as the other hand toys with the silk bunny ears. You’re leaned slightly, giving an ample view of your cleavage. However, the image of you is definitely different from being blown up in comparison to the negatives, and you squirm uncomfortably at your full display. 

“I look,” you bite your tongue, internally debating whether you like it or not. Not to spare Jungkook the theatrics you shrug, “It’s good.”  

The lack of enthusiasm seems to dissatisfy Jungkook however, as he has to take a double take and look back and forth between the image and the real thing. “What’s wrong with it, do you think Johnny’ll not like it?” 

“What?” you furrow your brows, breaking into a nervous laugh. “Johnny has a boyfriend. I just wanted his opinion. This photoshoot is for me, y’know? Just something to make me feel good about myself.” 

Jungkook’s lips morph into a little ‘o’, and you see a little bit of the child you once knew in the way he’s mulling over the situation. 

“Then can I give you my honest opinion?” Jungkook clips off the half-dried photo, holding it between you two. “Stop thinking so hard about every little thing you don’t like about yourself. If I was your boyfriend and you gifted this to me, I’d be creaming my pants. You look fucking sexy, all grown up since you cried in the fourth grade.” 

You’ve just been flung a litany of words you have no brain capacity to digest. Along with that, the immense heat you didn’t know you’ve been suppressing surges to your belly, low and simmering. Jungkook stares at you in earnest, despite his sudden gush of honesty, you don’t know what to say. There’s a dash of pink staining his cheeks, betraying the confidence he previously displayed. He stiffens when you don’t reply immediately and moves to clean his materials, his sudden bout of bold honesty quickly shrinking. 

“Y-you know,” you look down at your feet, “the only reason why I cried in the fourth grade was because you told me Santa wasn’t real.” 

Jungkook softens, tilting his head. “Sorry about that.” 

“Thanks though,” you gently reach for the photo in Jungkook’s grasp, looking at it without contempt. “But won’t your girlfriend be upset if she knew you were saying things like this about someone else?” 

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, if you looked through the rest of my Instagram story,” Jungkooks cards a hand through his already mussed hair, splitting the ends. “You would see that she’s not my girlfriend, but my tattoo artist.” 

For added measure, he wiggles his fingers in front of you, revealing pretty ink and silver bands across his knuckles.

“Oh,” your voice is feather light, and you’re sure you’re drooling as you stare far too long at the letters that mark his hands, curious as to what they symbolize. 

“So, as a singleton telling another singleton,” he continues, “I know it’s meaningless if you don’t believe it yourself, but I’m telling you, you’re attractive.” 

“Thanks,” you hold the picture tightly in your grasp, eyes flickering to the negatives in the room ready to be galvanized into a full-fledged picture. “Why don’t we wrap this up, huh? We can continue another time.” 

If he notices how much the paper wilts in your grasp, he doesn’t comment on it. “Are you sure? I know it takes a lot of time, but I don’t mind.” 

“I’m sure,” you force a smile, one hand on the lightswitch. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready, okay?” 

Jungkook swallows, nodding mechanically. “Okay.” 

“It was really nice seeing you, Kook.” you blurt before you could chicken out, letting the room bask in darkness a little longer so he can’t see your flustered state. “I’m not even going to downplay it, you look great.” 

You half-expect a cocky remark, or a little chest pumping from the compliment. At the sound of his nickname however, 4th grade Jeon Jungkook resurfaces and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Like I said, so do you,” he replies easily, sending you a soft smile and opening the door for you. 

The door closes shut behind you and you exhale, patting your cheeks and willing for the chilly air to calm you down. 

When you get home that day, you shuck off all your clothes and crawl into bed. You cry out when the metal framing of your bunny ears stabs you in the back, and you fling it to some unmentionable part of the room. You reach for a bag of half-opened sour gummy worms, flipping open your MacBook to continue streaming the soft magical girl anime you’ve been hooked on these past few weeks. 

Not even Sailor Uranus can distract you; however, by the time it’s dark and you’ve run out of distractions, you finally pull the plug and unblock Jungkook from your list of contacts. 

Your phone buzzes, the incessant vibration relaying all the messages you’ve missed. 

[March 12th, 3:53AM]

You: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/0343…

John Kook: ??? 

John Kook: you probably sent this to me by accident… sorry i clicked on it

John Kook: is it weird if i said you’ve done a massive glow up since the middle school dance?

[March 12th, 12:02 PM]

John Kook: are u mad

John Kook: you’re mad

John Kook: am i makin this weird by continuing to text you

John Kook: im making it weird. 

[March 31st, 6:24 PM]

John Kook: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/049…

You tilt your head at the folder link, it was sent only a few hours ago. With a click, you’re enlightened to a set of digital photos. Your photos from your photoshoot, but not quite. They’ve been expertly edited, not too much to distort your looks, but only to enhance your features. A small, barely there smile creeps from your subconscious, ultimately touched by the gesture. 

John Kook: sorry if i pushed too hard today. 

Guilt overrides your nerves, prompting you to immediately press the call button on his contact. Not to your surprise, Jungkook’s light voice calls your name through the line after the second ring. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you blurt, forgoing the hellos. “It was the right amount of push, I feel better, really. If anything, I’m sorry. I blocked your number because I was scared to read your reaction.” 

You hear him sigh along the line, and you feel that breath ripple through your nerves, as if he’s right next to you. “It’s fine, I would’ve done the same thing.” 

“The pictures you just sent, they’re really beautiful. You did a good job.” 

“Thanks, I had a bit of help. I didn’t have to do much.” 

“Oh, did Mingyu come back from his meeting?” 

"No, I uh," Jungkook chuckles, and while you don't really know why, the sound is nonetheless pleasant. “It was mostly the lighting and coloring I fixed up. Didn’t need to do much since you already looked so pretty as it is.” 

You choke on your saliva. 

“You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you cough, “just choked on a snack I was eating.” he hums in reply, and you pray he doesn’t hear your stomach fervently retort that you haven’t eaten since lunch. “So, I think I’m up for developing more of the film. When can I drop by?” 

“I’m free Saturday,” Jungkook chirps, “I have a shoot until noon but you can come anytime after that.” 

“Sounds good, I’ll be there,” you clutch the phone with both hands. “I can bring lunch. What do you like to eat?” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“I’m already buying for Minghao,” you lie, “do you like burgers?” 

“I can’t say no to a good burger,” Jungkook’s smile feels almost palpable against the line, “do you remember our field trip to the national museum of history? We had burgers on the street!” 

“Oh, those were so good,” you moan, fuzzy memories of a middle grade field trip resurfacing to clarity, “but you ate like, ten of them!”

“I still get nightmares,” he warns, “don’t let me go to bed like this.” 

You giggle, letting your body meld further into your warm mattress. “Maybe I’ll just show up with ten burgers for you tomorrow.” 

“I’ll throw up on you, try me.” 

Minghao’s adjusting the frames on their display wall by the centimeter, and it’s pissing him off. 

“Ah, it’s off,” he mutters to himself when you walk in, indicated by the electronic bell. He turns to you briefly, pulling a leveler out of his overall pocket. “Doesn’t this look off?” 

“Uh,” you look towards Mingyu at the front desk, who is paying no mind as he continues scribbling on his iPad. You tilt your head towards your former college classmate. “It doesn’t look off from over here?” 

Tacking the leveler on one of the frames, he whines, “It’s five degrees off.” 

Mingyu puts his pen down to reach over the counter and grab the paper from your hands, steaming with the scent of fast food, “He’s been like this for hours, don’t mind him.” 

He doesn’t even ask whether the food is his, Mingyu sees grease and he claims. Reaching for an oil-wrapped parchment, he unfolds the paper to reveal a handsome burger with all the fix-ens. 

Barely satisfied, Minghao steps away from the art display. There is a sizable gap in the display, now divided between four artists instead of three. You wonder how Jungkook’s work will look amongst the other artists. 

“Cute ‘fit.” Minghao mumbles, nodding approvingly at your clothes as he digs into the bag for his own burger. 

You send a half-smile his way. If an outfit is Minghao-approved, that means you’ve gone above and beyond. At least, you tried to play it off like you didn’t try to look cute. It’s not like you’re intimidated by Jungkook, living with a major fifteen-year glow up. After all, he’s already seen more than you can imagine. 

Mingyu takes notice, eyes going south to where your white blouse meets your cleavage. You hurl a fry at his face, “Eyes up here, perv.” 

He scrunches his nose, lifting a greasy thumb to slide a manila envelope over to you. “Here’s the developed pictures. Intercepted Kook and I finished them this morning.” 

You frown, “Jungkook’s not done with his photoshoot yet?” 

“Oh, he’s been done.” Mingyu’s eyes roll back to one of the studios. “But I’m saying is, you got what you needed. So you can leave if you want,” but he grins at you, canines so sharp you feel his stare jabbing you in the proverbial neck. “Unlesssss you want to go in and say hi.” 

If he has any inkling of what’s going on in your head, it’s definitely confirmed when your face turns hot. Damn body, you’re betraying me! With a flourish you grab the fries from under Mingyu’s nose, along with whatever’s left in the fast food bag. 

Minghao’s smiling through his burger, knowing if he pulls any type of savagery his lunch would certainly be pulled from under his chin. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, drop it or the burger will be going in your ass instead of out.” You mean to sound menacing, but the Min-squared and their boisterous laughter follow you down the hallway and into the occupied studio. 

“Hey Jungkoo—wow.”

You’re sure you look like Alice, enthralled by the little wonderland she just stepped into. The set is beautiful, right out of a fairytale. It has a very old-romance vibe, like Morticia and Gomez Addams. There lay a couch made of the darkest, richest wood, with velvet red cushions covering the body. Across the floor laid hundreds of black rose petals, blanketing the floor in a sea of ebony. 

“It’s for a wedding, gothic themed.” Jungkook supplies helpfully, still fiddling with whatever he was looking on his digital camera. He’s looking utterly soft in a matching grey sweat combination, something that would easily disgust you during high school, but unfairly works with him. 

“The shoot must’ve been beautiful.” 

“It was.” 

“I uh, got this for you.” Your fingers start to sweat from clutching the bag so hard, and you place it on his work table. 

He finally looks up from his camera, giving you a wan smile. “I thought you got those for Minghao.” 

You mentally slap your cheeks, trying to ignore the way his smile made your stomach do somersaults. “He got his own. Your portion has a cookie in it, so.” 

His cute teeth unveil themselves at the mention of sweets, and you can’t help but smile back at the familiarity. 

The two of you take your time in enjoying your lunch, not meaning to stay but the very back of your mind hoping he’d like to share a meal with you. After all, Mingyu and Minghao are probably at the front relishing in your very obvious attraction. What can you say, first crushes never die. 

Between sips of your milkshake, you’ve taken to flipping through Jungkook’s portfolio. There’s a myriad of different subjects: beaches, people, the occasional squirrel. Each section of the portfolio feels like you’re being transported to a new side of Jungkook and his artistry, and you ached to know more. 

“Wow,” you point at an action shot of two girls in a dance studio, “this duo looks like Chungha and Hyoyeon.” 

He swallows his (second) burger, having the audacity to sink sheepishly in his sweater. “It is Chungha and Hyoyeon.” 

You nearly choke on your cookie. “That’s amazing.” you say breathlessly, looking closer at the image. In fact, the beautiful women photographed are famed hip-hop choreographers Chungha and Hyoyeon. You can’t imagine how good Jungkook must be to manage a photoshoot with them. 

As proud as you are of Jungkook, it reminds you that since middle school you two have lived completely different lives. You wonder if Jungkook gets these kinds of gigs all the time, hanging around with gorgeous, talented people like himself.

Jungkook says your name once, twice. He looks at you concerned, and you’re melting in his large carmine eyes. If he notices your usual overthinking, he doesn’t say anything, and gestures to the section at the end of his portfolio. “This isn’t my best work, but it’s one of my favorites.” 

There’s something familiar about this set. A playground with a busted swing set. Children riding on bikes and colorful class shirts. Ice cream melting on fists. 

Thirteen-year-old you hanging on top of your middle school’s leafless tree, clutching your baseball cap as you shade yourself from the sunset. 

“Was this the first time you took pictures?” you ask, thumbing the picture of yourself. 

“Yeah. It’s when I decided it’s what I wanted to do the rest of my life.” 

“I know we didn’t know each other that well and we’ve only recently connected but,” you give him a shy smile, “I’m really proud of what you’ve grown up to be, Jungkook.” 

He looks like you’ve hung him the moon and stars, his half-eaten burger loosening in his grasp. His lips are parted cutely, like a kitten who’s just been offered a fresh glass of milk. You cough at the sudden pause in conversation, feeling self-conscious of your impulse confession. You don’t even have it in you to be disgusted when Jungkook hastily shoves the second half of his burger down his throat, tips of his ears pink. 

Leaving him be, you press a palm to your cheek, looking at the wedding set. 

Jungkook downs half a water bottle before he speaks again. “Y’know, it would be a shame to clean up this set already. It was kind of expensive.” 

“Yeah,” you echo, standing up and kicking off your slippers. You kick your feet in the air, watching the black petals kiss across your ankles.

“I have an idea,” he wipes his hands on his sweats, “why don’t you go back home and get an outfit you really like. Lingerie, a cute outfit, whatever. Let me give you a photoshoot you’d love.” 

You look up from your petal dance, balking. “Jungkook! That’s not necessary, I told you the photos I took were okay.” 

“Yeah but, you didn’t seem entirely happy. C’mon, I got a camera and a beautiful set. Why waste it?” his hands naturally gravitate towards his charging camera, already turning it on. “I can do lighting, I know all your good angles. What’s stopping us?” 

Really, what’s stopping you? Your hands fiddle with your open flannel, the soft material comforting you as you look across the set. You try to imagine yourself, your body draped across the velvet pillows and black petals. Would it look good? Would you feel good? You think back to how you felt the first time, how scared you were when someone other than Johnny would be looking at your photos. You remember how something weird and sour contorted in your stomach when you scrolled through Jeon Jungkook’s Instagram, no longer the little boy you knew but a man who could have everything he wanted—

“Stop thinking about it.” Jungkook suddenly snaps, and you break from your reverie to catch him looking upset. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen him like that. 

“Thinking about what?”

“Thinking that you’re out of my league.”

“Excuse me?” 

“You were like this the other day too,” and he looks sad, and puts his camera down to come closer to you. “Why are you feeling this way. Is it me?” 

“Not necessarily,” you huff, hugging yourself.

“Do you not feel beautiful? Do you not like your body?” 

“No, I do.” you say to yourself, and you mean it. Even though there will inevitably be days where you may not feel one-hundred percent positive about yourself, you know at the end of the day, you love you and all its parts. “I don’t know, Jungkook. I had no problem letting Mingyu develop the photos originally, because he knew me in college and I was already sure of myself back then. But I guess when I sent them to you, I felt like I did when I was a little girl, y’know? Going through puberty, and worrying about what other people think.” 

And it’s not like Jungkook teased you or made you feel lesser of yourself. In fact, Jungkook was the student you wanted to be when you were younger. Someone sweet and caring, and unabashedly confident about himself. 

“I guess seeing you so successful and the fact that my stupid childhood crush came back from a time where I always felt low, made me feel a little insecure again.” 

Something sinks in and you feel hyper aware of how crushed Jungkook looks at your declaration. “There’s no leagues, you got that?” he says quietly, walking so close that he’s hovering over you, sneakers brushing. “I get it. I get unsure and insecure just like you. Hell, I was nervous this morning, wondering if you’d really come. We may not feel insecure over the same things, but middle school wasn’t that great for me either.” He makes a funny face, and you feel a smile twitch across your lips. “But it’s okay. Because we’re human and we grow. But now, you are successful. You’ve grown from your time growing up and you’re a wonderful, powerful person. I’m proud of you too.” 

“I know,” you mumble, leaning your forehead against his chest. His arms wrap around you in response, holding you snug.

“And for the record, I thought you were the most beautiful person in the world in fourth grade. Even though my world was pretty small back then, I can say now that what I thought back then still stands true.” 

You look up from his embrace, where he’s leaning down to press a slow, cotton soft kiss to your forehead. He backs up a little to read your face, and you give a tiny nod in response to signal it’s okay. Jungkook exhales in contentment, relaxing against your frame. 

“Thanks, Kook,” you crack a smile, feeling your insecurities slowly evaporate. You feel better, light, knowing that these negative feelings are only temporary, and you’re not alone. Being in Jungkook’s arms, an honest boy turned man you’ve known all your life, it feels almost like home. 

You two stay like this for a while. Exchanging feather-like kisses, feeling irrevocably young and hopeful. Suddenly feeling emboldened, you tug him by the strings of his hoodie to press a long, hot kiss to his lips. There’s a stutter, and you’re pretty sure Jungkook choked on his saliva at the sudden change of pace but you continue, letting Jungkook catch up and follow your lead. 

“Wow,” Jungkook pulls away and his lips are shiny and flushed. Adorable. You think 7th grade Jungkook would be rolling in his Naruto sheets if he knew you two would inevitably end up together. Conversely, 7th grade you would be squealing in your kitten plushie, proud that you managed to nab your childhood crush to live out all the fantasies you’ve imagined since the 4th grade. 

“Jungkook,” you let your flannel fall to the floor in a heap, only leaving your baby blue top in a thin ruched camisole. “I think I want to do the photoshoot. Can’t pass up these pretty petals, y’know?” 

He runs a hand through his hair, gaping. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” you press a wet kiss to his neck, “anyway you want me, baby. Full creative control. I want you to like this as much as I do, okay?” 

With the permission to hold the wheel, Jungkook’s lightheaded and spinning. His eyes rake up and down your gorgeous form, wondering how many good deeds he’s done in his past life to earn a right just as this. 

“In that case,” he presses a palm to your shoulder, pushing you to sit along the velvet cushion, “strip for me.” 

[broadwayandnetflix]

OMG- BO FIC REQUEST

a fluffy fic where he takes you out to a fancy dinner. picks you up at your house & meets your parents, driving to the place, all that pizazz- and more if you decide to write! Im a big fucking sucker for the romantics as you can see LMFAO.

Meet The Parents - Bo Burnham x Reader

Warnings: Language

Theme: Fluff! Slight bit of Angst.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: picture this as like his what tour cause it fits up with the college timeline hoes. also, I hope you like that I added an airport, cause rom-com shit amirite? I’ll stop. wooooooo this is so long. I hope y’all like essays cause fuck.

It had been too long since you had last seen your boyfriend, Bo. The two of you had met in college at NYU briefly before he dropped out to pursue his comedy career.

Of course, you have been supportive. Why wouldn’t you be? You just really missed him, especially when he went on long tours, you in school, and him touring the world.

The two of you kept in touch. Bo often taking the time to call you before or after a show to hear your voice and call himself down. You knew what they did to his anxiety, and not being able to hold each other was difficult for the both of you.

He’d do the same for you, without a shadow of a doubt. Especially when school was stressing you out, and exams and essays were becoming a pain in the ass to handle. Even if it was just little funny texts or messages, he helped you.

It’s what you did for each other. You were a team, even if it was states away from each other. Except, luckily for you, his tour was ending soon. Or it should be, judging by the tiny calendar of dates that he gave you.

It was nearing Thanksgiving Break, and it just didn’t seem applicable that you’d be able to meet up in time. Given the short week window and Bo riding down from nearly a year of touring.

So you didn’t say much, as you packed your bags for the week and left for your home state.

The airplane ride wasn’t that bad. You wished that you had Bo beside you, cracking jokes to calm the inevitable way that your heart would jolt when you went up in the air. Unlike Bo, you absolutely hated flying.

Earbuds in, you strolled into the airport a tad bit jet-lagged and went to grab a bite from a small coffee shop. Slipping the cashier a twenty, you walked the airport in search of your luggage.

Through a sea of people, you trudged, already feeling fatigued and just wanting a nap. You didn’t even realize that you were gonna run smack dab into someone. That is until their hand shot up and held you steady.

You laughed pathetically and cringed quickly, going to apologize, hoping that the person who caught you would just keep moving on. Except, they still stood in front of you, silent as ever.

“Hey man look I’m so sorry, I’m just so tired I didn’t even see where I was going.” you mumbled before realizing just who you were speaking to.

Bo.

You froze, staring at the man in pure confusion. How was he here when he was supposed to still be on tour? You rubbed your eyes, wondering if he’d still be there when you reopened them.

News flash, Bo was still there. Fuck.

“Holy shit,” you murmured, realizing your hands were still full with your bag, phone, and lunch.

God, you were gonna cry; this wasn’t happening. He looked so fucking good, the glasses, the hair.

He watched you quietly, a soft smile resting upon his lips. While you clumsily pull on his arm to get out of the ongoing traffic of people around you, preferably a spot with a place to put your stuff.

