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jisungsmochi · 5 years

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the bubble tea girl - ljn

bubble tea shop worker! reader + new employee! jeno hehe

just a shit ton of fluff tbh i am so soft for jeno

word count: 3.5k

a/n: this is the second instalment of my nct dream job au hehe, please enjoy and as usual, i apologise for any mistakes :)) p.s look how cute he is

you were standing outside the bubble tea store you worked at called, Tea-riffic. totally cheesy, but very popular. you were hanging up a ‘now hiring’ sign at the front window of the store. your manager was seeking new employees as many of your previous co workers had outgrown the small franchise and moved onto bigger job opportunities, you couldn’t really blame them. you had worked there for a little less than a year, and quite enjoyed your job.

after securing the sign, you headed back into the store to continue working. shortly after you had served a few customers, you noticed a boy with round glasses, wearing a black hoodie and some sweatpants, stop to read the sign outside. he made eye contact with you through the window, causing you to lose your train of thought and forget which order you needed to start. you saw him chuckle to himself at your actions but chose to disregard it and continue with your order.

part of you hoped that he would come back and apply, but that was just you being delusional.

the next day you came into work was three days later. you greeted your fellow coworkers before heading to the back to start on orders.

‘hey y/n, we got fresh meat’ your coworker, yeji joked. it was a term you used for all new employees, meaning someone had just applied and gotten a trial shift.

‘ahh yes, someone to torment’ you giggle before following her to a different area in the back, waiting to be introduced to the new trainee.

‘hey guys this is jeno, he’s here for a trial shift, i entrust that you will take care of him and help him if he asks’ your manager stated as you looked over at the boy. it was the same boy from days before but only this time, he wasn’t wearing glasses. you gave him a shy smile in which he returned.

‘y/n, since you’ve been here the longest out of everyone, could you just help him out today?’ your manager ordered as you nodded in response, ‘sure thing’

jeno looked stunned when he heard that you would be training him. he quickly followed you out to the registers.

‘i’ll formally introduce myself, i’m y/n’ you smile as you put your hand out for him to shake. he looked at you with his eye smile and returned your gesture,

‘ah hi i’m jeno’

‘great, now that we got that out of the way...working here isn’t as easy as you may think. everyone has a spillage count, i’m up to ten drinks in my entire time here.’ jeno chuckled softly at your words, making you pause for a bit before leading him to the register.

‘for now i’ll just show you how to take orders and later today we can switch over to the actual drinks, sound good?’ you gave him a friendly look, which made his nerves about this job, die down.

‘yeah that’s fine with me’ he responded as you began explaining the functions of the register as well as what questions to ask for the orders. to your surprise, jeno got the hang of it really quickly. it also helped that he was on the better looking side, as many girls would often stare at him for extended periods of time before collecting their order. you just shook your head in amusement before tapping his shoulder.

‘yes, y/n? how did i do?’ he asked, concerned about his progress.

‘trust me, you’re doing well! now this is the hard part, i’ll give you three chances if you mess up an order, it’s stated in the rules otherwise you can’t get hired. but i’m here to help!’ you assure him as he nervously bit his lip. he didn’t respond to you, which made you kind of upset to see him like this. you placed your hand on his shoulder before reassuring,

‘don’t overthink it, otherwise you’ll be prone to messing up! i’m here with you’ he looked over to you and just smiled and nodded,

‘thank you’ he muttered as you pulled him towards the drink station and started on your first order.

he often got confused along the way but eventually he started picking up the pace, with only having messed up one order, which he made up by apologising sweetly to the girl who just accepted the wrong drink anyway due to his innocent charm.

‘dang jeno, you have to stop charming these ladies otherwise we’ll have to make you work here every single day!’ you decided to joke, pushing his shoulder against yours.

‘my badddd’ he softly whined before your manager approached the both of you.

‘jeno, you’ve done really well today. your communication skills and work ethic has impressed me, you can start working here, i’ll email your roster to you soon’ they smiled as jeno gave you a high five, before thanking your manager.

‘thanks for helping me today, y/n! i should treat you to something, want some tea?’ jeno offered, eyes bright.

‘jeno, i work at a bubble tea shop, i’ve had enough of tea for one day, let’s go get burgers, and we can get to know eachother since well we’ll be working together alot’ you offered in return, which made his entire face light up.

‘t-that sounds amazing, when should we go?’ he asked, pushing his hair back with his hand as he leans against the counter.

‘how about right now? i mean we are both off our shifts’ you keep smiling as jeno suddenly becomes more shy, he just nods and follows you out of the shop.

the rest of the night was spent with you and jeno talking about the most random things from the mandela effect to the tv show, teen wolf.