Your tall boyfriend lumbering after you unbeknownst to you, trying to compose himself. It had practically been months since he had seen you last, and you had never looked more beautiful.

Once you set them down gently, you practically ran into the man’s arms. His bags gently fall to the floor as his arms are securely wrapped around you. Nearly lifting you off the ground.

The two of you rocked gently in the embrace, completely lost in each other. Bo resting his head on top of yours, pressing soft kisses upon your head. Tears softly pour down your cheeks and onto his shirt. Giving him enough time to wipe them away and plant a soft kiss against your lips.

“Bo, what are you doing here? I thought you were still on tour.” you sniffled, still wrapped up in his arms.

“Managed to make things work, I wanted to see you. Or I was gonna try and surprise you at the gate, but you kinda…ran into me.” Bo smirked, looking down at you.

“Well you definitely surprised me, man I really missed you.” you said quietly.

“Honey, you don’t understand how long I’ve waited for this moment. I swear my agents are probably sick and tired of me talking about you.” he exclaimed, causing you to smile.

This long-distance was really starting to get to the two of you; of course, his tour was gonna be over soon. Except, especially two different states away from each other, it made your heart hurt.

Moments like these, you wanted to just pause the time and exist in them forever. It seemed like between the two of you, you were running out of time. Just how much time exactly?

It was almost as if he could sense the hesitation as he swept up his bags and yours in the process.

“Just realized, we’ve got places to be.” he chirped, and you eyed him curiously.

“Like where?” you said, grabbing your coffee and bag from the coffee shop.

“Patience is a virtue my dear.” he tuts and slips his hand between yours. “Now, where’s your luggage terminal?”

-

It was roughly a forty-minute drive from the airport to your place. Bo had rented a car for the next couple of days, so it was smooth sailing from that point on.

Bo behind the wheel, and you are sitting in the passenger trying to figure out what music to play.

It didn’t help that you were in the car with a comedian, as whatever song you picked, Bo would pretend to critique it. Only sending you into a fit of hysterics.

“Oh okay, well you pick the music then!” you cried, pretending to stare daggers at him.

“I’ve got something for you, it’s this brand new artist I found while on tour.” he grinned, looking over at you briefly before focusing back on the road.

“His name is….Bo Burnham I think? I could be wrong? He was good-“ he said nonchalantly before earning a quick swipe to his arm from you.

“God, you look cute when you’re angry. You’re missing out on that Bo Burnham guy, he’s got potential.” he said.

“I hate you.” you giggle before finding a more comfortable position in the car.

“Oh shit you know what I just realized?” Bo yelped, causing you to slightly jolt in your seat.

“What?”

“Isn’t this the first time I’m meeting your parents?” he asked, causing you to slightly stiffen in your seat.

Technically, yes. It wasn’t like your parents didn’t know, it’s more so that there was never really a good time for them to meet. You wondered what they’d think, dating someone who dropped out of college to pursue comedy.

Not that your parents were judgmental. They wanted you to be happy, as any parents would. You just were worried if they wouldn’t respect and love Bo as much as you did. It had been close to two years at this point; what else did you have to lose?

“You are right, oh dear god. I wonder how that’s gonna go, hopefully well, right?” you ask, more so to yourself than Bo.

“Oh please, I’m great with people’s parents. Plus, they raised you, I’m sure they are great people. Babe, you’ve got nothing to worry about.” he reassured before continuing on the route.

-

It wasn’t long before he pulled into your family driveway, pulling the car into park, quickly placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“You ready?” he says quietly, looking at you sweetly.

You eyed the front door before looking back and meeting his eyes, nodding, as he leaned in to give you a quick kiss.

God, you missed those.

“Here goes nothing.” you smirk before slipping out of the passenger side and gather your bags.

Bo now follows suit as you knock on the door, his taller frame towering over you. One hand pressed on the small of your back, holding you steady.

The front door opens with a swing, with your mother greeting you at the door. A firm grin upon her lips as she rushes out to hug you, your father appearing behind her.

“Oh I’m so glad you were able to come home! We missed you so much!” she exclaims, squeezing you tighter.

Before giving you a slight nudge and knowing look towards Bo, who had remained oblivious, while he shook hands with your father.

All of you gather inside your house, Bo taking control of the conversation when acceptable.

Sitting down at the kitchen table, your parents are engulfed in his stories and laughing at his jokes. All the while getting to know the man that you loved so much.

Bo was pretty much a natural when it came to impressing others, and you knew it wasn’t gonna be an issue with your parents.

The two of you answering almost any questions, Bo excitingly telling the story of how the two of you met.

-

“Oh I almost forgot, I need you to do me a favor.” Bo murmured when the two of you had a moment to be alone.

You looked up at him in confusion before he mentioned something about dressing up nice. A knowing look upon his lips before giving you a slight wink and walking off towards the guest room.

There you stood, gaping like a fish in wonderment at what he possibly could be planning. Slowly walking into your childhood bedroom, looking for anything that would meet his description of nice.

You settled for something that you wore to a formal gathering that still managed to fit you. Giving yourself a quick look in the mirror, you left your bedroom to find Bo standing there.

You had to hold back a gasp; the man looked rather handsome in a dress shirt and pants. His hair was nicely done, and his hand gestured out for you to take.

“Bo what is all this for?” you exclaim, as he only smirks and leads you towards the front door.

“Shut up, I’ve been wanting to take you out for months.” he says as he opens it and leads you towards his car.

The man practically doing the whole nine yards, all the while you looking at him in pure wonderment. Of course, the two of you had been on dates prior, but never like this.

You had to practically stop yourself from grinning as he suavely got into the driver’s side of the car., Giving a quick glance over at you unbeknownst to you, trying not to melt at how gorgeous you looked.

“Where are we going?” you ask as he starts the car slowly pulling out of the driveway.

“You ask a lot of questions my dear.” he says, keeping his eyes focused on the road.

“Oh shit is this my execution?” you smirk as he dramatically nods.

“Babe, how the hell did you find out? Who told you? Was it my manager? I knew she’d rat me out!” he exclaims.

“You know I had to be certain, you did make me dress up all nice and all.” you play along, grinning ear to ear.

“Oh well, I can’t give away the entire surprise so zip it with the questions sweetie.” he quips as he continues the drive.

-

It’s not long before he pulls into a fancy Italian restaurant, way out of your usual pay range. You could feel your stomach do somersaults, giving the man an incredulous look.

Bo simply grins as he gets out of the car, rushing over to open yours for you. Eyes wide, still staring at him like he was fucking insane. He shakes his head and carefully pulls you out of the car.

“Now no complaints. Or whatever you plan to do. I’m paying, I’ve been wanting to treat you like this for over a year now. I’m doing it, and I’m gonna enjoy doing it.” Bo huffs, all dignified.

You simply nod in disbelief before he slips his hand within yours. While he enters the restaurant, he mentions his reservations to the hostess, and they seat you at a table.

Once the butterflies subsided in your stomach, you took the attention of the man in front of you. Never had anyone done something like this for you. You were trying to not look like a genuine fool with the smile you wanted to express.

You knew he was the one for you, but the way that he had looked at you. The pure adoration in his eyes and how he had planned everything, you were practically melting.

“I love you.” you whisper, wondering if he could hear it.

He did.

Bo looked up from his menu, a blush now practically kissing his cheeks. He dimples, rising at the declaration before reaching across the table since he was large enough to kiss you gently.

He was quick enough as the waitress came over to take your order. That goofy lovesick grin still plastered across his face as he straightened up in his seat.

The two of you ordering whatever looked best on the menu, clinking glasses when they arrived and looking dreamily into each other’s eyes.

“Man, I missed you. Like I know I say it a lot, but I mean I did. Going on tour is….well it’s lonely. I know you’re still in school, but sweetie. When I’m done, you’ll be sick of me. I promise.” Bo said insistently.

“No I won’t, I’m sure it’s gonna be the other way around. I don’t know if I say it enough, but I really am proud of you. I am so proud to call you my boyfriend, to call you mine. I don’t mind waiting.” you say quietly.

“How did I get so lucky?” he paused, eyeing the plates of food that were coming your way.

“Thank NYU, they did all the work.” you joke, thanking the waitress before digging into the meals.

The food was excellent; it was incredibly worth the price. Even if it was steep, the dinner was lovely. Bo is cracking jokes and telling you his favorite fan encounters that have occurred since his tour began.

It was hard to believe that the man who was often so quiet and shy could be so loud and brave enough to yell at hecklers. Except you could believe it, you had obviously been to one of his shows.

It made your heart begin to flutter at the fact that he wasn’t afraid to be himself around you; it made you feel secure.

The way his stage presence dominated the scene, it was practically impossible to keep your eyes off of him. No matter the situation.

Even now, his eyes glimmer while he tells you whatever story he had dug up. This was his passion, and you reveled in it all.

The night went well as the two of you caught up, knowing it would be quite some time before he’d meet up with you again. As he too had Thanksgiving to celebrate with his family in Massachusetts.

You shared a nice dessert, and he left a rather hefty tip simply because he could. Bo never made it necessary to note that he had money, but you knew he was excited to spend it.

All the while, you spent the night in a dizzying smile. Not giving a shit whether anyone knew it or not, even in the parking lot. The two of you waltzing messily towards the car, giggling and sputtering like a bunch of fools.

He was your fool, and you were his, who knew how long you’d have with him for now. You were destined to make the most of it.

Even as the ride home dwindled and you knew he’d have to catch a flight soon. You weren’t surprised or shocked even; days with him tended to be like this.

As the two of you reached your front door, Bo carefully leaned down to a comfortable position and kissed you softly. Not desperately, just tenderly. As if by the time he’d kiss you again, you’d simply wouldn’t be there.

His lips grazing yours, hands pressed carefully against your cheeks. You reciprocating all the while leaning into him in a warm embrace.

When you finally pulled away to catch your breath, he gave you a look that you knew all too well.

“I’m not saying goodbye.” you whisper into his arms.

“I’ll be back soon don’t worry.” he murmurs into your embrace.

With one last kiss on the forehead, you watch as he walks back to his car. Judging by the way his schedule worked, you knew he’d be back sooner than he would in the past.

Yet, with the soft ‘I love you’ said between the two of you couldn’t help but shed a tear and just hope that the next time would last longer.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Victor’s Belonging Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 归属之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

This date makes important references to his birthday R&S, so do read that first!

Victor’s 2021 birthday collection:

🐼 r&s l belonging date ♡ l video call l moments and texts l asmr

[ Released in CN on 8 Jan 2021 ]

Early in the morning on the weekend, I push a cardboard box into Victor’s living room, straightening up and heaving a sigh.

MC: I seem to have prepared too many ribbons... I'll just blow fewer balloons.

Scanning the slightly empty and spacious room, I retrieve decorations from within the cardboard box.

Victor has been busy with business trips recently. Even though I know he’d return on his birthday, I still feel a little uneasy.

In order to avert the abrupt circumstances like last year, I called him in advance to tell him about my “action plan”.

He seems to have gotten used to the festive rituals I insist upon, and has agreed to let me decorate his home. 

Just as I plan to straighten up the cushions on the sofa, the doorbell suddenly rings. 

MC: Who is it?

??: Hello, there’s a package for Mr Victor.

I open the door, and the deliveryman hands over a cardboard box. The logo of Loveland City’s zoo is printed on it. 

MC: This is...

Deliveryman: It was sent late, I’m really sorry about it! There’s been some issues at the transfer point. It should have been sent to you at the start of the year.

A little puzzled, I nod and take the box. This seems to be the first time I’m seeing a package from the zoo.

After signing for the package, I take a picture of the box and send it to Victor. 

Not long after, the phone buzzes.

Victor: Leave the box at the entrance. I’ll handle it after I’m back. 

MC: Sure, but why would the zoo send you a delivery?

Victor: I adopted a panda, so the zoo sends some merchandise every year.

MC: So they actually send such things... zoo merchandise is always in limited supply, and I’ve had to rely on snatching them up whenever I visit.

Perhaps hearing the envy in my tone, Victor chuckles softly. 

Victor: In that case, you can open it up and look if there’s anything you haven’t snatched up.

MC: Can I? I’ll open it on your behalf then!

With a few movements, I open the cardboard box. All sorts of animal plush toys are stored inside, with panda-related items featuring most often.

My line of sight roams the box, and I notice a small album.

There are pictures of one big and one small panda in the album. It records their everyday lives - eating bamboo, climbing trees, rolling around... it’s like a diary.

MC: Victor, there’s an album here too. There are two pandas in it. Which one did you adopt?

Victor: Both of them.

MC: You adopted two?

Victor: Mm, the big one was the one I mentioned to you before. The small one is its child.

Digesting this information, I mutter softly.

MC: I wonder who mentioned not having feelings towards animals...

Victor: Animals no, people yes. Providing help to endangered animals is a very normal thing.

MC: Only providing help?

Victor: ...what else?

MC: Nothing, I just think CEO Victor is really considerate to specially provide help to a father-son duo~

There’s a temporary silence at the other end of the line. I can almost picture Victor’s speechless expression at this moment. 

Victor: Say it, what kind of wicked plan have you come up with this time?

MC: It’s a serious idea! Victor, let’s find a time to visit them? I also wish to meet these two “investees” who have caught your eye.

Victor: You’re truly giving yourself more and more excuses to go out to play.

MC: I can’t?

Victor: ...forget it, we’ll go together if you want to see them.

After ending the call, I retrieve a few panda plush toys from the box, display them on the sofa, then straighten the seats. Finally, I nod in satisfaction. 

As compared to vibrantly coloured decorations, Victor should prefer these adorable plush toys.

-

A few more pages are torn from the calendar, and it’s finally Victor’s birthday.

I checked the information of his flight beforehand. Since it’s not yet time for the plane to land, I prepare to send my report to him first.

The sound of my phone vibrating enters my ears. Seeing the familiar name flashing on the screen, I pick up the call in slight confusion.

MC: Victor? You’ve already reached?

Victor: I just reached. Slightly earlier than expected. 

MC: This means I'm the first person to receive your call~ I’ll just say it first - I’ve already prepared my report, and just have to tap the send button.

Victor: Looks like you have a lot of confidence in this report. Since you're done with work, head out with me in the afternoon.

I freeze for a moment. This year, Victor’s birthday happens to be on a working day. I originally planned to celebrate with him in the evening after work.

I didn’t expect that Victor, who has always been serious about work, would think of having a day of rest. I can’t help but tease him.

MC: Is CEO Victor skipping work? 

Victor: I’m giving you a break too. A certain someone has been rushing work for so many days, and I’m letting you rest for a while.

My heart stirs, and I seem to understand something.

MC: Seems like I'm not the only person looking forward to today?

After a moment of silence on the other end of the line, his voice sounds, carrying with it a smile. 

Victor: I shouldn’t be the only one wanting to meet earlier either. I’ll get my luggage, and will see you in around two hours.

-

At the agreed time, Victor’s car appears punctually at the bottom of the office building.

I jog and get into the car. He sits on the driver’s seat quietly, his coat half open, revealing a somewhat familiar grey coloured shirt.

There seems to be some tiny creases at his collar that haven’t been ironed smoothly, but the angle at which the collar encases his neck looks very suitable.

Perhaps due to the rays of light falling on his shoulders, or perhaps due to the warm wind blowing in the car, the image before me feels especially warm despite it being winter.

I pull on his arm to take a look, then nod in satisfaction.

MC: Who picked this shirt? It feels as though it makes CEO Victor look especially dashing!

Victor looks at me, the corners of his lips tugging upwards.

Victor: Blowing your own trumpet.

MC: You wore it yourself. Doesn’t this prove that the choice of gift was a success?

Victor: I wonder who splayed it on the middle of the bed, only missing a note saying “Wear this today”.

MC: So do you like it or not?

Victor: Passable.

I purse my lips, pulling aside my own coat. Deliberately straightening up, I beckon him to look at the matching shirt I’m wearing.

MC: Cough cough. Is it really just “passable”?

Victor seems to be taken aback for a moment. Then, a smile quickly softens his expression.

Victor: The car isn’t warm yet. Don’t rush to remove your coat.

He reaches out to pull up the zipper. With a pause, he pulls it down slightly, stopping at the chest region.

I follow his gaze and lower my head to take a look. Like this, it just happens to reveal my shirt.

Glancing at our similar colours, I can’t help but laugh secretly in my heart.

Victor: In general, there’s an improvement in taste. A little better than what I expected.

MC: Thank you for your praise, CEO Victor. In that case, should I maintain this standard in the future?

Victor: You can. All right, let’s go. Fasten your safety belt.

MC: Where are we going?

Victor: Didn’t you want to see the pandas? There will be fewer visitors in the zoo on a working day.

While Victor speaks, he starts the car, inputting the destination into the navigation system.

MC: We’re going right now? But today... I thought you’d prefer a quieter birthday.

Victor: By “quieter”, do you mean by displaying a huge bunch of plush toys at home?

MC: They’re so cute, so I accidentally...

I grin while meeting his look of distaste, and something occurs to me.

MC: But if we're going there today, I could get to know your panda friends by matching them against the photographs.

Seeing me take out the photo album from my bag and giving it a flip, Victor raises his brows in slight shock.

Victor: You even brought their photographs around?

MC: I was originally going to make you a mini photo wall, but couldn’t finish it in time. I planned to bring you the photographs in the evening, so I put them in my bag. Come to think of it, I don’t know what names you gave them.

[Note] This is a contradiction?? Because MC clearly mentioned Little Vick in a pretty old Moment post...

Victor: I didn’t give them names.

MC: Why not?

Victor: I only paid the adoption fees. The rest depends entirely on the zoo staff’s care, so there’s no need to leave them with anything.

MC: But if they don’t have names, how would you recognise them later?

Victor: Do you rely on names to recognise people?

MC: Oo... It’s mainly the face I guess.

Victor: Animals are the same. If you observe their unique traits, you’ll naturally be able to identify them.

The afternoon sunlight is somewhat glaring. I lift my head to avoid the light, and look at Victor in the rearview mirror.

He has a serious expression, but for some reason, I think of a particular fine and sunny weekend we once had, when the light also encased us like this. 

At that time, the person beside me had used an ink-less brush, secretly leaving a mark related to him on me.

The car pauses at the crossing, waiting for the red light. Victor straightens the visor for me, turning his head to meet my gaze. 

Victor: Why are you staring at me?

MC: I suddenly thought about how someone doesn’t name pandas, yet would write his own name on my face. Doesn’t this mean I’m important to him?

Victor: Good that you know it.

The red light flickers. Victor averts his gaze, staring at the front. Suddenly, he laughs.

Victor: But from what I see now, I’ve already been influenced by a dummy.

The visor shields me from the glaring sunlight, and also makes my vision clearer.

Whether it’s the matching shirt or the Shiba Inu keychain swinging on the car keys...

These seemingly trivial, ordinary and small details clearly reflect the traces that I’ve left on him.

-

Even though it’s a working day, there are still quite a number of people visiting the pandas in the zoo.

Following the crowd, we take a slow stroll. Many children run past us happily.

Right after walking to the panda area, I see many people congregated at the railings and observing.

Pulling Victor over, rounded panda “dumplings” immediately attract my full attention.

A few young pandas are currently climbing and having fun on wooden poles. Occasionally, they’d bump into each other and roll onto the ground. After exerting energy to flip over, they’d once again climb to the location of their choice.

As if intoxicated and stupefied, I stare at them for a very long time before remembering that the panda baby Victor had adopted could be in their midst. Hurriedly, I take out the photographs from my bag to make comparisons.

However, the pandas before me seem to be carved from the same mold. The colour of their fur are the same, and they are similar in size. There seems to be too much to take in.

I turn my head to look at Victor, who’s next to me. He seems to guess what I’m thinking, and speaks straight away.

Victor: You haven’t identified it?

MC: It’s a little difficult.

Victor points at a panda which is currently climbing a wooden pole.

Victor: That one.

MC: How can you be so certain?

Victor: It injured its leg a few months ago. During the treatment, there was a need to trim the fur around the injury. Look at its hind leg - some of its fur is newly grown.

Fixing my eyes on it, the back of the panda’s right hind leg has a small tuft of relatively shorter fur. Without a careful look, one would think it’s a normal dip.

Flipping and looking through the photos, I realise that it’s actually the case.

Just as I’m about to awe at how Victor is truly perceptive to the finest detail, I suddenly realise something. 

MC: Wait, you mentioned that it’s been a few months... Have you always been keeping watch on them?

Victor: The staff will regularly provide feedback on their situation.

MC: So your e-mail isn’t filled only with reports from employees.

Victor: My life doesn’t just consist of work.