‘i’m telling i sobbed when allison died’ jeno explained to you as you were both seated across from eachother.

‘i felt that one, and aww you cried? that’s not very manly of you’ you sarcastically joked. he flashed you another eye smile which frankly just made you melt on the spot.

‘it’s getting late, i should head home. would you like me to walk you back to the shop?’ jeno offered, waiting for you to finish the last bite of the burger.

‘if you don’t mind! i don’t like walking alone when it’s dark’ you shyly admitted watching as he just nodded. you both walked side by side, continuing your conversation on which was the ultimate ship in teen wolf.

‘stydia!! come on! you can’t even deny it’ jeno became rambling making you want to argue back, playfully.

‘excuse me! theo and liam!’ you joked as he just rolled his eyes,

‘they weren’t even a couple’ he shook his head in amusement.

‘yeah yeah’ you muttered, softly judging him. it surprised you how easy it was to get along with him. he felt the same. jeno didn’t want this day to end.

‘i’ll see you tomorrow for your first official shift! glad you joined us, jeno!’ you smiled brightly as you both stopped outside the shop.

‘i’m glad i have you guiding me! get home safely! see you tomorrow!’ jeno waved before crossing the street to catch the next bus.

you made sure he got on the correct one before heading towards your car and driving home.

a few weeks into the job and things were sailing smoothly as usual. yeji’s spill count went up to twelve, making her the contender for the clumsiest employee you’ve had. jeno on the other hand, has had a whopping zero spills, which had you shocked.

‘you’re way too good at this! you probably worked at another store or something, was it the place a few blocks down?’ you playfully grilled him as you both were on your break.

‘let’s face it, i’m good at everything’ he just smirked before continuing to type on his phone.

you and jeno had somewhat gotten close, he didn’t attend your school, so you only crossed paths during work, but it was enough that you would both chatter the day away.

‘can one of you guys head out to the registers now? i’m off’ yeji greets as she hangs up her apron and grabs her bag, before waving to you both and leaving the store.

‘lets just both go’ jeno shrugs, shutting off his phone as you both made your way to the front. you decided you were gonna wipe down some tables whilst jeno serves customers. you were finished your final table when you saw jeno speaking to a girl who by the looks of her face, was becoming annoyed with him.

you slowly crept behind the counter, pretending you were organising the cups while eavesdropping on their conversation.

‘you can’t show up to my workplace’ jeno groans, trying to keep his calm. the girl crossed her arms before huffing in annoyance,

‘we have to talk soon! you can’t keep avoiding me’ she whines back, making you wonder what exactly they had to talk about.

‘what’s there left to say? we aren’t together anymore. you said no hard feelings, so stop following me around’ jeno seems to have fully lost it, unaware that his voice is becoming louder.

‘you can’t stop me, we have to discuss it all eventually’ the girl mutters under her breath in defeat before storming out of the store. jeno rubbed his temples, visibly shaken by the whole confrontation. you debated on whether or not you should comfort him. you looked over at him, he was hunched over behind the register.

‘you alright?’ you softly ask, unsure of his reaction.

‘yeah just fine, uh do you mind covering for me? i’m not feeling well at the moment’ jeno pleads, giving you the most vulnerable look you had ever seen from him. you nodded, ‘no problem, anything for a friend. feel better soon’ you smile softly before watching as he pat your shoulder and rushed out of the store.

whoever that girl was, clearly means or meant a lot to him.

you didn’t see him for a couple of days, mainly because he had called in sick for some of his shifts which made you worry. it wasn’t like you two were super duper close, but you thought he was close enough to atleast give you some explanation as to what went down a few days prior. you shook the thoughts of jeno out of your head, ready to serve the next customer.

‘hello! what would you like today?’ you smiled widely, before your expression almost instantly changed. it was the same girl from before, staring back at you.

‘is jeno working today?’ she got straight to the point, leaving you stunned.

‘oh um no he isn’t working today, i’m sorry’ you reply in the kindest way you could.

‘could you tell him i stopped by? my name is euntae’ she groaned to herself before leaving the store.

she had a lot of nerve to speak to you with disrespect, you were immediately alarmed by her presence, thus leading you to tell jeno all that happened when he had his next shift.

‘god she came again?’ jeno pulled at his hair, visibly frustrated with the presence of euntae.

‘who is she anyway? like your girlfriend or something?’ part of you was wishing he would say no.

‘used to be, not anymore. things ended badly and she’s just been following me at school and now work’ jeno sighed, sitting in the break room. you sat next to him and placed a hand to his shoulder.

‘do you want to talk about it?’ you calmly asked.

‘not really, it’s just, she hurt me bad. and i thought that keeping myself occupied would get my mind off the breakup but look what happened’ he placed his head in his hands. you felt so bad for him, you wished you could just embrace him.

‘well, how about we do something? like go to the park and ride bikes? anything to help you get your mind off her. and if you need, i’ll just give a heads up when she’s coming and you can duck under the counters’ you explained as he chuckled at that last part. his laugh made you feel warm inside.

‘you’d really do that for me? you’re amazing’ he muttered, not helping your nerves one bit. you blushed at his words and nodded,

‘as i said, anything for a friend’ you smiled at him in which he returned. why did that hurt you to say?

as you both expected, later that day, eunjae walked into the store, eyes out for jeno. you quickly signalled to him to duck in which he immediately caught on to.

‘sorry jeno’s not here’ you instantly stated, startling her.

‘did you tell him i came by?’ she crossed her arms, clearly annoyed.

‘he hasn’t been at work, sorry’ you shrug before walked away to complete orders. eunjae glared at you before storming out once again.

‘oh thank god, you are an angel’ jeno gives you a quick hug, instantly pulling away. you still treasured that fraction of intimacy with him, you’d wish he just do it again.

the next week, jeno came into work, greeting you with a quick side hug before beginning to take orders.

you and yeji were making drinks when she started interrogating,

‘what’s up with you and jeno?’ she smirks.

‘nothing, there’s nothing’ you mutter, making it clear you were upset.

‘oh sweetie, do you like him?’ yeji frowned,

‘i’m not sure’ you sigh, looking over at the black haired boy who never stopped smiling it seemed. he had this aura about him that you couldn’t stray away from. maybe it was because you were both stuck at work and forced to communicate but you wanted to hang out with him outside of work, it just never came up.

later that day, you were munching on some fruit you had packed for your break, before jeno came in and took a seat across from you.

‘hey y/n, care to share?’ he smiled, which you couldn’t resist so you shoved the box of fruit towards him, causing him to let out a small chuckle.

‘any plans for the weekend?’ you started,

‘umm actually my school is having its junior prom. i wasn’t gonna go but my friends keep bugging me about it’ jeno shrugged, but the idea of prom to you, was a dream. your school didn’t really hold many dances or events, so this was all very exciting.

‘oh my god! that’s exciting, i missed prom last year because i had to take the late shift here. and my school isn’t having one this year. you’re lucky you get to have one, you should totally go.’ you excitedly blurted, as jeno watched you with such captivating eyes. he couldn’t get enough of your little rambles.

‘i might go, on one condition’ he gives you a grin in which you have him a confused expression.

‘you come to prom with me?’ he asked, figuratively crossing his fingers behind his back. you were startled by his question, you and jeno? going to prom together? would people ask questions?

‘wow i mean, if you’re okay with it, i would love to go with you to prom! i mean, like a date right?’ you accidentally blurted the last part in which you instantly regretted.

jeno flushed red before responding,

‘if you want it to be then sure, i’m down’ his response made you internally celebrate. jeno had a way with words. as well as his constant facial expressions.

you were going to prom, finally. also with lee jeno. two things you never expected to happen.

friday came along, for once jeno and you decided to hang out, outside of work. he took you to a park, to ride bikes, like you had suggested before.

‘slow down!! i have small and weak legs!’ you yell as jeno laughs hysterically in front of you.

‘oh stop being a baby!’ he comes to a halt in which you followed.

‘let’s go get a drink’ jeno smiled before pulling his bike with him to the nearest cafe. you both ordered a berry smoothie, taking a seat on a bench and chatting away.

‘so, any run ins with euntae lately?’ you teased while sipping on your drink. jeno just chuckled softly before replying,

‘i’ve actually spoken to her at school. i cleared everything up on my end. and for the most part i think she took it well? we aren’t on total bad terms’ you nodded at his words, glad that he was finally able to live freely.

‘that’s great! i’m happy for you’ you smiled as jeno looked over at you. you looked so huggable, like you needed someone to just embrace you forever. jeno wanted to be that person for you. but he would wait until prom for all the events to unfold.

you and jeno arrived at the prom separately, due to jeno’s pre prom plans with his friends, in which you didn’t want to interrupt. jeno’s eyes landed on you, standing at the front of the hall, hands gripped together and looking to the ground. he smiled to himself at how adorable you looked.

‘hey there’ he spoke, giving you a small shock before you slapped his shoulder lightly.