He doesn’t respond to my teasing gaze, and he continues looking at the pandas playing freely and leisurely in the garden.

Victor: Are you here to look at the pandas or me?

I respond without giving it much thought.

MC: Both!

Victor: ...

Victor shakes his head in resignation, pulling on my hand as we weave through the crowd.

Victor: There are too many people here. Let’s walk forward.

We walk and pause, following the park’s signboards. Gradually, a patch of empty land appears in my view.

A staff member is currently stacking bamboo next to tree trunks and wooden poles, as though waiting for the pandas to feast.

I tug on Victor to stop. After staying in place for a while, I see a big panda pacing over slowly.

It doesn’t seem to care about how many people are watching it. It heads towards the food, picking a comfortable position to sit down.

Flipping to the photograph of the Daddy Panda eating bamboo, I lift it up to compare it with the panda in front of me.

MC: Victor, isn’t this the panda Uncle gave to you? Its posture of leaning against the tree trunk is exactly the same as in the photo!

Victor leans down and looks over, nodding lightly.

Victor: Yes.

MC: Really? We’re so lucky to meet both of them.

Just as Victor is about to say something, the voice of a small boy suddenly drifts towards us.

Small boy: Little... Vick. Its name is Little Vick!

I’m stunned for a moment, turning my head to find the source of the voice. A small boy is being carried in the arms of his parents, reading out the name based on a nearby board.

Information regarding the pandas on duty are written on the board. Its name is found at the very top, and it’s a name I couldn’t be more familiar with.

[Note] The reason why MC finds it familiar is clearer in Chinese. Victor’s name is 李泽言 (Li Ze Yan),  and the panda’s Chinese name is 言言 (Yan Yan)

Because he read the correct words, the small boy is complimented by his parents. He continues reading.

Small boy: Its a boy... and its birthday is 13 January! It’s Little Vick’s birthday today!

Turning back to look at Victor, he currently has an uncomfortable expression on his face, and he clears his throat softly.

Victor: ...my dad named it.

MC: And it happens to have the same birthday?

Victor: Mm.

I try to suppress my laughter, lowering my voice and calling out to Little Vick a few times while it’s engrossed in bamboo.

MC: Little Vick-- We’re here to see you--

Victor: [sighs] ...

MC: Little Vick-- Wishing you a happy birthday--

Victor: Childish.

Victor pretends to have a stern look his poker face, but I can still see the gradually reddening tips of his ears.

I laugh while standing in front of him, straightening my back under his reluctant gaze.

MC: On behalf of myself and Little Vick, we also wish Mr Victor a happy birthday. Don’t feel embarrassed. Your father used your name to name your favourite thing. It’s called “loving the house and its crows”. 

[Note] MC uses an idiom, 爱屋及乌 ( “ai wu ji wu”), which literally translates to “love the house and the crows”. This conveys the depth of someone’s love to the point where you like everything related to that person.

Victor: Do you apply the same principle when you enthusiastically name all sorts of objects?

MC: I don’t just name everything. After all, I also “love the house and its crows”. For instance, I used to think that all pandas were very adorable... But right now, I think Little Vick is the cutest.

Only after saying all this in one breath do I feel slightly embarrassed. I hurriedly turn around, taking out my phone to take pictures of Little Vick, wanting to hide the heat on my face. 

While snapping photos, I watch for Victor’s reaction. But even after a long time, there isn’t a sound from behind me, and I can’t help but turn around.

“Kacha.”

The golden, dazzling sunlight spreads from behind him, glinting brightly around his raised phone.

Before I can prepare my expression, I see Victor’s phone camera facing me.

He retracts his phone, smiling as he looks at the screen.

MC: [blushing] You... you snuck a photo of me!

Seeing that I’m reaching out to snatch his phone, Victor grabs my wrist, quickly keeping his phone in his pocket.

Victor: This is just a response to your words earlier.

MC: What does that mean?

Victor smiles, his deep eyes filled with my profile.

Victor: It means that there are many dummies in the world... But I only like the one in front of me.

-

Returning home from the zoo, VIctor’s sudden words repeatedly circle my mind.

In order for him not to realise my state of mind, I take out the ingredients I had prepared in advance the moment I reach home, preparing to burrow into the kitchen to cook.

Victor naturally walks to my side, wanting to take the bags in my hand. I frantically press down on his hand.

MC: Hold on, don’t help. I’ll do it myself!

Victor: There are so many things and you want to do it yourself?

MC: Don’t worry, I’ve practiced at home and can guarantee that I have a knowledge of the fundamentals, and won’t blow up your kitchen. Also, you’re the elderly person whose birthday is being celebrated. So you shouldn’t work. Oh yes, aside from this shirt, I’ve also hidden a few presents at home. Want to look for them? 

[Note] MC REALLY USED THE WORD 寿星 ( “shou xing”) which could mean “God of Longevity” or “elderly person whose birthday is being celebrated” LOL

I say everything in one breath, not giving him a chance to retort.

Under my expectant gaze, Victor sighs in resignation, then says a few more words before leaving the kitchen.

-

With the fastest speed I can manage, I finish cooking. While bringing the dishes to the table, Victor places some gift boxes onto the sofa.

Victor: I’ve found three. That’s all, isn’t it?

MC: Not just these. You could look in other rooms.

Victor: [sighs] Looks like you really planned to prepare a hundred gifts.

MC: I didn’t do it on purpose. When I saw those things, I subconsciously  thought of you. But right now, I should invite CEO Victor to test my culinary skills!

After the meal, Victor finds a few more gifts. After giving them a count, I realise there’s still one more missing.

Victor: Why are there more?

MC: The final gift is very critical. I’ll help you get it.

I head straight to Victor’s bedroom. Removing the blanket, I retrieve a long box from a crevice at the corner of the bed.

Victor has his arms crossed over his chest as he stands at the side, watching as I make a show of straightening the ribbon on the gift box.

MC: Don’t worry, there aren’t any weird presents this time. Before, I was always sending you things I liked, but those things weren’t what you liked. So this year, I want to give you some gifts that you need.

Opening the gift box, I take out the tie that I picked out, and display it from all angles. 

MC: There aren’t pictures of happy faces, and it doesn’t have a strange colour. You can wear it to work!

Victor looks at me, then walks to the side of the bed and leans down.

Victor: Since a certain someone is doing her utmost to recommend it, I shall see how it looks. 

MC: I’ll put it on for you!

It’s rare for Victor to be interested in my presents. I immediately climb up from the bed, flipping his collar up and fastening the tie.

This distance makes the side of his face close enough to touch. His warm breaths are on my shoulder, and I have to force myself to focus on the tie.

With much difficulty, I tie the tie into a basic shape. Victor’s low voice suddenly drifts to my ear. 

Victor: This seems to be the first time I’m seeing you wear a proper shirt.

MC: It looks good, doesn’t it?

Victor doesn’t respond. He simply smiles, tidying the back of my collar.

Victor: It’s also the first time I’ve seen you cooking without being clumsy.

MC: Of course I needed to perform properly when cooking in your kitchen. 

Victor: It’s also the first time we’re visiting the zoo on a day-off from work.

MC: It’s already the fourth year, and there are still so many firsts?

Victor: Is that a bad thing? Since they are all first times, you can create so-called surprises.

The words at my ear, bringing with them a smile, create ripples in my heart. My hands pause, and I lift my head to look at him.

MC: May I ask CEO Victor - does this mean you’re satisfied with today?

Victor: This isn’t about whether I’m satisfied.

Victor pulls down my hand which is holding onto the tie, beckoning me to sit down.

Just as I plan to scoot over to give him some space, I realise that he has seated down directly on the carpet next to the bed.

MC: Someone always reminds me that the floor is cold. So why is he still sitting on the floor?

Victor: The first time you came to my house, you seem to have said similar words.

While speaking, he tugs the blanket upwards before it slides down my shoulder.

Lowering my head to look at him, the “first time” he’s referring to surfaces in my mind.

The CEO who wilfully lay down on the floor to settle work, and also wilfully had a light sleep in the middle of the piano tune.

He lifts his head to look at me, his teasing gaze unconcealed and bright in the light. The tie, which hasn’t been fastened properly, hangs loosely on his neck.

Without even realising it, his relaxed appearance has become something I've grown used to.

Images in my memories and the person before me gradually match up. I can’t suppress the smile creeping onto my lips, but complain about him anyway.

MC: Victor, you’re really wilful sometimes.

Victor: I learnt it from someone.

MC: ...cough cough. Back to the earlier topic! Could the elderly birthday person please assess today’s plans, and let me gain some experience.

Victor: Everything about today, whether the itinerary or the gifts - I’m very happy with them. Not just today. Every year before this as well.

MC: If you put it that way, I can’t tell how to make it even better. After all, even though it’s been so long, you’ve never directly mentioned what you like.

Victor chuckles softly.

Victor: There’s no need to mention them. When it comes to these things, your efforts always surpass my expectations. Also, the feelings and time you expend - they are even more precious gifts than anything else.

A clamour of emotions ferment in my chest, and I finally peek my head out from the blanket.

MC: Am I one step closer to moving you to tears?

Victor: Judging from your skills in tying a tie, you’re still very far from it. But this is already very good.

As the curtain of night falls, the world outside the window gradually becomes quiet. The ticking of the clock’s secondhand at the bedside becomes clearer.

I glance at the time, and it’s already quite late. 

MC: Today’s coming to an end. I’m a little reluctant to part with with it.

Victor: Reluctant to part with the off-day?

MC: Nope. I just feel as though you’ll get busy again after today... You won’t just be my Victor.

I mutter softly, but Victor still hears it. He curls his finger and taps my forehead.

Victor: Who says I'm not? From work to life, which part lacks a certain person’s shadow? Also, other than you, I've never belonged to anyone.

MC: Does this count as a return gift from an elderly man celebrating his birthday?

Victor: It’s just the truth.

I smile while tightening the blanket over myself, shuffling towards him quietly.

MC: But the opportunities to spend time with you without any worries like this are very limited. How do you want to spend the remainder of today?

Victor looks at me, then straightens up to sit with me at the side of the bed.

Victor: For the rest of the time, let’s just stay like this.

I subconsciously loosen my grip on the blanket. He takes the blanket, leans closer to me, and bundles me in it tightly.

The irritating sound of the secondhand suddenly vanishes. In the tranquil night, only the light in the eyes of the person next to me continues flowing and glinting.

Victor: Being without any worries like you wanted - it can be prolonged a little. Also, not just today. Anytime in the future - as long as you want it, it can be done.

🐼 Phone call: here

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[collecting-stories]

3am Friend - c. 01 - Topper Thornton

Summary: Topper and y/n have been in a “friends with benefits” relationship since September but the line between friendship and something more are already starting to blur. 

A/N: This is basically four chapters: Fall, Winter, Spring, and Summer. Also it’s going to be a bit of a practice run at writing more smut for me lol. Also it’s smut like, right under the cut lol. 

Sophomore Year Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

What were you doing with your life...

You bit down on your bottom lip to stifle a moan as Topper’s tongue pressed against your clit, the cold tiled wall of the shower stall pressing into your back had your skin erupting in goosebumps, a contrast to the almost burning water that was hitting you. It was futile to bother concealing whatever noises Topper managed to pull out of you, the curtains of the shower stalls did little to shield their occupants from the rest of the communal bathroom, the plastic more often than not creating the perfect outline of whoever decided to use the showers. There would be no mistaking you, pressed against the wall, one leg tossed over Topper’s shoulder, his own figure silhouetted, kneeling in front of you with his hands digging into your hips.  

If anyone did find you there was a 90% chance that they weren’t just going to let you off with a ‘sorry for intruding while some guy eats you out in the shower’ but any concern you actually had about the consequences of your hookup had died the minute Topper had joined you in the shower stall. Technically he’d texted you to come over to his dorm, he lived right off the main campus, close to your building, in a still operational fraternity house. He split a room with some guy who liked to stare but never actually talk when you came around. Yours was not a relationship of anything substantial. You’d hooked up with Topper at a party and exchanged numbers and, two days later, responded to a very obvious booty call at one in the morning.  

“Holy shit!” You cursed, your voice coming out an octave higher than usual, fingers gripping Topper’s short blond hair. You could feel every muscle in your body tense as you tried to keep yourself upright, your other hand grabbing hold of the dial on the faucet in a desperate attempt to not completely fall apart as Topper sucked on your clit. He had moved one of his hands at some point, middle finger now moving rhythmically in and out of your entrance, working you through an orgasm.  

When you came down, your muscles relaxing and you pushing back against the wall to keep yourself steady, leg slipping off Topper’s shoulder, he stood up. He caged you in almost immediately, moving as close as possible in the stall and kissing you, the salty taste of cum still there on his mouth. “That pad really comes in handy,” he teased, referring to the silicone mat you’d bought two weeks earlier to scrub your feet without trying to do a yoga pose in the shower.  

You hummed, “I’ll leave that in my review on Amazon. Great for not bruising your knees.” When he kissed you again you smiled, eyes fluttering closed for a split second. This was the worst part. The part when you ran out of things to say and he would untangle himself from your arms and leave, promise to text you later.  

It was the thing that your roommate had warned you about in the beginning that you had ignored.  

“That’s like, not even friends with benefits though.” She had admonished when you told her for the first time that you had started this bizarre relationship with Topper. “I mean, you’re literally having casual sex with some rando guy that you hooked up with at a party. At a frat party. Do you even fucking know anything about him?”

“I know his name,” you had replied, rummaging through your closet to find something to wear to class, “and his phone number so I can booty call him.”

“Brilliant.” She snapped, “he could be some fucking weirdo axe murderer preying on college girls.”  

You rolled your eyes, “he’s the same age as us.” You had never been one for casual sex in your life until this point and you weren’t sure why it seemed enticing now but you wanted to branch out a little. You’d gotten your first boyfriend in ninth and you’d stuck with him until August of this, your sophomore year of college. He broke up with you, claiming the distance between your school and his was too much for him to deal with.  

It was your roommate that had dragged you to the party at the fraternity house, claiming that it would get your mood up after the guy you’d been with for the last five years decided he couldn’t do the 2 hour commute between your school and his. Three shots of tequila later and the blond you couldn’t take your eyes off of asking if you wanted to ‘go somewhere quiet’ were all the motivation you needed to put the past behind you and stop groveling over a guy who wasn’t even there.  

Still, the fact remained, even now as Topper put his hands on your hips, looking at you through the mirror and kissing the back of your head, you knew that casual sex was not your forte. Not simply because you had never done it before but because you found yourself craving those small, just after when the bubble had broken yet and there was still some lingering affection, moments as much as you craved the sex. But you had both agreed, casual. Something to take your mind off school for a few hours, a stress relief. For you it was more than that. You’d never been the most confident when it came to sex or your body, all that self-love/self-care crap was wasted on you and your gnawing insecurities. Having casual sex was like constantly challenging yourself to be your most exposed and most intimate with someone who was still relatively a stranger to you.  

“You know I think it was technically supposed to be my turn,” you mentioned, running the wide-toothed comb through your hair. You should’ve detangled in the shower except that wasn’t really top priority. What would you even say, ‘oh, would you mind not eating me out for a second so I can brush my hair’…you’d live with the awkward waves that dried in.  

“I thought we switched.” Topper shrugged, pulling his sweatpants back on. His shirt went over his head and you involuntarily pouted at the mirror, there went the view.  

“No, I said…this doesn’t technically count.” You replied, referring to the party three nights earlier and the head you’d given to avoid having actual sex on your period. You were at the tail end and you’d contemplated not going to the frat house at all but changed your mind at the last moment.  

“Hey, if you’re offering, I’m not gonna turn you down.” He joked.  

You turned to look at him, the mirror not sufficing as you stuck your tongue out playfully. “I have a test tomorrow, I have to study.”  

“Come over, you can study in my room. We’ll hang out.”  

“We are incapable of hanging out Topper.” You replied, grabbing your shower caddy and heading for the door. He walked right out after you, both of you ignoring the rather appreciative stare of one of the other girls on your floor.  

“Not true,” he’d suffered a nasty break-up in high school that he gave no more background to other than to say she had cheated on him extensively. Casual seemed to be the best he could allow himself to do though you weren’t sleeping with anyone else and, as far as you knew, neither was he.  

Your roommate looked up from her desk, rolling her eyes at the sight of Topper following you into your dorm. In the beginning of September, when this first started, it felt like you only ever disappeared at night. You saw Topper when he texted you and you might smile in the café but you never actively sought each other out. Now it was creeping toward November though, with Halloween right around the corner, and Topper felt like an accessory. He was always right there wherever you were, not that you were complaining. To anyone on the outside you looked like a couple but you both maintained the friends with benefits story.  

“Oh look who it is.” Almost two whole months of him and your roommate still greeted Topper with a disdainful glare. She was fervent in her belief that the guy you thought was damn near perfect (if only he’d actually date you) was hiding some deep-seated flaw.  

“Hey G,” Topper greeted, taking a seat on your bed as if he couldn’t tell just how annoyed your roommate was.  

-

Geena and you had been thrown together after enduring a freshman year from hell. Her roommate from the year prior had been awful, like caging yourself in with some 00’s mean girl who only found satisfaction in watching you suffer. Your own freshman roommate had been neurotic about the dorm and constantly scrutinized whether your cleaning methods were sufficient. Geena was a blessing, you got along well, hung out all the time, had become fast friends in the short time since the beginning of the semester. Topper was the only thing you didn’t agree on. She thought it was unhealthy, that it would only lead to heartbreak.  

“You can’t have casual sex with a guy for three years…people already think you’re dating. Some girl I don’t even know asked me if I could get her into a Phi Sig party next week cause my roomie is dating one of the guys.” There was a new reason almost daily with Geena, like she tore away a new page on the calendar and it offered up cons to your relationship with Topper in lieu of a word for the day.  

“I can ask for her.”  

“Oh my god, that is not the point.” She snapped.  

You sighed, “I don’t really care if people think we’re dating.”

“Why?” She asked the question so smugly you already knew where she was going with this. And you knew why it didn’t bother you that people thought you were dating, why you sometimes even fanned that flame.  

“G-“

“No, tell me why? People usually keep that shit quiet so they can hook-up with other people too. So why don’t you care?”  

“Because if people think we’re dating…they won’t try to date him.” You shrugged, practically mumbling the last part. You hated that she knew that off the bat, that she could tell that you liked him so much in such a short span of time. And you knew she had a point to all her antagonizing. You had been in too deep since two weeks into September when he told you that you looked pretty in something your ex always said made you look fat.  

-

You held the seam of your towel shut as you rummaged through the set of plastic drawers underneath your bed. Geena had done the bed on risers thing for optimal storage and you had followed along, semi grateful for the added space since both of you seemed inclined to transport your entire bedroom with you. Topper’s foot nudged your side as you got closer to him and you looked up, matching his smile when you caught him staring at you. You were sure Geena was sitting behind you rolling her eyes.  

“Guess I’ll go grab something to eat.” She announced, as if your very presence had worn her down.  

“I’m just getting changed, I think we’re heading over to Topper’s.” You replied, looking back over your shoulder at her.  

Geena scrunched her nose and stood up anyway, “still would rather not be here while you got dressed so I don’t have to pretend like I can’t see this one leering at you.” She shot Topper a look of contempt as she passed. If it was real, if he asked you out and he was really, actually, your boyfriend, Geena was positive she’d have no problems with him. He seemed like alright and he certainly made you happier and more confident than she’d seen you in the beginning of the year. But she hated the thought of you getting hurt and didn’t want to be just sitting on the sidelines watching it happen.

“I don’t leer.” He joked, turning back to you once she was out the door, “I don’t leer.”

You didn’t answer, instead grabbing your underwear out of the top drawer and pulling them on once the door was shut. The first time you had ever gotten dressed with Topper around you’d made sure that you were obscured from view, still too bashful and self-conscious of the way that you looked without clothes on. There was still that split second moment when you doubted yourself, when you thought about maneuvering your towel to hide your body from view, as if after two months Topper might suddenly look at you and decide he didn’t like the softness of your stomach or the width of your hips or any other imperfection you could find.  

You pushed through the voice though, dropping your towel and getting dressed. When you reached for the bralette your tossed on the bed beside him you realized he was looking at you. “G might have a point, maybe I should turn around.” You teased, his eyes snapping up to meet yours.  

“I’m admiring the view.” Topper replied, not at all embarrassed at being caught.  

You rolled your eyes, pulling your bralette on and adjusting your boobs until it sat right. “I don’t even know why I’m putting this on,” you mentioned, grabbing his sweatshirt to pull on over it, “I should just stop wearing underwear to your room and then I won’t ever lose it.”  

“You lose stuff? Whose wearing my hoodie right now?” He asked, grabbing the edge of the hood to pull you closer to him.  

“Your room has swallowed three of my bras...the nice ones too. Or Will like, took them.” You said.  

If there was some kind of formal set of rules that you and Topper had ever thought to draft, kissing outside of actually having sex with each other should have qualified as a major no. But nothing of the sort had ever been discussed and now, Topper leaned over, stealing a quick kiss before he got off your bed. Maybe now didn’t count as a ‘just friends’ moment though since technically you were heading back to his room, presumably to have sex. To finish what he’d started when he showed up seconds before you got a shower.  

“What would Will need your bras for?”

“To masturbate over? Who knows...all I’m saying is, I wear bras to your room, I never seem to leave with them.” You replied.  

“I promise I will find all your missing bras today, okay?” He grabbed your lanyard off the hook, keys and wallet all in one place, pulling the door open for you. “Wanna grab pizza later?”  

You chewed on your bottom lip, waiting a beat to answer him. Grabbing pizza meant, inevitably, hanging out after. Becoming friends was unavoidable, there was no way that either of you could have navigated sleeping together without some sort of relationship forming. So far it was only friendship, or at least that was all either of you were willing to let it be. Anything more than that meant an actual romantic relationship forming, something you wanted but were determined not to let yourself even entertain the idea of.  

“Fine but not from that place by Barnaby's.” You replied, pushing the door open and stepping out into the quad with him. The local bar was always teeming with college students and the last thing you wanted was someone recognizing Topper, because everyone always seemed to recognize Topper, and invite the two of you in.  

“We’ll just get it delivered.” He shrugged.  

The first time you met Topper, enough to tequila to not make you totally embarrassed as you danced with Geena in the main room of the Phi Sig frat house, you had laughed when he told you his name. It was a combination of the heels you borrowed from another girl on your floor and the alcohol that had you losing your footing, catching yourself in time not to smash your whole body into a coffee table, and landing on the couch beside Topper. He was taking a sip of beer and looked relatively startled when some almost drunk girl fell into the spot next to him.  

“Sorry!” You’d shouted over the bass as you tried to undo the straps of the heels that you were sure were also guilty of twisting your ankle.  

When he introduced himself two sentences later, “I’m Topper” you couldn’t resist a good dad-joke and smiled at him, “but I hardly know her!”

“Amazing.” He had been less amused by the joke than you were though he didn’t really seem bothered by it, at least not bothered enough to move on because he stayed on the couch for three more turns of the conversation before asking if you wanted to talk elsewhere. You were sober enough to know exactly what he meant and obliged because you were still kinda pissed at your ex and you didn’t want this year to pass the same as last year had, with nothing but school work to show as a passing of time.  

At least you’d have a good story to tell.  

Highschool you had a healthy apprehension of frat houses and the people who lived in them. You’d seen enough episodes of CSI, Law and Order, Veronica Mars, and any other crime show that existed in the early 00’s to know that frat houses were breeding grounds for terrible things. Your parents had even attempted to sway you from going to your first-choice college simply because the greeks still existed on campus. You could only imagine what they’d think now, knowing that you had spent more time in Topper’s room than you had in your own in the last month at least.  

Frat houses might’ve been sordid in your mind but so far, your reality of this one was exactly what it looked like on the surface, a bunch of guys living together with limited supervision. You still stuck to Topper whenever you were inside but you’d never had a problem with anyone in there and you rightly assumed that most of them just figured you were his girlfriend.  

“Will told me he wants that TA position next year, with Prof Berkley.” You mentioned, flopping back onto Topper’s bed and tilting your head so you could look over to the empty other side of the room that belonged to his roommate. Aside from staring at you too much and possibly stealing your bras, you still had a hunch that Topper was just messing with you and had them stashed away somewhere, Will was alright. You were both in the same area of study, pre-law, and he had told you days earlier that he was gunning for the same TA position with your advisor as you were.  

“I don’t know anything about it.” Topper replied, kicking his slides off and climbing onto his bed with you. The countdown in your head started now, hopefully soon you would be naked.  

“Yes, you do because I literally told you about it at breakfast.” You pointed out. He’d texted you that morning to get coffee with him and you ignored Geena when she told you that sex-friends don’t get coffee together. “I said I was applying for the TA spot because it’s a massive opportunity.”  

“Sounds like something I don’t have an opinion on.” He said, rolling over so that he could kiss you. “Enough chit-chat.”

“You’ve got a one-track mind Thornton.” You joked, moving your arms above your head as he pulled his sweatshirt off of you.  

“Well can I interest you in getting on that track with me?” He replied, lips brushing over your neck as he spoke. You hadn’t bothered to put on any makeup before you left your dorm, you hadn’t even bothered to dry your hair all the way. But who were you to worry about things like that when Topper was pushing your bralette up over your head.  

You jerked slightly, wriggling around on the bed when the fabric got caught half way up your arms, binding them above your head and covering your face, Topper taking advantage of the moment and sucking one of your nipples into his mouth, tongue swirling around it as you arched your back into him. “Topper!” You whined.  

He hummed, pulling away from you to take the bralette the rest of the way off and tossing it off the bed, “sorry, couldn’t resist.” He said, smiling at you as if he truly couldn’t resist. The thought made butterflies erupt in your stomach.  

You didn’t let yourself have the moment though, pulling him in for a kiss the moment he had untangled you, hand on the back of his neck as you ran your tongue against his bottom lip, biting gently as you pulled away. Topper held himself up on one elbow, his other hand pushing passed your sweatpants.  

“Always right down to business,” you teased.  

“What do you want me to take you out first?” He was joking, you knew that, but the way he said almost sounded like he truly would take you out if you wanted him to. But then what would this be, if you had dinner before you hooked up.

“Some foreplay would be nice.” You kept the conversation light, the way you always did, and he laughed.  

“I thought the shower was foreplay.”  

You would’ve answered, thought of something witty to make him laugh again, but he had pushed your underwear to the side, fingers pushing passed your folds to brush your clit. He made the same satisfied hum that he always did when he realized that you were wet, like a quiet pat on the back. His middle finger circled your clit, a barely there shudder of nerves setting off in your stomach as you moaned.  

“I was supposed to,” you managed as he shifted further down the bed and you realized what he was doing.  

“We have plenty of time.” He promised, pressing a kiss to your stomach.  

Topper hadn’t seriously dated anyone since his break-up with Sarah. Kelce told him constantly that he was putting too much on that relationship, as if it was the holy grail by which to rate every other relationship that he had. And maybe he was allowing himself to be too scorned by something that lasted little more than a summer but he couldn’t help it. Topper was nothing if not a hopeless romantic and that had felt like such an idealistic time in his life until it all inevitably crashed around him.  

He tried casual hook-ups before you. A few girls from high school that he knew that made it practically impossible for the casual to still exist alongside the hook-up. College was easier but freshman year had been mostly dedicated to rushing the fraternity that his dad and grandfather and great grandfather had all rushed before him. Then he met you at a party in the beginning of sophomore year and he told himself it was casual but he knew that this was far from it.  

You weren’t anything like Sarah and maybe he had done that on purpose. Specifically slept with someone that didn’t remind him of anyone back home as some way to separate himself from that part of his life. To fully embody the frat boy, jock, life he was trying to live through. He figured it would just be a onetime thing and then maybe a sometime thing but now it was most definitely an all the time thing. Kelce told him that he should just ask you out but Topper felt like he was in too deep already.  

This was supposed to be strictly friends with benefits, if he crossed that line and you said no he would be crushed.  

“Topper,” you moaned, bringing him back to the moment. You shuddered as he pulled his fingers out of you, placing a kiss just below your belly button. When you tugged at the short blond hairs at the back of his head he shifted, letting you lead him back up so that you could kiss him.  

You had told him specifically that it was your turn, as if he really cared about taking turns at all. “That’s the whole point, isn’t it? You don’t have some fussy girlfriend bitching about giving you head.” Rafe’s colourful comments about the situation had been largely ignored but Topper knew, less crudely, he was right. The whole reason the two of you had started this was for sex of any kind and you had been the one to suggest taking turns.  

“My ex wasn’t very forthcoming with praise. He always told me I was kinda shitty at sucking dick so, maybe it’d be kinda nice to practice.” It’s been a colourful sentiment, one you had felt oddly comfortable sharing with Topper when the two of you first sat in his room discussing the arrangement.  

And while he wholeheartedly disagreed with your ex-boyfriend, Topper just liked being the one to give. He liked that moment when everything overwhelmed you enough that you let go and stopped worrying about if you looked attractive in a certain position or if your thighs were too big or if you had any unwanted rolls. That split second between overthinking and not thinking at all was powerful and Topper liked being the one who caused it. He liked the way you looked in his bed, biting your bottom lip to keep quiet so other guys in the house didn’t hear you. The way your hair tangled just from laying on your back. He could list a million things, every one more obscure, less noticeable, than the last because he felt like when you were around all he could do was pay attention.  

“Hey, quit daydreaming about Hailey Bieber-“ you teased as Topper’s movements slowed down, his lips brushing languidly against your collar like he was in some lethargic trance.  

He squeezed your side, baring his teeth to nip at your neck, scraping them across your skin and making you laugh as you turned your head towards his. That lazy smile you got was there, eyes hooded as you watched him, the moment passed and he leaned in to kiss you again. When he broke away it was only to grab a condom from the box on his dresser.  

Topper pushed your legs apart, settling between them. He slipped one hand beneath your back, guiding it into an arch to bring your chest closer to him, mouth finding one of your breasts. His tongue pressed against your nipple, swirling around it as you dug your nails in the sheets beneath you. He looked up at you, eyes hooded, as he pushed you back down against the bed. “God,” he breathed out, “you’re so fucking gorgeous.”  

You grabbed the back of Topper’s neck, pulling him into a kiss, slower than the ones before, more tender. Your other hand moved down between your bodies, finding his dick, enjoying the way he moaned against your mouth as you guided him in. Despite the orgasm he’d given you in the shower you still felt that stretch as he pushed in, kissing across your jaw and sucking a bruise into the space just behind your ear.  

You would never tell Geena but somewhere between quick hook-ups and longer nights together your ‘just casual sex’ had turned into something else, something far more meaningful though neither of you would acknowledge it.  

Instead you just held onto him, nails scratching a trail down his back as he found a rhythm, Instead, you just held onto him, nails scratching a trail down his back as he found a rhythm, hips snapping against yours. The sound of your panting breath and his grunts filled the room; you bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning when Topper’s fingers dipped passed your folds to massage your clit.  

“Oh god, Topper,” you whined, turning your face enough to press your cheek into Topper’s pillow, the faint smell of his cologne hitting your nose. You breathed in, always a fan of the subtle musk.  

“Does that feel good baby?” His lips brushed your ear as he spoke, words barely registering over the sensation of him. You opened your legs a little further, lifting your knee and hooking your leg over his back. The angle seemed to give more depth and his movements picked up speed. His fingers circled your clit faster as he continued to whisper words of encouragement to you. A quiet “come on baby, I know you’re close”.  

“Are you?”  

His comment had seemingly brought you just out of the haze enough to ask him if he was close. You knew you were, he knew you were, and you wanted him to be there too, just on that edge with you. As he pulled out you clenched around him and when he pushed back in it felt deeper than before, that all too familiar groan of satisfaction leaving his lips as you guided him back into a kiss. He didn’t answer your question, instead taking the opportunity to kiss you, tongue working it’s way into your mouth and dragging across your teeth. You found your grip on his hair, tugging hard enough that he jerked his hips in retaliation, hitting so deep you felt yourself go off that edge, his motion become erratic as he followed, smoothing your scream with another kiss, biting your bottom lip as he pulled away.  

There was always a moment of frenzy in the beginning when you first started hooking up. You would rush to grab your clothes, partially because you felt the need to leave when the act was done and partially because you didn’t want him to linger too long on your body. You were a temporary fix for a problem he didn’t feel like dealing with on his own, he wasn’t responsible for making you feel good about yourself. He wasn’t your boyfriend, he wasn’t obligated to tell you that you were beautiful or lavish any compliment onto you at all, not that your ex had ever been willing to either. You didn’t stay, for the first few weeks you trudged back across the lawn from the frat house, back to the dorms, and snuck in. But things had changed by mid October and what was once a booty call at one in the morning when he couldn’t sleep was now you going over for pizza and a study session that turned into an afternoon spent in his bed.  

“What time is Will back?” You asked, sitting up as Topper came back into the room with two water bottles. There was still that awkward moment just after sex, as if neither of you knew how to leave behind the intimacy of the act and return to normal life. Like you were both waiting for the other to admit that maybe just friends wasn’t really what you wanted at all. So he disappeared downstairs to get water and you pulled your underwear and his sweatshirt back on, leaving the bra somewhere on the floor.  

The empty other side of the room served as a poignant reminder that time alone was only ever temporary.  

“Not sure,” he shrugged, “he’s been talking about some girl on campus that he’s dating. Won’t reveal her name apparently, he’s convinced Fitz will try to fuck with them if he finds out.” His fraternity brothers were not the same as hanging out with Kelce and Rafe every day but they weren’t the worst substitutes for entertainment. Fitz was the head of the house, a senior whose greatest claim to fame was being party to a wildly controversial radio-show that amounted to nothing more than some white guys imitating Rush Limbaugh and the Douche from Parks & Rec. He said dumb shit just to piss people off and had an unappreciated proclivity for trying to ruin any relationship one of his brothers found themselves in.  

Will was always an easy target for him though he’d set his sights on you a few times, assuming like others did, that you and Topper were dating. You had never mentioned it to Topper, Fitz was gross and you were looking forward to his inevitable graduation at the end of May.  

“Fitz totally would,” you replied. Last year you existed on no one’s radar. You hadn’t so much as gotten an offer to go out on a date with someone and yet this year, all because of Topper, you were sure, it felt like everyone in his circle seemed to pay attention to you in some way. “He told me he prank called Will’s mom two weeks ago pretending to be the on campus nurse for a bit on his radio show.”  

Topper looked up from his phone and the pizza he was ordering, frown etched onto his features. “When did you talk to Fitz?”  

“His econ class is right down the hall from my 12:30 poly sci class…he always ‘walks with me across campus’ in case I get mugged apparently.” You laughed, “I think he just does it cause he knows we hang out.”  

“I didn’t know he was talking to you.”  

You shrugged, Fitz had been goading you for weeks but it wasn’t anything that felt harmful. Just some mind-numbingly dumb conversation about parties and girls and his radio show and how hot he apparently thought you were. “It’s not a big deal, if he was bothering me I probably would’ve said something.”  

“Right,” Topper still looked miffed despite having no reason to be. You weren’t interested in Fitz and, even if you were, what say did he have over it. That old familiar feeling crept in though, the one he recognised as the same one that the plagued him after Wheezie told him that Sarah had cheated on the boyfriend before him only to find out that she had cheated on him with John B. When he looked over you were pouting at him, “what?”

“Your room is so cold.” You replied, pulling the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your hands as if that was an indication of the frigid temperature. The old house lacked insulation in most of the rooms, Topper’s being one of them.  

He rolled his eyes, climbing back into bed with you, the momentary worry subsiding. You weren’t his girlfriend but in that moment, as he pulled the blankets around the two of you, guiding you back down to lay with him under the covers, he could have fooled even himself about the relationship. He held his arm out in front of both of you so that you could see his phone and the menu for the pizza place.  

“I’ve been really in the mood for pepperoni.” You mused, not bothering to look at the screen and opting instead to tuck your face into his bare collar. Your hand slipped down from his chest and Topper grabbed your wrist before you could make it to his briefs.  

“Pizza first,” he said, “you’re already getting sleepy.”  

“It’s cause I’m cold.” You insisted.  

He turned to place a kiss on your forehead, “pizza.” He reminded you again.  

-

Halloween weekend creeped up and, before you knew it, Phi Sig was decorated and advertising a Halloween haunted house party for everyone on campus. Geena was going home on the actual night of to trick or treat with her sister but she agreed to go to the party with you that weekend. She loved a good party and any excuse to dress up.  

When you weren’t spending time with Topper, and sometimes when you were because he had a tendency to hang out just to hang out (the friends side of the benefit), you and Geena marathoned episodes of Supernatural. And it was at  her coaxing that your Halloween costume became an homage to the show and your favorite character. A semi-loosely interpreted Dean Winchester, complete with a flannel over your black tank top and the mark of Cain crafted by Geena using her best fx makeup skills. You wore cut-off jean shorts with your hiking boots, showing off the legs that you were usually self-conscious about. Geena was Cas, sticking a little closer to the actual costume though she made a few alterations.  

“I gotta ask…” Fitz said, coming up to the two of you the moment you were in the door, as if he was the greeting committee.  

“I’m Dean Winchester.” You explained, “G’s Cas.”  

“You dressed like a guy for Halloween?” Fitz clarified. “I was hoping for something that showed a little more…” he made a motion with his hands to indicate that the little more he wanted to see were your boobs.  

“I have the obligatory sexy cat costume but that’s…” you looked passed Fitz’s shoulder, eyes landing on Topper down the hall chatting with some friends, a smile instantly lighting up your face, “that’s for his eyes only.”  

Fitz looked behind him, catching sight of his frat brother and rolling his eyes before turning back to you, “yeah well, if Thornton’s not appreciative then you know where to find me.”  

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you laughed, stepping around him. Geena had broken off already, heading for the keg that had been set up in the corner. When you started down the hall Fitz found someone else to antagonise, leaving you to vie for Topper’s attention, not that it took you much. Just walking up had him breaking his concentration to look at you, the smile automatic. “Hey,” you greeted as he hugged you, keeping his arm around your waist as he brought you into the conversation.  

“Hey, you look great.” He praised, offering you some of his beer. Topper’s costume was best described as JFK yachting in Hyannis. He looked like a preppy New England white boy and you suspected it was all clothing he already owned thrown together differently. There was always that slight air of prep to him though college and a growing collection of hoodies were slowly eating away at that.  

“Thanks, I feel a little out of place,” you joked, noting a girl down the hall that was wearing a mock up of Amanda Seyfried’s bunny costume from Mean Girls. “Though I do have a costume change saved for later.”  

“Oh yeah,” that smile was a full blown mischievous grin and you wondered for a split-second how down he would be to ditch the whole party and take you to his room. “Does it involve these clothes on my floor?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” You teased.  

You had been stressing over the purchase of a costume that could’ve been more accurately described as lingerie since it arrived at your dorm a week earlier. Did friends with benefits buy lingerie sets specifically for showing off? You weren’t sure where that one fell on the line but you were positive you were crossing into territory that was reserved for girlfriends. But even with those doubts, just the thought of Topper seeing you in something that was just for him to see you in somehow made you unable to pass up the opportunity.  

Topper groaned, pulling you closer to him so that he could press his forehead into your neck, “baby,” his voice sounded almost close to whining and you ran a hand through his hair. He nipped at your exposed collar before lifting his head again to look at you. “How long am I supposed to wait?”  

“One track mind, I’ve said it before…I’ll say it again.” You laughed, trying not to think about the way this felt so much like a relationship, pulling away from him but taking his hand, “come on, I wanna get a drink.”  

He followed you to the makeshift bar set up by the keg, refilling his beer while you ladled a generous helping of jungle juice into your cup, trying to fish as many sour patch kids as you could to add to it. You were drinking mostly to calm the nerves that were bubbling up. Geena would be gone Halloween night and the whole next day because she didn’t have classes and you were thinking of inviting Topper to stay over. Regardless of the hour or the amount of time you spent together afterward, the post-coital bliss always came to an end and one of you always left the other. Even if you got breakfast the next day there was a stretch of time that existed between the night before and the morning after where you were nothing to each other but bodies.  

“So, Geena’s going home on Halloween, I thought maybe you could come over,” you suggested. That part was a given.  

Topper looked almost confused that you were asking, “yeah, figured we’d end up hanging out anyway.” He replied.  

“Well…” you worried your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment, “I was thinking, she won’t be back til the next day…like, at night, and I thought, maybe you’d wanna stay over.”  

No. There was a voice in the back of his head, the logical one who knew that crossing the most obvious line, the one where he stayed and you woke up together, was a turning point that he wouldn’t be able to come back from. It was bad enough that he had let this become something that bordered on being a relationship to anyone looking in on it, but letting himself pretend like it was…he wasn’t sure he could come back from that when this all ended.  

“Yeah,” he said, quieting the logical side of his brain, “as long as you wear this ‘something else’ for the duration of my stay.” It might be a bad idea but who was he kidding, he was so far gone he’d accidentally referred to you as his girlfriend when he was on the phone with his mom just the day before.  

That smile returned to your face, the one that was so sly yet excitable at the same time, the perfect juxtaposition of innocence and deviousness, “Well, I was gonna wear nothing but-“  

“Nothing works for me.” Topper replied, using his free hand to hook his fingers through your front belt loop and pulling you toward him so that he could kiss you. Definitely not friends with benefits, but you’d both keep pretending until one of you cracked.  

-

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[babi-correia]

Not-So-Ex-Wife

From Anon:

15 and 52 with jay halstead x depressed/stubborn reader whos also in intelligence please? thanks 👍🏻 

Words: 2057 Warnings: Canon-typical violence Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader A/N: Hope you like it!

“What’s up your ass today, (Y/L/N)?”

Any other day, that sentence would be playful banter that you’d engage and reply at the same level. Any other day, you would be in a good mood, even in the early morning. Any other day, you would not want to murder Adam the moment those words left his lips. But today was not any other day.

“Would you mind ever so kindly minding your own fucking business, Ruzek?” You snap, sitting at your desk and logging into your computer to begin the workday.

“Have you had your coffee yet? You sound like you need a caffeine fix.” Adam continues, continuing to push your nerves. You glare at him over the screen, the murderous intent clear as day in your eyes.

“Adam, either you cut it out or the case we’ll be solving today will be your murder.” You growl, sinking back into the chair and watching the computer screen as it loads. You take a pencil from the mug on your desk and twirl it around your fingers, trying to distract yourself.

You clench your jaw when Jay walks in and it goes unnoticed by precisely no one, Adam raising his brow as the pencil in your hand cracks slightly under your grip. Voight walks out of his office, waving a folder in his hand as Jay sits down.

“Halstead, you’re late.” Voight remarks, opening the folder and sticking some pictures onto the whiteboard. “We have a hot case. Some kids were playing on the trail when they found a woman’s body. Tracy Delaya, 25, choked briefly before being stabbed.”

“I’ve seen this M.O. before, back in Homicide.” You say, pointing at the peculiar stab pattern. “All women, early twenties, and by the pattern of the stabbing, I’d say she’s a Taurus.”

“What?” Adam is the one voicing the collective confusion as you get up and take a closer look at the stab wounds on the victim. You get back to your computer, pulling up the cold case files and printing them.

“Back when I was in Homicide we caught a string of cases like this.” You say, grabbing the freshly printed paper and pinning it to the whiteboard beside Tracy’s picture. “Anna, Clara, Dora, Patricia, and now Tracy. Anna was Capricorn, Clara was Aquarius, Dora was Pisces, Patricia was Aries, Tracy is Taurus. He’s following the star signs calendar with his murders.”

“He?”

“We got some DNA evidence on Clara, she scratched him. The DNA was degraded to the point where we couldn’t get an ID, but we could determine it was male.” You grab the felt pen and begin to write under the pictures, scribbling the women’s names, ages, and star signs. “The stab wounds have the pattern of the star sign’s constellation. He’s going after a Gemini now.”

“Do you still have contact with witnesses and CIs involved in this case?” Voight asks, making you scratch the back of your neck as you think.

“It was a few years ago, but I’ll give it a shot.” You say, grabbing your badge and your gun from the top of your desk and clipping them on your pants’ waist.

“Take someone with you.” Voight calls out after you, and you don’t even stop to call the person.

“Adam, come on.” You say, strutting down the stairs. The rest of the team exchange confused looks before Adam follows you downstairs and into your car, sitting in the passenger seat and facing you with a questioning look on his face.

“It’s always Jay. Jay’s your partner. What the hell is going on, (Y/L/N)?” Adam asks as you start the car, your eyes fixated on the road.

“Well, maybe I want to change it up. Maybe I’m too mad at something to even be able to see Jay. Maybe I’m entitled to have feelings.” You say, getting a confused squeak from Adam right as his phone rings with a text message.

“See. He’s asking me why you’re mad at him.” Adam mumbles. “What happened? Why are you mad?”

“Maybe if he didn’t lie to me, I wouldn’t be mad.” You say, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel when you get to a red stoplight. “Maybe if I hadn’t believed that he was different and that we had something nice going on I wouldn’t be like this. I always get my hopes up and now I’m fucked, as per usual, and I’m fucking angry at it, and at myself for allowing me to believe something good was coming out of this.”

“Stop, freeze frame, rewind, hold on for a second.” Adam says, shaking his head as he tries to make sense of what you just said. “You had something nice going on? He lied to you? Are the two of you dating or something?”

“…It’s complicated.” You grumble, going forward as soon as the sign turns green. “We meet up after work for drinks at either his or my place, we talk for hours, it’s been really nice, you know? Like one of those cliché relationship starts from the movies. It was probably just some normal partner relationship and I read too much into it. Anyway, I got carried away into thinking it was something more, and I saw him with someone else yesterday.”

“This… This is confusing. But this is also grounds for me to win the bet.” Adam says, rubbing his hands as you raise your brow at him. “Who was he with, though?”

“Abby McSweeney.” You snap, your grip on the wheel tightening as Adam’s eyebrows reach his forehead. “His darling ex-who-isn’t-really-ex-wife.”

“Oh wow.”

“Yeah. So I’m pissed. Mostly at myself, but seeing his face definitely does not help.”

You can see Ruzek picking up his phone and typing fervently as you park the car. You shake your head and get out of the car, spotting a hooded man walking towards one of your previous witnesses.

Drawing your gun, you creep up until you see the man just a couple of steps away from your witness, something metallic glinting in his hand.

“Chicago PD!” You shout, aiming your gun and stalking forward, making the man stop in his tracks before turning around and running in the opposite direction. You turn to Adam, nodding with your head towards the witness. “Adam, stay with her!”

You take off running after the man, feeling your muscles burning as you sprint as fast as you can, turning corners and leaping obstacles.

“Goddamn it (Y/L/N), wait up!” Adam shouts, sounding out of breath. “50-21 Ida, requesting back-up, two plain clothed officers pursuing a suspect on foot.”

You cut your path through a narrow alley and will yourself to go faster, tackling the suspect to the ground. You shout when the knife in his hand connects with your arm and then knicks your face, making you wrestle the knife out of his grasp and away from him, landing a few solid punches before Adam catches up and points his gun at the man on the floor, reinforcing the idea that he had nowhere to go.

You get up and get your cuffs, arresting the man and wiping the blood off your face.

“Never mind that, Main. Suspect is in custody.” Adam says into his radio, turning to you. “You know that fighting people, both verbal and physically, isn’t the only solution available for when things don’t go your way, right?”

-

The rest of the day seems to trickle by slowly, annoying you to no end. When the clock finally reaches the clock-out time, all of you get up and gather your things to go home for the day.

“Anyone up to go to Molly’s?” Kevin asks, giving everyone puppy eyes. You shake your head, putting on your jacket.

“Not me, I’m going home.” You say, gathering your house keys and jacket. “Long day, I’m sore, I need a bath and my bed.”

“Oh c’mon (Y/N), please join us!” He begs, hugging you from behind and making you chuckle.

“I’m really not in the mood Kev, I’m sorry. Some other time, ok?” You negotiate, making him let you go.

You wave your goodbyes at everyone before making your way down the stairs, making your way to your car. You exit the precinct’s doors and see the tanned brunette standing by Jay’s car, your blood beginning to boil over once again before you shake your head and briskly walk towards your car.

You unlock the driver’s door and get in, just sitting behind the wheel for a while as you watch the rest of the team leave the precinct through your rear-view mirror. With a clenched jaw, you watch as Jay goes to her. You fire up the engine and put on your seatbelt, pulling out of the parking lot and driving back to your apartment.

You curse internally as you park your car in front of your apartment building and see Jay’s GMC pulling up on the opposite side; before, living across the street from your partner and best friend seemed like a godsend, but now it just seemed like a cruel punishment. You turn off your car and undo your seatbelt, trying to get out of the car and into the apartment building before Jay notices that you’re only just arriving as well, but no such luck.

He crosses the road in a jog, catching up to you as you’re making your way up the stairs and grabbing your arm, turning you around.

“What’s going on?” He asks, his blue eyes pleading as he tries to find the answer on your face. “We’re partners, and today you ditched me for Ruzek? You didn’t even talk to me all day. What did I do?”

“Nothing.” You say, pulling your arm out of his grasp. You hate yourself for how much you’re about to lie, but you can’t let him know the truth. “Just felt like switching it up a bit.”

You unlock the outer door, greeting your downstairs neighbor as you pass by her in the hallway. You can hear Jay hot on your tail and curse internally, hoping he just gets the message and leaves you alone.

“You’re not acting like usual, (Y/N). Please, talk to me.”

“Aren’t we all not acting like usual?” You can’t help yourself but remark, rolling your eyes at him. You can hear a little shocked huff coming from Jay as you unlock the door and take one step inside before turning around and blocking the entrance for him. “Look, Jay, I just want to relax a bit and tend to my cuts and sore muscles, ok? Just leave it.”

“I can’t leave it.” He says, planting his hand firmly on the door as you move to close it. “I want to know what I did wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong; I was the one screwing up.” You say, hating the tremble that presents itself in your voice. “I was the one dumb enough to believe you’d ever see me as anything more than a partner and a friend, I was the one dumb enough to believe anyone could love me. Truth is, I don’t deserve to be loved, and I fooled myself into thinking otherwise. I hope you and Abby are happy.”

You’re sniffling by the end of your little rant, your eyes glued on the floor as silence fills the hallway. You meekly move to close the door, feeling the tears brimming your eyes when Jay bursts inside, nearly tackling you. He holds you up and closes the door with his foot, eyes wide with disbelief.

“You think me and Abby are together?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowed. “I’m not, this is a huge misunderstanding, oh my god. I’ve been meeting her because we’re finally formalizing the divorce. I served her papers a couple weeks ago. And what bullshit it that about not deserving to be loved? You’re one of the most lovable people I know, (Y/N). Hell, I don’t even know how long I fell head over heels with you, but I did, and I fell so fucking hard, you have no idea.”

The tears fall from your face as he gently cups it, leaning his forehead against yours as you start laughing hysterically before he leans in and presses a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Want to stay and watch a movie?”

“Of course.”

[johnkrrasinski]

𝐄𝐱𝐢𝐥𝐞

Chapter 5: Now I’m in Exile

full masterlist // series masterlist // commission open // support my work

Pairings: Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 8,310 

Summary: Steve Rogers; a Hollywood A-lister and your clandestine occasional hookup. Best friends since childhood, but people change and friendships fall out. Now you were merely strangers with benefits. What happens when one day you stopped being his doormat to be a better man’s queen? The selfish Steve Rogers would not like it. How far is he willing to go to get his favorite possession back?

Warnings: smut, non-con/dub-con, dark Steve (in later chapter), angst, Steve Rogers is an asshole in this one, no redeeming qualities. (MUST BE 18+)

A/N: this series is dedicated to the lovely @belovedcherry​​​ who commissioned this story and developed the concept. thank you for being a friend when i truly needed it. i’m really glad that you trusted me to write this story for you. with all my heart, i sincerely hope you like it. this series will be updated every day.

The calling tone reverberated in your hand as the beaming grin on your face mirrored on the screen. With every passing second, your anticipation grew. You couldn’t control your fidgeting so you took a deep breath and-

“Hey, boo!” Natasha’s voice modulated.

You lifted your right hand to the front camera’s level, revealing the rose golden Cartier wrapped finger as it glimmered under the light.

“Oh my God! Did he…?”

“Mhm,” you nodded. “I’m engaged, Nat!”

Natasha put a hand over her mouth, “holy shit! Girl, I’m so happy for you! Congratulations!” the gaiety on her face was palpable, you could feel it through the screen. There’s a reason why she and Wanda were the first people you passed the happy news to. After your parents of course.

“Thank you so much! I can’t believe it. Eight months ago, I thought I’d be single forever but here I am…”

“Yeah, things escalated quickly for you! Now you are someone’s fiancee and seven months pregnant. It’s mind-boggling,” she spoke like a proud sister. “I’m beyond happy for you. Really, I am.”

“I know this is probably too soon but, will you be my maid of honour, Nat?”

“You know damn well there’d be no wedding if you didn’t ask me to. Hell yeah, I will!”

“Ah, yes!” you hurrayed in excitement. “Alright, I’ll catch up to you later, okay? I gotta call Wanda too.”

“Do whatever you want boo, it’s your day.”

You hung up the phone and went through your contacts list, then clicked the phone number under Wanda’s name. The excitement bubbled up in your chest as you pictured the smile on her face when she sees the new lustrous thing on your finger.

Eight months earlier…

“Hey, y/n. It’s me, Adrian. It was a pleasure meeting you last night. How is the dress doing?”

“She is going for a dry cleaner. It was lovely to meet you too, except for the drink-spilling stain of course.”

“Sorry about that. But it got me your number and I would’ve done it again if that’s what it costs.”

You smiled down at your phone under the warm glow of the morning sunlight. “You showed me pictures of your dogs and cat so it’s a win-win situation for us both.” Wink emoji.

“Perhaps you and I could chat more about my dogs and my cat over a cup of coffee?”

“Will you promise you won’t spill the coffee on my shirt this time?”

“You have my word.”

“I’ll consider it, then.”

“Next Friday, at 7 PM. Write that down on your calendar.”

“I didn’t even say yes.”

He sent an adorable picture of his pomeranian dog looking up at him with pleading eyes. “How can you say no to this face?”

“Say no more. I’ll see you next Friday.”

-

Two weeks after the date.

You regurgitated your guts out in the toilet bowl and held up your hair, trying not to let the vomit splotch a strand of it. This was the third time you had to run to the loo to spew the queasiness in your body. You felt dizziness clouding your head. What the hell is wrong with your body? This had been a daily occurrence for the past one week.

You sat on the toilet lid after everything you swallowed earlier was out. You recollected every food that had made its way into your digestion the past couple of days… Did you eat something inedible? Perhaps that ice cream in your refrigerator had passed its expiration date, but you only bought it three days ago at the grocery store and you swore it could still last for two more months.

Maybe that shrimp that you ate at the Chinese restaurant with Adrian last night was stale. Ugh, you’re gonna need to talk to Adrian about this but you didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. Perhaps, it was just another sickness caused by an unknown bad food.

But you also retrospected the shift in your body for the past couple of weeks. Your period was late this month… It should’ve started three days ago, what is happening? Could it be…? Oh no, there’s no way. You and Adrian hadn’t even moved it to the bedroom yet, so that means… If you are, then… It must be… Steve’s.

Oh hell no.

You recalled, the last time you and Steve met up for your weekly (sometimes more) hookup appointment was the day after you and Adrian met up for a coffee, which was your very first date with him. You didn’t know there would be plenty more to come so you went to what you had planted your soles so deep in, which was Steve Rogers’s penthouse in the upper east.

He had you on top with your arse facing him because he enjoyed the view better than your face. You struggled to bounce yourself up and down on his massive size. He could be such a sluggard sometimes but a man like him would always get his way, and if he needed to fuck out some tension, then he’d use you as a masturbation aid for as long as he wanted.

His grip on your hips was ruthless, you knew it was going to cause some bruises tomorrow but you couldn’t care any less. Not when he was pulling you down this deep that you could feel him penetrating your womb. His grunts filled your ears with eroticism and you picked up your pace to help him reach his climax. You shut your eyes with your mouth hanging open as soft moans escaped through your lips. You clenched around him and you felt his cock throbbed, you knew it was coming. Literally. Your coil shattered just a few seconds before he released his seed deep inside you. He pulled out and went to the bathroom to clean himself up and left you rumpled on the couch.

He left to Atlanta the next day to shoot a new movie. Something about an organization reinforced by the Nazi during World War II, and how the Captain leads an elite combat unit to the battle against an organization called Hydra. You didn’t know that until you looked it up on the internet.

You hadn’t received another booty call for him ever since. He was probably sleeping with twenty-something-year-olds models in Atlanta though.  

And you had made peace with the tragic reality you were stuck in. You had accepted the reality that you and Steve were like riding down a dead-end street. There was no making love on Sunday mornings and have brunch together afterwards. There was no settling down in a countryside house where your kids could run around barefoot on the front yard. There was no marriage vows and walking down the aisle in white for you.

But all that changed when you decided to take a pregnancy test and the result revealed that you were indeed pregnant. You took three more and the results were all the same. Fucking hell. What the hell are you going to do now?

You had to call Steve, right? He was the father after all. You couldn’t tell Adrian because he would despise you for sleeping with another man and possibly carrying his child and he probably would never want to talk to you anymore. He’d probably regret knowing you at all. And you didn’t want to send him away. You liked him, he was good for your heart and the more you explored him, the more mesmerized you become by his magnetic force.

You were distraught. You didn’t know what to do, you didn’t know whom to call, so you just sat there in the tenebrosity of your room, out of options and out of clue.

Eventually, you collected your nerves and you dialled Steve’s number. He didn’t answer. He told you once that he didn’t like being called unless he called you first so you never did, but this time, you had to speak to him. “Please, pick up…” you prayed while on the verge of breaking down completely.

You were directed to his voice mailbox.

“This is Steve Rogers and if I’m not picking up that probably means you shouldn’t be calling me.”

Beep. “Hey Steve, I’m really sorry for calling you this late but I really need to talk to you. Please, it’s urgent.”

Three hours later and there were still no callbacks. You had sent him twenty-eight text messages and his voice mailbox was full. If you waited one more goddamn second, you’d lose your mind. So you picked up your phone and bit the bullet and typed the words; “I’m pregnant and you are the father. Please call me back so we can talk about it.”

It was around 4.30 AM when you checked the time on your lock screen. You were fatigued; both physically and emotionally. You had to unwind from every quandary that impinged you today. It was a lot and you were at a complete loss, but you’ll figure it out tomorrow.

You didn’t sleep well that night, you kept waking up whilst it was still dark out, and you had to wake up at 7.30 tomorrow for work. You kept looking at the sleek device that was left unmuted on your bedside table in case Steve called back. He didn’t though. You only slept for an hour and you really wanted to take a day off but you’d lose your mind if you were left alone with your thoughts and no distraction. So you got out of bed, took a shower and prepared for work, with your thoughts filled with the future of this baby growing inside you and Steve. Why hasn’t he called back or even text at all? Does he really think so little of you?

The impulse to check your phone and call and text him every five minutes was adamantine. You tried to control the itch of sending him another text and voicemail but it failed until you read the words ‘not delivered’ in red under the last text message that you just sent. You tried to resend it over and over again and even tried to write a new message but it was the same result.

You moved to your call feature but after a single ring, you were diverted to voicemail. It took you a few seconds to realize that Steve had blocked you. You went to the last media to reach out to him and it was through his Instagram account. You didn’t even follow each other and you were certain that he received thousands of DMs and notifications every day from his obsessive fans. He had 39 million followers for God’s sakes, the hell is one message from you going to mean anything?

But you were despondent and you needed someone to go through this with, especially the father himself. You did it anyway without thinking twice and told him that you were pregnant and you needed to talk to him. You even sent a picture of those three pregnancy tests and attached it on your message. You couldn’t stop biting your lip and tapping your foot throughout the entire way to your work in the train. Man, were you really going to raise this child alone?

-

Three days later and still no signs of him attempting to return your messages. You had slowly accepted your fate that you were going to carry and raise this child alone. You still hadn’t told Adrian despite talking to him every day and it crushed your heart whenever you heard his elated tone. You could tell that he was really into you and he wanted to take this relationship further but sorrowfully, one way or another, you were going to have to tell him the secret growing in your belly and you were going to have to slaughter this exquisite potential. You wondered if the circumstances were different or you had met at another time or in another universe, would Adrian be the one you were meant to be with?

You made a promise to yourself that you were going to meet him tomorrow and tell him the truth. Delaying it wouldn’t make it any easier and it wouldn’t prevent the doom from happening. If anything, it would only elongate the hurt. So you picked up your phone after you cerebrated it on your mind and clicked on Adrian’s chat room; “meet me at the Drive Brew Cafe tomorrow? Got something I’d like to talk about.”

“Is it something really urgent or you’re just looking for an excuse to see me?” Wink emoji.

“Oh, stop flattering yourself. We really need to talk.”

“Usually, I’d ask a person the matter before I’d decide that it’s important enough for me to meet them in person but I’m giving you a pass.”

“Very generous of you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, y/n.”

-

You arrived ten minutes earlier than the time you both agreed to meet at. The cafe wasn’t too crowded, thank God, so you immediately ordered a cup of Machiatto for Adrian and a cup of hot chocolate to calm your nerves. After the barista called your name, you walked to the corner booth before anyone could occupy it first. You were going to need some privacy. You sat as your hands trembled from edginess. You couldn’t stop fidgeting and tapping your foot as the second passed by on the clock.

Exactly on 6.30 PM, a dashing brunet in a dark grey vest and rolled-up sleeves entered and you stood up to greet him. He just came home from work and man, it was impossible for him to ever look bad even for once, you were so lucky but life just kept finding a way to eliminate the people you cared about.

“Hey, you look good.” his British accent was thick. He kissed your cheek and embraced you with a warm smile.

“So do you. How was work?” You both sat on the opposite chairs of the booth.

“The ordinary. We had a meeting with a director of this historical film to get us to fund the project. How was yours?” The genuinely curious look on his face nearly changed your mind. Oh, how you wish you could hold on to this moment where you could still have him a little longer.

“Nothing new, just another day at work. This one’s for you by the way.” You didn’t know what more to say when your mind was cluttered so you stalled by passing over his drink.

“So, what’s so important that you needed to see me?”

“Adrian, you know, I really like you, right?” you took his hand in yours as you stared into his striking eyes. “And I’ll always be grateful that you were foolish enough to ruin my dress that night.”

He was perplexed. His eyebrows were furrowed. “As much as I enjoy your companion, I’m sure that you didn’t call me to meet you only to thank me for wrecking your dress, right?”

“Yeah, but um… I just, it’s been wonderful knowing you. And… Oh God, this is going a lot harder than I thought.”

He nodded. A dejected look on his face that you wished you could wipe out. “Let me save you the trouble… You are breaking up with me.” He didn’t say it as if he was guessing, he said it as if it was a declaration that he’d figured out before you could even formulate the words.

“Adrian… I’m pregnant. And you’re not the father, so don’t worry. I know when you first asked me out, this isn’t what you signed up for. So I’m setting you free. I’m sorry.”

You expected him to get up and walk out of the door, leaving you with your alienation but none of that was detected on his expression or his body language. “Who is the father?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“Adrian…”

“Don’t I at least deserve to know who my girlfriend is sleeping with before I even took her to my bed?”

Girlfriend. Huh. Well, that’s first.

“Steve Rogers.”

“Steve Rogers the actor?”

“Yes…”

He snickered. That drew a mystification out of you. “What’s so funny?”

“So you’re into the arsehole type.”

“…How do you know what kind of person he is?”

“The movie that we had a meeting about today? He’s going to star in it and I’ve met him a couple of times at some parties. Not the nicest guy, eh?”

“I don’t… I don’t know what to say.”

He sipped a bit of his coffee. “How did you get involved with a bloke like him?”

So you told him everything; the beginning of your friendship, the fallout, the moment he took your V-card in your dorm, and how years later, he still had you on a chokehold. He didn’t seem to mind one bit that the woman that he had been seeing had a history with someone. He’d dealt with much worse scenarios in his former dating lives. He wasn’t going to let other man’s neglected baby stand in the way of what could be something beautiful.

“I’m not walking away.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m staying. I like you and I know you feel the same way too. We are going to raise this baby together. No child deserves to grow up fatherless. I’m going to be its father.”  

“Adrian, but…”

“No buts, we’ll get through this together. Now, let’s enjoy these tasty drinks before they get cold, yeah?”

So you nodded, too dumbstruck by the man before you. You drank your hot chocolate that was cooling down and let his presence soothe you better than the sweet drink on your tongue.

-

Steve went back to New York after spending nearly four months in Atlanta, shooting his movie. Man, he’d lost count on how many extras he had fucked in his hotel room but nothing felt as good as your pussy. He thought about your last text before he blocked you. You had claimed that you were pregnant with his baby. You must’ve lost your mind to think that he’d buy that shit.

So he picked up his phone, unblocked your number and pressed the call button. Three dial tones and a familiar voice answered. “Hello?”

“Hey baby, meet me at my place tonight.”

“Who is this?”

“Hillarious, y/n. I’m too fucking tired for jokes okay? Come here and suck my cock then maybe I’ll listen to your jokes.”

“Is this Steve Rogers?”

“Fuck yeah, it’s me, y/n. Who else do you think I am?”

A pause jammed the line. “I’m done, Steve.”

“What? The fuck do you mean you’re done?”

“I sent you thousands of texts and calls five months ago and you couldn’t even lift your fingers to answer.”

“I was in the middle of shooting, y/n. You know better than to call me while I’m working.”

“Oh, screw you, Steve. I’m pregnant and you didn’t even care? How much of an asshole can you be?”

“You were actually serious about that?”

“Of course you think I was joking. But don’t worry, it’s none of your concern now. We’re done. Don’t call me anymore.”

“Wait, wait! Y/N!” you cut off the line. “Ah shit.”

He tried to call five more times and you neglected every single one of them. In fact, you instantly blocked his number after the last phone call with him. You didn’t want to be associated with him anymore. You thought that Steve had forgotten about you since he blocked your number first so you never had to do it yourself. But of course, an entitled scoundrel such as he is would never stop taking and taking until you had nothing more to give.

It took you years of anguish, an unforeseen mishap and a beautiful stranger that ended up being the stupendous love you’d been looking for to open your eyes to the rotten core of Steve Roger’s heart. He ever only lusted for your flesh, he never gave a shit about you as a person.

You lived for the hope of it all, you cancelled plans just in case he’d call, and you never once suspected the pitfall, but you were no longer that foolish girl anymore. You had met a real man now and he led you to the path of love and happiness and Steve was no longer the most intrinsic thing on your mind.

-

Steve was going apeshit. He had never been rejected or denied before, he always had it so effortlessly. Especially by you. He thought he’d always have you by the palm of his hand, he thought whenever he asked you to jump, you’d always say “how high?”, he thought whenever you’d think about walking near to the door, you’d always turn around with a few sensual touches and sugarcoated words, but the renunciation that came out of your mouth sting like a bitch and he didn’t like his ego being trampled over.

He went to sleep later that night, dreaming about caressing you and kissing you as a lover would. Never once did he ever have such a dream about anyone before. Maybe he belonged to you more than he had realized all this time.

-

It was his fourth time this week of standing on the street of your apartment building after you returned his plenteous gifts that you certainly never even asked for or needed. Why would you? You could easily buy that necklace jewellery, that overpriced velvet dress, and those designer shoes with your own money. And even if you couldn't, your boyfriend could easily afford all those things for you too. But that motherfucker used his money to buy you shoddy gifts such as poorly designed accessories and tacky books and yet you happily accepted them? What a closefisted fool.

But who are we kidding? The sole reason why you didn’t accept those gifts is that you no longer cared about him. Those inducements didn’t work on you anymore. You were much happier with a better man now. What do you have to lose?

Rather than dwelling in self-pity and resentment, he hid in Range Rover in a black baseball cap and Tom Ford shades from the paparazzi and waited. Waited for her to come out. He had been religiously stalking every social media you had from another private account to track your activities. The last photo you posted on your Instagram was a picture of you and the scary college roommate of yours that he’d forgotten the name of. It was last Saturday.

“Always a delight to catch up with this one. Love you @natasharomanoff.”

under 281 likes and 32 comments. He scrolled through every single one of them and searched for any clue that might indicate your next move. Found one.

Wandamaximoff: “Don’t forget about me!! :(” so they are still friends apparently.

Natasharomanoff: “Same time next week? 💕”

“Absolutely,” you replied to the red-head.

Gotcha. He’ll be there.

So here he was, waiting for you to come out of that building to grab an Uber because he knew you weren’t so into driving. Except for that late-night rendevous of course, because he told you once that he’d hate for a single soul to know there was something going on between you and him. You were a secret and he’d like to keep it that way. Sooner or later, people are gonna talk and headlines are going to break the internet.

Two minutes later, you stepped out wearing a beige coloured cable knit cardigan and a grey jersey maxi dress underneath with a necklace around your neck. He couldn’t see it from this distance but the item had made a few appearances in some of your recent Instagram posts, and he already knew that you wore it wherever you go. It was an initial necklace of the letter ‘A’ in silver.

He hated the arising thought but he couldn’t help but think how ethereal you looked in your casual, maternal clothes. Perhaps even more than when you wore those petite dresses that always made you look uncomfortable whenever you wore them. You walked with grace and there’s this elegance that you just exuded without trying too hard. You could be wearing the most boring clothes or doing the most mundane things like looking down at your phone to text your Uber driver and you’d still look enchanting.

Man, how could he had been so blind all this time?

It shredded his heart even worse knowing that the growing fetus in your belly was his, but when that baby borns, another man would hold it instead of him and the kid would grow to learn that another man was its father instead of him. That motherfucker. He didn’t have any right in raising that baby. You were bearing his child. Not Adrian’s. You belonged to him. You always did. Fate had interlaced your paths long before you were given birth to this world. No one knew you better than him and vice versa. Not even that former roommate of yours or Wanda. Only him. He had to have you back. Whatever it takes.

He was so inflamed with debt and feebleness of his childhood that he turned into someone he used to loathe when he was younger. He strayed so far away from the path that his mom had paved for him to walk in and he wasted the one good thing in his life that kept him going when he had nothing. But he couldn’t turn back now, couldn’t cross out the mistakes that he did. The best he could do is make use of what he is capable of now and utilize it cleverly.

A scheme was formed in his head… He’d have you back in no time. One way or another.

-

Months went by and his patience emaciated. He had it all drawn out in his head but he had to be very careful. If he rushed or stepped on the wrong stone, he’d end up being decapitated and his career would burn to ashes. Especially with how the paparazzi and the media were always busting up his ass, like hunters with foxes. He couldn’t have that. He had worked too hard to see it all crumble beneath his feet.

He rejected all film projects and public appearances offered by his agent slash good friend, Sam Wilson. Sam was getting a little frustrated by Steve for being unreasonable. He was his most ambitious client, never one to say no to a good script and occasions that could advance his career and generate more profit for both of them.

But after he returned from Atlanta for his last movie, he had been shutting most people out. Sam was always his most trusted confidant, he was his agent, after all, it was his responsibility to make sure the client that earned him the most income was well in health and aptitude. But he was scratching his head trying to get Steve to open up to him.

Sick of Steve’s shortcoming, he called Steve and told him to come to the office.

“Fuck off, Sam. Why can’t you just talk on the phone?”

“Get your ass down here or I will come to your house myself.”

He groaned and hauled himself to Sam’s office, not in the mood for Sam’s garrulous nagging.

-

Steve knocked on Sam’s door and he saw Sam sitting in his usual black and white attire in his ergonomic chair. He had a frown on his face instead of his usual conceited womanizer charm. “What’s with the long face?” Sam asked.

“Nothing. I’m just worn out.”

“Cut the bullshit. Last time you got your ass to work was six months ago. What the hell is happening with you?”

“I just haven’t found any good script that interests me, Sam. And I told you, I needed a short break. I’ve been travelling nonstop for the past few years to shoot films and press tours, and now I just need to hit the pause button.”

“The Steve Rogers I know isn’t one to rest. He was power-hungry and always craved for more. You also rejected an Oscar potential role. Something’s going on and it’s deeper than just needing a break. C’mon, talk to me man. As a friend, not as your agent. Let me help you.”

It took him a few seconds to brace himself. He didn’t need to tell him the entire truth, he just had to ask Sam fora favour and then the Steve Rogers that made him millions would come back. “You know anyone who’s good at editing photos?”

“…What?” Sam was perplexed.

“Just let me know, Sam. You got any connections to editing experts? Hook me up.”

“What is fueling this?” Sam was bewildered. He looked at Steve like he had just grown two heads out of nowhere.

“Just trust me on this one, alright? You link me to a good editor and business will back as usual.”

“I know a guy.”

-

Your bachelorette party was fun. You, Natasha, Wanda and a few of your fellow colleagues were invited to the tea party at the garden of The Berkeley in London, which is the hometown of your fiance. You loved London and you always had such a good time whenever you paid it a visit with Adrian.

Now that the weekend was over, it was time to pick up little Nathan from your parents’ house. A beautiful baby boy was born three months ago and he was your parents’ joy. You never told them that the real father was the scrawny kid who used to lounge around on their couch every Wednesday afternoon when there was nothing much to do. Your parents loved Adrian as their own and it was all that mattered.

This baby is going to grow up with so much love from his parents and grandparents. From your chosen family who will become his aunties and uncles. He is going to be raised right in gentleness, affection, and sincerity. And it would never matter how he was conceived into this world in the first place.

You refused to leave this baby for more than five minutes but Wanda and Nat kept insisting that you needed some time for your own. One bachelorette party wouldn’t hurt. It’s only one weekend. Besides, your grandparents were obsessed with baby Nathan and they were going to take such good care of him while you were away, celebrating your single life with your girlfriends before you spend the rest of it with someone.

Now you were back home, you couldn’t wait to see your baby. You had been thinking about him endlessly in London and you missed holding him close to your chest. So you put on your coat and took your keys to drive to your parents’ house but you were stopped by a text message before you could open the door of your car.

“Enjoyed your bachelorette party?” An unknown number wrote.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Who the hell is this?” your thumb typed and pressed the send button.

“You know me. Better than anyone, just like I know you too better than your fiance.”

Your heartbeat quickened. “Stop texting or I will call the police.”

But before you could hit the send button, a picture of your face popped on the screen. But what disarrayed your mind wasn’t your face, it was the body. You were stark naked with your knees on a mattress and your ears teared up, and your lips were wrapped around a shaft.

What. The. Fuck?

“Got plenty more.” the unknown number threatened.

Another picture of you lying on the same bed, except this time you were on your back so your tits were clear cut visible and your mouth was parted slightly like you were moaning. A hand was wrapped around your throat and yours were pinned above your head by another one.

You were frozen in place and the warm autumn air descended into zero degree celsius. Your breath hitched and tears started brimming in your eyes. Who could have these pictures of you?

“I’ve got many more if you’re curious just how much of a slut you can be.”

“Stop. What do you want?” your fingers trembled.

“Meet me at the New York State Pavillon tonight, at 11 PM. Alone. Bring your baby. If you dare to report this to the cops, I will send these pictures to your fiance and post them on every existing site on the internet.”

The words didn’t leave any room for argument or further questions. So you drove to your parents’ house to pick up Nathan for the last time ever.

-

Adrian was working late tonight. He told you over the phone that a big project was in the work and so he and his team had to stay a little longer in the office to get it done as soon as possible. You were a bit relieved because that means, you could save yourself from whatever was bound to happen when you arrive at the abandoned historical world fair.

“Don’t forget to drink water. I love you.” You reminded him.

You wrapped Nathan in a blanket to keep him warm and you placed him in the infant car seat next to you. Your mind couldn’t stop flashing back to those pictures. Who could you possibly have done so wrong that they thought exaction would be the most fitting comeuppance. It took about 35 minutes via Grand Central Parkway which was the fastest route so you took it. Your mind also couldn’t stop asking questions, so many questions… But most importantly, who could this person be? Could it be… No, no way. You knew him. That was the last thing he’d ever do. Not because he wasn’t a nefarious person but because the world was constantly throwing themselves at him, offering him dollars and women.

He had too much in his plate to look over to yours and wanted to steal what was in it too. After months of not a single contact made, he must’ve had forgotten about you right? C’mon. This is ridiculous. But if it’s not him, then who could it be?

You arrived at Flushing Meadows a half-hour later and then you texted the number. “I’m here. What do you want?” you kept Nathan inside, fearing that whoever the culprit is might hurt him. So you stayed inside as consternation overcame you.

A few minutes later he answered, “step out the car and bring the baby.”

“Don't hurt my baby, please. Take me, but let him return safely to his father.”

“He will. Now, do as I say or I will publish these pictures.”

You trembled. You unlocked the door of your car and stepped out of it deliberately holding Nathan to your chest. You were careful to keep him from crying. The crisp air sent shivers down your spine. You closed the door and waited. Your eyes roved to all over the desolated site. Until it landed on those familiar blue eyes that held more ice than the air.

“…Steve?”

The man you used to know was different now. His face that used to be clean-shaven was now covered in a glorious beard that made him indistinguishable. His dusty blonde hair was slightly longer and he dressed in dark clothes that amplified the sinister atmosphere circling him.

You held Nathan closer to you with one hand behind his head, trying to keep him quiet. “Don’t be like that, let me see my son.”

“No. He’s not yours.” You spat.

He scoffed. “Say whatever you want, sweetheart but it’s my blood running in his little veins. In fact, I think we can take a DNA test and send it to your fiance, how about that? Also, how is Mr and Mrs. Y/L/N?”

“Leave my parents alone, Steve.”

“Are you going to cut that attitude of yours or do we have to do this the hard way? Either way, I don’t mind.”

“I’ll be good. Just please, don’t involve my parents.”

“Good, I know the good girl I knew is still somewhere inside you. Now, drop your phone to the ground and smash it.”

“…What? No! How am  I going to-”

He furrowed one eyebrow at you and you instantly understood the peril if you repudiated him once more.

You took out your phone from the pocket of your coat and dropped it to the ground. You stomped it with your foot until the screen was cracked, but Steve wasn’t satisfied enough with its damaged state so he stomped it harder than you did until it was smashed into two.

He led you to his Range Rover that he parked in an empty street and opened the backseat door and you slide into it with Nathan still tucked under your neck. Then he closed the door and walked to the driver’s seat and drove away to God knows where.

“Where are we going, Steve? Nathan needs to sleep. He can’t-”

“Quiet. He’ll be home soon.”

You didn’t dare to ask more questions. The vacancy in his eyes that were reflected on the rearview mirror was petrifying enough as it is. You sat and stared out the window and think about Adrian. Was he home yet? Did he try to call or text you? What would he do when he realizes you weren’t home? You couldn’t help but think that this morning was possibly the last time you’d ever see Adrian. God, you missed him already. You prayed to whatever God was listening that he would save you and your son soon.

Please Adrian, please do something. I love you.

The soft hum of the engine made your eyes feel droopy. You tried your best to stay awake but it was nearing midnight and the jet lag was still encompassing you so the fight in you to stay awake resolved. You gave in to the lethargy with Nathan dozing on your lap.

You were woken up by a shake on your shoulder and you found Steve standing on the open door. “Get up, we’re here.”

In your still languorous state, you got out of the car hugging Nathan close. “Where are?”

The sounds of crickets saturated the ambience as only the faint glow of the moon illuminated the trees around you. There was nobody around except you and Steve -and Nathan if a three months creature counts-. You put two and two together… Did Steve take you into the woods?

“Steve, what are we doing here?”

He didn’t meet your eye or answered you but instead, he walked toward what looked like a mid-century modern wooded oasis perched on a sloping site and set on stilts. The trees blended with the wood side exterior and wraparound decks. You had no idea whose house this belonged to but it was enchanting.

“Go ahead.”

You approached the resident that was incandescent with yellow lights, giving you a little peek to the furniture inside. You hoped whoever owned this property wasn’t sleeping yet, it was literally in the middle of the night, what the hell was Steve even doing taking you to a stranger’s house?

“Steve, I really don’t think this is a good idea…” as you stood freezing on the terrace. “Can we go back now? I really don’t want Adrian to worry.”

He fumbled with a key and unlocked the entrance. “Get in.”

Your eyes scanned the room to make sure there was no one around that might bust your ass tot he police for breaching before you stepped in. Your eyes peregrinated to every corner of the interior, relishing in the smell of oak and firewood.

He then took you for a quick tour to every section of the house without saying anything that would actually straighten your befuddlement. The decorations were full of vintage and antiques. “You like it?” Steve asked.

“I mean… it’s lovely for sure.”

“Good, then that means we won’t have to redecorate.”

“Wait, wait… What?”

“I bought this house for us, sweetheart. I knew you’d love the cozy design and it’s a perfect place for Nathan to grow up in.”

“Steve, what the hell are you talking about?”

“We’ll work things out. I’ll stay here with you for the rest of the weekend and I’ll only leave when I need to work. You won’t have to worry about anything else, I’ll take care of it.”

“God, you are crazier than I thought. I’m going home.”

He stopped you by blocking the entrance door and glared. “You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

“Steve, get out of my way.”

“You are mine. That baby is my son, you hear me? This is where you belong.”

“I’m gonna call the cops.”

“With what? Your phone?” He derided. “You don’t even know where the hell we are.”

“Adrian’s gonna come looking for me.”

“No, he won’t. Because I’ve sent those pictures of you to him and to your boss, who is it? Tony Stark? And you don’t have any life to get back to. This is your life now.”

Your heart sunk. No, no, he can’t be. He promised he won’t if you did what he said, right?

“You’re lying…”

“I did. I sent it while you were snoozing in the car. Shit, I’d pay a million bucks to see the look on that asshole’s face when he realized just how much of a dirty slut his fiancee is… Well, ex-fiancee now.”

“Why would you- you promised you wouldn’t if I did what you asked me to.”

“Well, that agreement has changed,” he said it so nonchalantly as if he hadn’t just pulverized the life you had built for yourself, the happiness you had stacked on a shelf that took you years to collect; a great job, a loving boyfriend, an adorable baby.

You wanted to lash out, you wanted to smack him in the face but you were too wounded by what you just heard. If you returned to Adrian and your work tomorrow, would you still even have them? Would they even accept you at all? You knew better than trying to report a powerful man such as Steve Rogers to the cops, he could bribe them, he could get a qualified lawyer. He could also make you lose the battle you never wanted to be a part of even if you were the victim, he could easily paint you as the mentally unstable woman that wanted to blackmail him for money.

The media had never captured pictures of you sneaking out of Steve’s apartment. Steve never took you for a stroll in the park or Sunday brunch because that’s all you were; a secret. Steve never wanted to be seen with you and Steve never wanted to share you with the world for whatever reason. Steve didn’t mind being photographed by models and other film stars, but not you. And now, he wanted to keep you in this little vault or calaboose so that you’d never escape and the traces of your history would be erased forever from the world’s memory.

Because Steve Rogers was no longer the man you used to ride around the bicycle with during the summer or the scrawny romancer you used to know, but he was a selfish man, a man with enough ego and ego to completely metamorphosed himself into whatever he wanted to be, no matter how ruthless and perilous that person he is. And now here you were, a mere object for him to assert his powers on, and you knew it wasn’t because of his love for his son or for you, but simply because he always got his way. Always.

“Now you can stay here, accept your new life with me and raise Nathan together, or you can face the disgrace that your fiance and your boss see you as. You think he’s gonna let you come back to his house? You think your boss is gonna shrug it off and let you come back as if nothing happened? No. You’re dispensable, and one way or another, you’re gonna come back to me. Even if you don’t, I’ll find a way to make you.”

“Why me? You could have every other woman in the world… Why me, Steve?”

“Because you think that you can repudiate me… You can’t. You think you can take away control from me… You can’t,” he gritted. “Not a single person in the world can.”

The tears in your eyes fell the floor as your legs wobbled. “Now, let’s not keep our son awake any longer yeah? Put him to bed. And then… You can be the good housewife you were meant to be and perform your duties.”

So he led you to the nursery room and you put Nathan in the crib. You wanted to fight, you wanted to reach that door and run… Even if you don’t know where you were going, as long as you could escape from this maniac. But you knew better than running away to in the middle of nowhere at midnight, in the cold with your son. You also knew better than thinking that Steve wouldn’t do whatever he could to get you back under his feet… so what was the point in countering anymore? Men like Steve Rogers always wins.

After you put Nathan to sleep, he led you to the master bedroom and ordered you to strip. The routine revokes old memory. “Get on your knees,” he commanded as he sat on the edge of the bed, like a king waiting to be served.

You did as he says and stood between his spread legs. “Take off my pants.”

You unzipped it and pulled it down along with his briefs. “Good girl, now, open.”

You parted your lips, wide enough to fit him and circled your tongue around the tip. Just like you used to because he liked the buildup and you knew it better than anyone. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and tugged on it harshly then inched himself back deeper into your mouth. You hollowed your cheeks to accommodate his girth as he hit the back of your throat each time he went back in.

“Ah fuck, I’ve missed that sweet mouth of yours…” He picked up the pace and you looked up to him. His face contorted in pleasure while you were feeling anything but. You feel repulsed, you wanted to push him away but you couldn’t. He closed his eyes, relishing in the feel of your mouth around him and threw his head back.

He moaned as he controlled your movement faster, trying to get himself off. Your eyes teared up as you looked up at him, and his cock throbbed. He climaxed deep inside your mouth as he kept your head down so every drop that he had was spilled down your throat. He kept you there until he had no more to offer and then he pulled himself out. “Get on the bed, ass up, face down.”

You followed his command and waited until you could feel him kneeling behind you. “Just like old times, huh?” He chuckled. You could feel the tip of his cock nudging your clit and then he invaded your body through your entrance. “Shit, you’re still so fucking tight. Did that asshole ever fuck you at all?”

You didn’t answer but moaned instead as you could feel him stretching you like he used to. And no matter how many times he had fucked you, you never truly got used to it. Adrian’s face came in flashes; you recalled how he made love to you, how gentle he would be with you and how intimate your lovemaking session was, a stark contrast to how Steve would treat you. You also compared their sizes, Adrian was average compared to Steve. Whenever Steve entered you, it always felt like an intrusion, an unforeseen attack, rather than your fleshes weaving into one.

He retracted himself and then pushed back in brutally and you whined. He held onto your hips in a bruising grip, as he pounded into you because he was never one for a tender start; he only had wanted to get himself off and that was it. “Does he fuck you this good? Bet you think of my dick when he fucks you.”

Your body jolted every time he jerked himself forward and he groaned and grunted. He hammered into you relentlessly and incessantly, causing you to clench around him. The wetness made squelching noises as you could feel your impending orgasm approaching, forming a dam inside you that was ready to break any second now. He sped up and he screamed in pleasure as the coil inside you broke, you reached your peak at the same time and he buried himself deep inside you, spilling every drop that he had deep in your womb.

“Bet that British asshole doesn’t even make you cum, huh? And I know you always fake it to get him off you.” He sneered as he detached himself from you and got off the bed to clean himself off to the bathroom.

You laid there in the same position, feeling voidness creeping up your heart like you once were; unwanted and alone. Steve had stripped you of your pride, dignity and honour once and even after you managed to climb out of that pit, he found a way to drag you back down once more and locked you under.

And there was nothing else that you could do except accepting your fate as his perpetual prisoner, living under the corruption and unforgiving authority of Steve Rogers. You could only hope that once Nathan is grown enough, you could somehow sneak him out of this confinement to live a much better life and eschew himself from turning into the monster that his father is.

[plush-rabbit]

Can I Ask You Something?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

You were online a week later.

It was a boring day, with a slow start and by night, you were starting to feel restless, your feet bouncing and an empty bag of chips rests on your nightstand. You were itching for something to do, anything to distract but no show or game could hold your attention. You throw your head back and gnaw at your bottom lip.

Your fingers tap against the keyboard, and with a glance at the time, you pull up the calendar for the group time slots and with a fairly positive outlook that that you wouldn’t run into the other team members, you booted up the game, and started a simple mission but even then your attention couldn’t be held. The game had already lost its spark for you.

You admit that you reacted childishly in response to being yelled at. You were always sensitive, you cried too much and took everything personally even if you tried not to but for some reason it just hit different when he had yelled at you.

You were so angry with him at the time. But when you awoke the next day, you were angry with yourself. You made that dumb post and now you had to hold off for a month to show that his words didn’t hurt you- you had a point to prove, you didn’t want to seem as someone who reacted so childishly.

You thought you would miss the game but having not played for a period of time, you were starting to enjoy your time. You slept a bit earlier, your back wasn’t sore from hunching over and you had started to pick up old hobbies that you dropped when you got sucked into this game. Picking it back up, the game no longer felt the same. You remember you could get lost in this game for hours, you liked the customization options, the weapons, and the soundtrack was pretty good, but for now as you wandered around a forest, looking for a crystal that wouldn’t be of any real use to you seeing as you had already decided to quit the game for good, you were grateful for the distraction.

But as the clock ticked on, you had already grown bored, feeling your joints become sore and a headache forming. You were about to exit out of the game and pray that none of the members would see that you were active but then a ‘ding’ startled you awake. You peeked at the corner of the screen, a familiar icon popping up. You frowned, your shoulders slumped and you debated with yourself on whether you should open the message or not but your curiosity won over.

<Tomaraki>

>Are you quitting the game or not?

“Blunt as always,” you thought to yourself, your fingers already typing at the keyboard.

<User_Name>

>Yeah:P

His reply came a second later.

<Tomaraki>

>Why?

You wanted to type, “Why do you care?” You really did. You had the words on screen, the cursor blinking back at you, but you couldn’t force yourself to press the ‘Enter’ key. The corner of your mouth twitched and you backspaced, the message disappearing and replaced by another.

<User_Name>

>I don’t know. I’m kinda sick of it, you know? The user base is p toxic and I know that can be said for most games but I don’t know┐(´～｀)┌

>Plus after taking a break and coming back to it,,, the game doesn’t feel the same anymore

>I’m kind of bored of it

<Tomaraki>

>That’s stupid

You let of a scoff, rolling your eyes at his answer.

<User_Name>

>I have been known to be pretty dumb

>I’m sure you’ve called me stupid before too lol

You watch as the three dots bubble up and down the screen, signifying his reply is being typed out and having no other form of entertainment, you take in a deep breath and with butterflies flapping around in your stomach, you type out more before he can reply to your original message.

>Will you be fine without me?

>You won’t miss your bestest pal uwu

On the other side of the screen, Shigaraki narrows his eyes. His eyes shine dangerously, and he’s positive if you knew who were talking to, you’d be shaking and begging for you life. Or perhaps you’d be dead. He’s not sure.

<Tomaraki>

>I have better ‘friends’ than you

“Ouch.” You cringe inwardly. “Strike one.”

<User_Name>

>Wow, rude much??

>Well if I’m quitting, do you want my stuff? I’ve racked up a decent amount of gold and other stuff:P

“I sound like I’m dying and writing my will, stop being weird about it. You never even meet the dude,” you mumble to yourself, grateful that the voice chat function was off. “Oh my god. He could be like super old or something”

<Tomaraki>

>Does it look like I take handouts?

“Is that a strike two?” You chewed on the idea of your cheek. “If I have to ask, it probably was.”

<User_Name>

Can I ask you something?

<Tomaraki>

You just did

<User_Name>

:////

You were about to type out your question, the four words staring back at you unblinking. It would be weird, right? Of course it would be. And even if you did ask him that, the odds of him accepting would be slim. Plus, if he did reject, that would be strike three and you really didn’t want to strike out so much.

<Tomaraki>

>Well?

<User_Name>

>Um,,,

>How old are you?

You threw your head into your hands and let out an agonized moan. Maybe you should just delete your account now. You don’t even know the guy’s name and he doesn’t know yours. So you could just delete your account and that would be it. You’d never have to speak to him ever again.

<Tomaraki>

>You’re weird

You start laughing.

<User_Name>

>Says the guy who would tell other players to be careful who they’re talking to

>Who are you? Light Yagami?

<Tomaraki>

>That’s a shit reference

<User_Name>

>You got it tho

>(ʃƪ¬‿¬)

<Tomaraki>

>Why do you want to know?

“You have nothing to lose really,” you try to convince yourself as a way to just get to talk to him more.

<User_Name>

>I don’t know

>After a while, I always thought of you as a friend

>The other members sorta liked me, but I think it was more of them putting up with me

>But I thought we were beginning to form a friendship so I don’t know

>I guess a dumb part of me thought we could’ve been friends outside of the game:P

Shigaraki stares at the screen in disbelief. You must not have much or any friends at all if you thought he was being friendly. He’s positive that he would kill you if he knew you in real life. Probably right away if he met you on the street or maybe he’d take you as a hostage. He’s sure that he’d kill you but now he’s not sure when.

<Tomaraki>

>You really are dumb

<User_Name>

>I can’t tell if you mean it or not

>Knowing you, you probably do

>Can I say good-bye to you? Like facecam wise?

He’d kill you on sight.

<User_Name>

>You don’t have to turn your camera on!! I guess, as my last like dumb wish, I wanna say bye?

>Pleaseee（/｡＼)

>I’ll promise to log out afterwards

Shigaraki stares at your messages, trying to gauge at what you’re trying to get at. Do you really want to just say bye? Who the hell gets so emotional in a fucking game? But he would be lying is he said he wasn’t at least a bit curious to see what you look like. Maybe if he’s lucky you’ll be attractive and he could probably jerk at the thought of you before he goes to bed.

<Tomaraki>

>I’m not showing my face

You smile at his answer. It’s the best that you were hoping for and you start to brush your hair out of your face, checking the mirror on your nightstand to see if you look presentable.

<User_Name>

>Fine by me

>It’ll be quick, promise:)

And soon he’s staring at the pop-up screen asking if he’d like to request a video call from you. He’s tempted to click no. He cranes his head behind him and once he’s certain that the door is closed, he accepts your call.

You pop up on screen. You’re cute, that’s as much as he’s willing to admit. You adjusting yourself, putting a strand of hair behind your ear before you realize that the call has been accepted. You look startled, and a shade of pink fills in your cheeks. You giggle nervously, waving a hand at the screen.

“Ahaha, hi!” You giggle nervously and he’s pretty sure you’re already regretting this decision. “So like I promised to keep this short and all, so I will.” You looked determined; you stand a bit straighter and take in a deep breath. You remind him of an anime character, someone with exaggerated movements and he’s positive that you’ve confessed your feelings to someone before in that same action.

“Now, now,” his voice freezes you in place, he reminds me you of snake, slithering towards their unassuming prey and you’re pretty sure that’s what he’s trying to convey, “what’s the rush? I thought we were “bestest friends”.” His voice is sickly sweet, taunting you with words that you’ve spoken. His words make you nervous, your hands clenching together and your stomach forming knots.

And suddenly it’s clicked in your mind that he wants to make you feel uncomfortable. He’s probably getting off at the thought of it. And while he is succeeding at that, you don’t want to lose whatever game he’s playing.

“Ha! You admitted it.” You swallow the lump in your throat and flex your fingers. “Okay bestie,” the way you say the word is like you’re trying to bait him into something, and even you’re not sure what you’re leading him into, “I gotta ask. Are you an old man? You sound kind of creepy. Not like a pervy creepy but like you’re gonna kidnap me and murder me in your basement kind of creepy.”

He laughs and you decide that you want to hear more of it- even if it does sound eerie.

“Do me a favor? If you do end up kidnapping me, can you at least bring me a smoothie from BlueBird’s?” You test out your luck, hoping that he’ll play along so you’re not the only talking and maybe it’ll disrupt whatever ruse he was planning.

“What flavor?” He sneered, playing at this sick roleplay that you made up.

You smiled brightly, as if you had gotten one over him, and surprisingly, he didn’t hate your smile. He’s seen all sorts of smiles directed towards him- crazed, trying to get into his good graces, smiles that held murderous intent but yours just looked happy, happy that you were talking to him. Illuminated by a yellow glow, his sneer looks more twisted, his upper lip curling in a twisted way and crimson eyes narrowed with revulsion.

“Mango, please and thank you.” You nodded your head, your smile wasn’t gentle as it was before, it was now playful, as if you wanted to continue this whole kidnapping scenario. He wanted to see how long this conversation would go before you said goodbye. For good. “Anyways, I said I’d make this quick and I will. I—”

“I’m not an old man.”

You laughed at his answer, covering your smile with your hand, and you looked up at him, your eyes brimming with mischief and excitement.

“Okay. And I’m not some elderly person either.”

“Yeah dumbass, I can see that.”

You crossed your arms and you continued to smile at him. “I get that we’re besties and all, but do you really have to keep insulting me?” You pouted your lips, before they broke out into a toothy smile, it was a bit forced but it was only to show that you were joking around with him.

“Is there any other type of friendship?” He genuinely sounded a bit curious.

“Mm, maybe?” You tilted you head to the side and he had a fleeting thought that you reminded him of a cat. “I mean, when I’m with my friends, we joke a lot but we don’t really insult each other too often.” You frowned a bit, your eyebrows furrowed before returning to the screen, giving out a half smile and shrugging your shoulders. “Thin skin, I guess.” A pause was in the air, too uncomfortable for your liking. “Are your friendships like that? Insulting, I mean.”

He hesitated for a second before replying, his voice drenched in fake nonchalance, “That’s a dumb question.”

You took that as a clue to not dwell on the subject any longer. You nodded to yourself forgetting that you were screen, only to hear him chortle on the other side.

“Are you agreeing that it’s a dumb question?”

You stretched your mouth into a nervous smile, heat lighting your cheeks as you racked your brain for a solid excuse on why you nodded to yourself. “Um, yeah?” You didn’t sound confident in the slightest but Shigaraki was curious on how you would save your own skin this time even if this conversation was rather dull. “Like, I guess it would make sense that you said that.” You brought your hands up, and shrugged them, your fingers curling inwards. “It was you who like really enforced the rule about not talking about your personal life so it makes sense that you wouldn’t want to talk about your IRL friend groups.” You leaned further back, your pillows providing comfort against the hard wood that was your bed frame.

No noise came from him other than that of fabric being moved around and scratching at the microphone. “Did you really just say ‘IRL’ instead of ‘in real life’?” He sounded smug about it, as if he had proof that you were a total dweeb. “I never took you for one of those people.” He said ‘those people’ as if it left a sour taste in his mouth.

You let out a nervous laugh, before it grew into a snicker with your eyes shut. “First of all, ‘IRL” is faster to say compared to ‘in real life’ so jot that down. Second of all,” you tilted your chin upwards, giving you a false sense of superiority, “you’re the only always going on about “eat shit and die” and “suck my dick”,” your voice dropped an octave, a poor imitation of the man who hide behind a black screen. “So if I’m one of those people, then you’re like the poster boy of a gamer gatekeeper.”

“It’s not my fault other players are shit.” He breathed out.

“Oh yeah, the other players are shit; it totally isn’t you acting better than everyone.” You rolled your eyes, shaking your head, your tone teasing.

“I’m glad you agree,” he replied, letting out huffs of air through his nose.

It grew silent once more, and this time you weren’t uncomfortable with it, it had actually felt nice. Comfortable, even. Well at least as comfortable as it could get when you couldn’t see the other game but he could see you and all your mannerisms. You clasped your hands together, intertwining them, your attention focused on the black that took up nearly all of your screen, save for your own square that held you on the left hand corner.

“I think,” you started out, the words heavy on your lips, “I think I’m ready to say goodbye.” Once you started, you couldn’t stop. A part of you wished he would interrupt and maybe ask for your email or phone number so you could continue to keep in contact, but you knew that wouldn’t happen. Whatever this was, this odd one-sided friendship, stayed and died here. “It was fun talking to you. Even if you were a dick.” You gave the man a smile, you hoped that it was seen as happy, teasing one. “I liked this one-sided friendship. Even if it hadn’t lasted for long.” You bite down on your lips, your teeth dragging against your dry, bottom lip and you reached over to your nightstand, grabbing your chapstick, rubbing the tube with your fingers before clenching it in one hand. “It was nice knowing you Tomaraki. Take care, okay?”

You didn’t wait for his reply- you knew that you wouldn’t get one. You scrolled your mouse of to the telephone outline, and as you were about to click it, his voice rasped out, telling you to wait. Startled you pulled back, the mouse jerked downwards, moving past the outline and you stared at him, eyes wide and head cocked to the side, waiting for him to speak further.

He hadn’t known why he shouted for you to wait. He didn’t even want to talk to you in the first place, it was your promise that you would leave him alone that even convinced him to accept your request but here he was, barking at you to wait as you stared at him with owlish eyes and a closed mouth as you gave him the floor to speak. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know why he sounded so frantic at the thought of you leaving and then quitting the game, any form of communication getting erased within minutes.

“I,” he started out, grateful that the screen was black on his end, his hands coming up to pick at his neck, “What’s that?” He was going to kick himself later, he was sure of it.

You tilted your head, your eyes narrowing before landing on the tube in your hand. “This?” You held the tube upright, a confused smile gracing your features. “It’s chapstick. It’s uh-” you turned the tube over, looking for the label where it stated its flavor- “It’s vanilla honey flavored.” You opened the tube and rubbed the chapstick on your lips, smacking them together. “Why? You looking for recommendations?”

He decided to go for a truth, knowing that it wouldn’t give anything away. “I have dry lips.”

“Oh.” You pursed your lips, and you scratched at the area where your jawline meets your neck. “I’m not knowledgeable about the different types of chapsticks, I usually like to get the ones that have a nice flavor. I had this peppermint one but I lost it. Are you drinking enough water? That should help too. You could also try lip scrubs. You don’t have to buy them, you could always make them at home but you’d need brown sugar for a rougher feel.” You rambled on, moving your hands around, and his eyes stayed trained at your moving hands, your voice growing distant. He could only hum in response as you continued to talk and mention stores that sold lip scrubs.

“Uh, Toma? You there?” You asked, your hands clenching and bringing them closer to your chest.

He raised his eyebrows at the sound of a nickname. “Toma?”

“Hah, uh yeah. Tomaraki is too long, I mean unless you want me to call you something else?” You seemed invested with continuing the conversation and he could understand why. You always craved attention- always undermined your skills, all so someone could praise you. But why did he want to continue this conversation? Was it simply because he had someone talk to him about mundane things, things that didn’t carry so much weight? Was it because you treated him as if he were a person first, rather than a villain?

“No. No I don’t mind.” His voice came out softer than he expecting, than you were expecting given that your eyes widen, your mouth pulled into an ‘o’ shape before you smiled gently at him, your lips turning slightly upwards.

“Okay.” You held your breath for a second. “Do you wanna call me by my name?” Your voice was soft, matching his tone from earlier.

He wanted to snap at you, asking why he would even want to but he couldn’t bring himself to. He didn’t know how to answer you without snapping. But you took pity on him, his silence deafening and you told him your name, you voice sweet and heating him up from within, the heat pooling in his stomach before travelling upwards into his chest, a momentary blast of warmth before it faded away. He tested your name on his tongue, the word heavy and foreign on his tongue. He repeated your name, the odd feeling being replaced by familiarity.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” You smiled, your tone playful but still soft, as you sank deeper into your mattress, your legs aching in protest from being in a still position for so long.

He didn’t have a comeback. He remained silent, repeating your name in his head, the tone of your voice when you asked him if he had wanted to know and when you spoke it, invading all of his thoughts.

“You know,” you started out, stifling a yawn behind a hand, “if you had wanted to continue this conversation you could’ve just said so. I don’t mind talking to you.”

“You’re tired.” He opted to avoid confirming or denying your accusation.

“It’s late, of course I’m tired.” He suddenly took notice of the way your eyes were starting to droop, how your eyes would widen, forcing them to stay open.

“You should go to bed.” His voice was stiff, he didn’t want to continue this conversation but he saw you frown, your lips downturned, noticing the difference in tone but you quickly smiled, any features of disappointment being erased.

“But this conversation was just getting good,” You whined, another yawn coming out, tears pricking your eyes. “Hey, I got a dumb idea,” you said.

“All your ideas are dumb,” he muttered underneath his breath, missing the fall of your face that disappeared before he could turn back.

“You want my number?” You ran a hand through your hair, swallowing deeply, your mouth suddenly dry and the chapstick on your lips too heavy. “If you want, of course. You don’t have to exchange yours. But you aren’t obligated to reply to me either. Obviously.”

He hesitated to answer; both to see you squirm in your seat but also because he was unsure. Did he want to continue this friendship that would only end sour, that wouldn’t progress further than what it already was. He reasoned to himself that if the friendship was going to stay stagnated, what was the harm of saying yes? What was the harm of talking to you a bit longer?

He nodded his head, only to realize that you couldn’t see him. The only reason you weren’t reporting him to the police, calling and screaming for heroes was because you couldn’t see him. A hand reached over to grab Father, his other hand tugging at the skin on his neck, feeling the cold air of the room sting at the raw flesh. Your reaction to his answer gave him an odd sense of pride on how you had swelled up, giving him a wide grin, the smile reaching your eyes and you sat up straighter, asking him if he was ready and you began to tell him your phone number, repeating it to make sure he had gotten it down correctly, the grin on your lips never leaving.

Ten minutes later, your account was deleted, all assets transferred over to Toma. Your eyes burned with sleep, the blankets on top of you suddenly weighed a ton, and right before you gave in to sleep, butterflies slowly started to form in your stomach.

In a dark room, only lit up by the screen of his phone, Shigaraki stays up, his eyes burning with the need for sleep as he just stares blankly at the your number. He wonders to himself why he had even agreed to accept your number, but he couldn’t go back in time and reject your offer- the most he could do was not message you. He closed his eyes, his mind drifting back and forth between ignoring you tomorrow or attempt to have a conversation with you.

Tagged:

@rogueofbullshit

[mahinhinnnn-blog]

On Being Nineteen

by: Mahinhin

            It was a sunny day, first of March. As my eyes open its door, I was greeted by the swirling trees of lansones in the upper right portion of my window. The sky above is too blue, a crystal clear blue, if it is a mirror I might see my zombie apocalypse version. Maya birds are chirping, giving me the morning melody, and in a glance on the hanging plant on the upper left portion of my window I saw the maya bird's nest on the edge of our roof, and I thought maybe I can check it later, eggs might be waiting, it is a very good subject for pictures and essay writing. Not in a moment after I saw the bloom of gummamela in our backyard, I felt my stomach's butterfly flying or maybe t'was my stomach's worm wriggling but it's no important thing at all for I heard my mom's voice, shouting my ever beloved nickname to wake up for it's already twelve noon— I must say my mom is an over individual in this planet, exaggerating things or event is her habit. And why am I typing this non-fiction creative writing? Ah!  The title says "On Being Nineteen", I am reminiscing the first day of March for it was the day I started writing pieces for my upcoming birthday. Since twenty-twenty one appeared in the calendar I am  fancing of how can I turn my nineteen years of existence a productive one. And holloa! I am so engrossed of signs that I even make it as a lucky charm. 

          As I turned nineteen on the nineteenth day of March, never ever in my wildest dream that I perceived a cake in front of me without me paying for that cake. Maybe I am am imaginative individual but my imaginations were always on my room of imagination-- writing, so yeah, you read it right I always imagine but look, the cake from Carlo's Bakeshop whom I always find yummy was right there in front of me on my birthday. The cake, the coke, the ice cream, the carbonara, and of course the gin was in the table. I will always be grateful for the persons behind the simple-surprise for me.

         In addition to this, as a Roman Catholic I completed the novena for the Feast of the Saint whose name was revised a little for me. Imagine how I need to pull my sanity at five a.m. so just I can come on the church right on time-- it was a vain for me, I am not used of waking as early as that, even though classes are normal. And yet, as what the first sentence of this paragraph says, I completed it. My day is Friday, under the lent season, when I thought that I should be fasting and not eating meats I was surprised by the sudden announcement that it's a Feast day so the day survived. I was glad though it's so gloomy that very morning. Well, it was also declared by the Vatican that it's my Saint's Holy Year, I am honored.

         On being nineteen, this girl typing this essay did something incredible for herself, writing a nineteen pieces, waking at five a.m. for ten consecutive days, and being thankful. She never thought nineteen–– her last year of teen age years though under the on-going Pandemic  made her grow up so fast, by mind. 

"𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘗𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘤 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩. 𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘪𝘵 𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 ��𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮."

crdts to the photo i used from Pinterest.

[shittystockholmstyles]

Una Sorpresa || Oscar Diaz

Summary: Steph learns some shocking information about Oscar.

Warnings: Angst, Language, Smut

Word Count: 3,292

A/N: this took a lot longer to write than I thought it would but it’s done. Hope you like it! Check out parts 1, 2, and 3 if you haven’t yet!

It had been 2 months since that night Oscar had showed up at Steph’s house, needing her help. Since that night the two of them had grown closer, gone out on a few dates, and stayed in, which is how Steph had learned Oscar was a pretty great cook. They spent many nights staying up late to talk about their interests and goals and Steph began to see a side of Oscar that she suspected he didn’t show many people. It was nights like that when Steph almost forgot that Oscar was known by most people as Spooky, the scary leader of the Santos, forgot that he had done time in prison.

Steph thought back to the night they spent at the beach. Oscar had asked her if she was scared of him. After some time she slowly answered no. He had asked her why not and she’d explained saying that even though she knew what he was capable of doing, had done in the past, and knew he had a short temper she couldn’t imagine him hurting her so there was no reason to be afraid of him. Oscar had pulled her in and pressed a kiss to her lips. Things had quickly heated up as Oscar pulled her onto his lap, his hands sliding under her swim coverup to grab her ass...

“Aye what’s got your face so red, chica?” Leti’s voice cut through Steph’s thoughts and she looked down feeling her cheeks heat up.

“Nada, chica” Steph responded “did you find the detergent? I’m ready to get out of here” the two girls had stopped by the store to pick up a few groceries.

“Si, and I picked this up for you” Leti said as she threw a pink box in the basket Steph was holding.

Steph glanced down and read the words First Response on the box. Her eyebrows drew together as she looked up Leti “a pregnancy test? Why would I need that?”

Leti laughed and started to walk away “para nada, que era una broma, a joke. But it wouldn’t hurt to keep one handy just in case. Since you are you know fucking Spooky”

“Aye callete Leti, the whole store doesn’t need to know my business” Steph said, her head spinning as she tried to remember the last time she had her period. It couldn’t have been too long ago. She shrugged, she’d check her calendar at home, and finished paying for the groceries.

The girls made it back to Steph’s house to find Maria hanging out on the porch.

“Took you guys long enough. It’s too hot to be sitting out here” she said fanning herself.

“Stop complaining and move out of the way so I can open the door” Steph replied as she pulled her keys out of her bag.

The three of them hurried into the heavily air conditioned house. Steph put away her groceries as Maria and Leti gossiped while making lunch. The girls spent most of the afternoon just talking. It had been a while since they had just hung out; she had been spending so much time with Oscar.

After her friends had left Steph decided to text Oscar and see if he wanted to come over. Hey, you busy? No response. She shrugged and went to clean up her kitchen. Steph knew by now that if he didn’t respond right away he was dealing with important shit. She grabbed a bag full of toiletries and walked to the bathroom. As she began putting the contents of the bag away she came across the pregnancy test and stood staring at it frozen. A cold fear came over her as again she was reminded that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had her period. Steph shook her head, it couldn’t be possible. But it wouldn’t hurt to be sure; she unboxed the test and sat down on the toilet.

After the difficult task of peeing on the stick Steph waited for what felt like forever for her timer to go off. The loud beeping of her alarm startled her and she reached a shaky hand toward the test. Steph took a deep calming breath, there was no way the test would be possible. Steph brought the test toward her and looked down at the double lines visible on the screen. She stared, unable to comprehend the result. She grabbed the box the test had come in and reread the instructions, there in bold print it stated that double lines meant pregnant, but that couldn’t be right. She grabbed another test stick out of the box and tried again, she waited the excruciatingly long 3 minutes for the result to show up and again it showed double lines.

“I’m pregnant?” She said out loud, her tone questioning.

Steph sat on the floor of her bathroom staring at the wall until she lost the feeling in her legs. Her head spinning trying to figure out what to do next. Taking a deep breath she stood up and looked at herself in the mirror; her eyes were slightly puffy, her nose pink, and tears stained her cheeks. She splashed cold water on her face and made up her mind, she’d go talk to Oscar, they would figure things out together. Looking at her phone, there was still no response from Oscar, she typed out a quick message I’m heading over, hope you’re home. With that she slipped on her shoes and headed out the door.

As Steph got closer to Oscar’s house she could hear rap music blaring down the street. Soon she was standing across the street, several Santos sat around the front yard drinking. Her eyes scanned their faces, looking for Oscar, he wasn’t in the front but he had to be around somewhere because his cherry red Impala was parked in the driveway. She did see one familiar face sitting on the couch, Marco.

“Hey Steph!” He said, standing to give her a hug as soon as she reached him “ain’t seen you here in a minute”

She gave him a small smile “yeah it’s been a while. Have you seen Os- Spooky around?” She asked using his nickname

Marco shrugged “uh yeah I think he’s in the back.”

“Thanks” Steph turned to head towards the back. She felt Marco start walking next to her.

“I’ll head back with you, I need a refill” he said holding an empty beer bottle up

Once in the backyard Steph looked around searching the crowd for Oscar. She found him sitting in the same spot he had been the night they first met only this time a blonde woman in a short red dress sat on his lap. Steph stopped walking, shocked at the scene in front of her. Oscar had a hand wrapped around her waist as she leaned back against his chest.

“Hey Spooky someone’s looking for you” Marco called from beside Steph.

Suddenly all eyes were on her, but all she could do was stare at Oscar as his gaze met hers from across the yard. His eyes widened in shock and the hand he had on the girl’s waist fell to his side. Steph backed away, turning to walk back the way she’d come. She felt her eyes begin to burn but she refused to cry in front of the Santos. She heard Oscar’s voice call out her name from behind her but that only caused her to pick up her pace as she crossed the street. Steph had made it down the block and was close to her house by the time Oscar caught up to her, grabbing her wrist to force her to face him.

“Let me go Oscar” she said glaring at him

“It’s not like it looked Mamas” he said loosening his grip but not letting go

“Oh? It’s not?” She laughed “I know what I saw Oscar” she yanked her hand away and continued walking towards her home.

Oscar followed behind “would you just let me explain”

“Explain? You mean come up with an excuse? A lie? Tell me I didn’t see what a thought I saw?” Steph asked, rolling her eyes “no, no soy una idiota” she was so close to her home only 2 more houses away.

“Look you weren’t even supposed to be there so just let me fucking explain”

His words caused her to stop, she turned around to face home, eyes blazing with anger “so you can cheat on me because I wasn’t invited to your party? It’s my fault this is happening?” She asked as she placed her hands on his chest and shoved him “you’re a fucking piece of shit”

Anger flashed across Oscar’s face when Steph pushed him. He grabbed her wrists pinning her to him. His chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace as he tried to control his breathing.

“Look I’m not denying what you saw but you’re gonna fucking listen to what I have to say” he said

Steph glared at him as she struggled to free her wrists from his grasp. She could feel her eyes blurring with tears and she wouldn’t let him see her cry.

“I’ll let you go once you agree to let me talk” Oscar said, staring down at her.

Steph bit her lip, considering the offer, she’d never get out of his grasp if he didn’t want to let her go. She nodded her head, moving her gaze to the ground.

Oscar let out a sign and released her wrists “let’s go inside and talk”

Steph lead the way up to her front door and walked inside. She turned to face Oscar.

“Listen Mamas” he started

“Don’t, don’t call me that” she said breaking eye contact as she felt her vision begin to blur again.

Oscar let out a sigh and began pacing the floor, his hands clenched at his sides.

“You said you wanted to talk so talk” Steph said, “tell me all about how it’s not that serious; you fucking other girls while I sit at home waiting for you to text me back”

At that Oscar moved to stand in front of her. He brought a hand up to Steph’s face but dropped it back down to his side as she moved back a step.

“Fuck Steph, I’m not fucking anyone else. She was just sitting on my lap”

Steph rolled her eyes “the point is that she shouldn’t have been sitting on your lap in the first place pendejo, how do you think that makes me look?”

Oscar ran a hand over his face “look I only let her sit on my lap to get the guys to shut up”

“What do you mean? That doesn’t even make sense”

“Joker and Oso kept talking shit about how I don’t pay attention to any of the hynas hanging around so when Ana came passing out beers I pulled her into my lap to shut them up.”

Steph scoffed, crossing her arms “because that’s easier than just saying you have a girlfriend? Or is it that you don’t consider me your girlfriend?” Her voice cracked at the end. “God I am an idiot, this whole time I thought you were serious about me, about us. But this was never about more than sex was it?” The tears had began to fall down her cheeks and she wiped at them angrily, not wanting to cry in front of Oscar.

Oscar’s face softened and he pulled Steph against his chest, wrapping his arms around her. Steph struggled at first, pushing against his chest, but she gave up realizing it was pointless; Oscar was a lot stronger than her.

“Mamas, I am serious about us” his voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, “ you have no idea how important you are to me”

“Because you never tell me” Steph interrupted

“You know talking about feelings isn’t my thing” he replied “but I do care about you, about us”

“Then why all the secrecy? Why not invite me to your party? You were the one that said I was always welcome at your place Oscar” Steph tilted her head back to look at his face, he was already staring at her and his jaw clenched slightly at her questions.

“I know what I said but that was before, before I got to know you and started feeling the way I do about you and I don’t want you around all the gang shit that goes down around my place”

“I’ve grown up in Freeridge, I’ve lived around gang shit all my life. It’s nothing new to me Oscar” Steph said

Oscar’s lips tightened into a thin line “I know that Mamas but I don’t want that to be your life anymore and I like having you just to myself”

“You mean you like keeping this a secret, I won’t be kept a secret Oscar, that’s bullshit and you know it” Steph said “if you don’t want people to know about us then there won’t be an us for people to find out about”

Oscar’s body tensed at her words “don’t say that baby. I need you in my life.”

Steph looked at Oscar and noticed tears welling in his eyes. The thought of him crying tugged at her heart. She brought her arms up, linking her hands behind his neck, “then make it official. Let people know I’m yours, that I’m your ruca, Oscar”

Oscar nodded his head and brought his face down to hers “okay” he whispered against her lips before kissing her, tightening his arms around her. He stepped backwards until his legs hit the couch and sat down, pulling Steph onto his lap.

Steph let out a small squeal as she was pulled down but didn’t break their kiss. Oscar’s hand came up to caress the back of her neck, deepening the kiss. She gasped as his other hand came down to unbutton her shorts, his fingers making contact with her exposed stomach.

She began to move her hips grinding against Oscar. He let out a groan against her lips then moved his mouth kissing gently along her jawline and down her neck. Suddenly he turned, moving to lay Steph down on the couch. He gripped the the edge of her top and pulled it over her head then did the same to his shirt. His lips continued to trail kisses from her neck down to her breast, still partially covered by her bra. He gently sucked on the exposed skin as his hand reached under her to undo the clasp of her bra. Steph slid the straps down her arm and watched as Oscar threw her bra on the floor with their shirts.

Oscar leaned down, pressing their bare chests together as his lips met Steph’s. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip and her lips parted in response allowing him to explore her mouth with his tongue. Oscar’s hand moved down to grab her thigh as she moved to hook it around his waist, drawing him in closer.

“Let me show you how much you mean to me baby” Oscar said breaking the kiss and moving down to take her right nipple into his mouth. She gasped at the contact and he smirked bringing his hand up to play with her left nipple. Steph arched her back, pressing into his touch and began to rock her hips against him. She could feel Oscar’s growing excitement against her thigh.

Oscar kissed his way down her stomach until he got to the waistband of her shorts. He hooked his fingers into the waistband and pulled her shorts down her legs, bringing her underwear down with them. She laid there completely naked feeling a blush creep over her skin under his heated gaze. Oscar bit his bottom lip as he stared down at her, letting his fingertips lazily run up her thighs. He gently pushed her thighs apart exposing her wetness. His fingers teased her inner thighs, bringing them close to her center and then back down.

“Oscar please” Steph moaned, her eyes meeting his. Her cheeks were flushed and her body shivered under his touch. Oscar leaned back down, placing a kiss on on each hip before moving down farther and kissing her inner thigh. He left a trail off kisses on one thigh then moved to repeat his actions on her other thigh before moving to her pussy.

Oscar brought his hand up and ran a finger against her folds “you’re already so wet Mami and I’ve barely touched you” his eyes darkened, “tell me how much you want to feel me touch you”

Steph moaned at his words “Please Oscar touch me” her words coming out in soft moans “I need you papi”

With that Oscar brought his face down and placed a kiss on her clit. He began to flick his tongue across her clit in slow motions. Steph let out a gasp as she felt him push a finger inside her, slowly pumping in and out as his tongue continued moving in slow circles. Oscar’s pace quickened as he heard her breathing hitch, moving his tongue and finger in sync. Steph felt her stomach tighten with pressure and rocked her hips against Oscar’s face, her thighs tightening around his head. He continued his movements until he heard Steph screaming a stream of curse words.

He quickly stood removing his shorts and was back between her legs, his cock pressed against her entrance. “You’re mine Mamas. All mine” he said as he pressed into her.

“Fuck papi” Steph moaned as he entered her, moving in long slow strokes. Digging her nails into his back she smiled and kissed him. “All yours” she whispered against his lips. Oscar groaned and picked up his pace. Steph hooked her legs around his waist drawing him in closer to her as he rocked back and forth. “Fuck right there papi, just like that” she said between moans.

Steph felt her stomach tighten again as she grew closer to her second orgasm and rocked her hips up to meet Oscar’s. Her nails dug deeper into his back as her release came. Her legs shook and she tightened around him as he continued his strokes until the feel of her around him was too much for him to hold on. He let go, his climax coming over him as he came inside her.

Breathing hard, Oscar pushed himself up looking down at Steph. He leaned down and kissed her “mine”

“I was serious, you need to let me come around and people need to know you have a girlfriend” Steph said. They had moved to her room and laid together, Steph’s head on Oscar’s chest, their bare legs tangled together.

Oscar’s hand stilled where it had been rubbing circles on her hip. “I know Mamas. I told you I would and I meant that”

“And no more secret parties, from now on I want to be the one sitting on your lap” she lifted her head to look at him.

Oscar smiled “whatever you want”

Steph laid her head back on his chest and the two of them were silent for a while.

“Oscar?” Steph said feeling nervous

“Hmm” he responded quietly

“There’s something else we should talk about”

“Hmm”

Steph was quiet trying to think of how to say the words she knew she had to say. Taking a deep breath she blurted out “I’m pregnant”

She waited for a response, a shocked gasp, Oscar sitting up, but nothing came. She looked up at his face to find his eyes closed, a calm expression on his face. He’d fallen asleep. Steph sighed, laying her head back down “I guess I’ll try again tomorrow”