‘don’t sneak up on me please!’ you whine as you fixed your dress.

‘you look really pretty, y/n. i’m so glad you could come and accompany me’ jeno looked into your eyes which made you freeze. he had this glint of sparkle in them, which you couldn’t stop staring into.

‘hello?’ he flashed you an eye smile, which pulled you out of your daze.

‘oh uh sorry, spaced out. you look really good too, its a pleasure to be here’ you smiled back, trying to hide the blush that crept to your cheeks.

‘gosh, you don’t have to be so formal! let’s go inside!’ he chuckled before pulling you, while linking his fingers with yours. your palms were clammy and you hoped he didn’t notice. the prom, for the most part, consisted of you and jeno standing by the food and refreshment tables, eating and talking. there was some dancing, until you were pushed into the dance circle and could only remember the choreo to fancy.

‘you have some killer moves, y/n’ jeno teased whilst sipping on his drink, you rolled your eyes before pushing him till he lost balance.

‘let’s go outside, too many people here’ jeno locked his fingers with ours once again, which couldn’t make you stop blushing.

you both situated yourselves on the staircase outside the hall, the only people there being the security but they were ready to clock off for the night.

jeno didn’t let go of your interlocked fingers, which you didn’t mind at all.

‘can i tell you something?’ jeno blurted, looking into your eyes with an expression you couldn’t comprehend.

‘is it bad or good?’ you questioned, slightly feeling anxious for his response.

‘you can decide. i just wanted to tell you that, the reason i applied for the job at the shop was to uh, be friends with you’ jeno admitted, completely turning red. you were shocked at his words, your hand reaching to cover your mouth.

‘jeno! why would you- how? god you’re so lame!’ you giggled, softly slapping his shoulder while your fingers remained intertwined.

‘hey! i thought you were really pretty and you seemed so nice, i just had to get to know you!’ jeno blurted out even more, which kept making you giggle.

‘you could have just come into the store instead of staring at me like a creeper’ you teased as his eyes widened,

‘wait you saw that?’

‘yes! i thought you were cute too, don’t worry’ you smiled at him in which he returned the gesture.

‘what i’m trying to say with all of this is that, i really like you. like, you make my days worth while. when i was going through a tough time with my ex, you had my back and always helped me through it. i’m so grateful to have met you, i just can’t get you out of my head” you stopped him from speaking,

‘jeno can you just kiss me please?’ you whisper, bringing yourself closer to his face, your noses touching.

‘w-what?’ he stutters, as you reach to grab the sides of his face.

‘let me kiss you, lee jeno!’ you rolled your eyes playfully as he nodded eagerly. you pulled his lips to yours as he reached to grab onto your sides. kissing jeno was like everything you had imagined. he was gentle, and cautious, yet passionate and warm. you both pulled away, only centimetres apart.

‘wanna go get some tea?’ he joked as you pull him in for another short kiss.

‘you’re so lame, but i guess that’s why i like you’ you replied before intertwining your fingers again and walking with him to his car.

lee jeno was non stop adventure. he was unpredictable. yet, you couldn’t get him out of your head even if you tried.

#lee jeno #nct jeno #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #jeno imagine #nct fluff #nct fics #nct writing #nct dream fic #nct dream jeno #nct au #nct dream au #jisungsmochiimagines #jisungsmochi masterlist

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the100hurtme · 3 years

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Lol so I finished the second book a couple days ago but here were my thoughts cause I remember them clear as day lollll (this series makes me emo) soooooo A Court of Mist and Fury pt.1:

I KNEW I TAMPON WAS SUS

My autocorrect knew before I did and was trying to warn me 😒

I mean I didn’t like him that much anyway he was so bland and I swore he only communicated in grunts

She’s not a FREAKN toy oh my gosh 🙄

Wait it’s been months and Rhys hasn’t shown up??? How serious is this bargain thing

Wow these Books are🌶🌶

Awww poor Feyre 🥺 can no one here her puking her guts out at night????

Tampon just chillin on the bed can’t even hold her hair 😒

This “protective” stuff is def gonna be a bad shade on him

Who tf is Ianthe

Well Atleast she has a friend even tho sis just popping up out of nowhere

Noooooo Feyre doesn’t seem like herself is no one noticing how this she’s gotten??? Do they not have therapy in Prythian?

Ugh this writing is so good I can actually feel how hurt she was

Damn how do you cope with actually dying and seeing urself and turning into something you once hated???

Where tf is Rhys

Ok like I can cope with them being engaged, but are they really gonna get married???

OH THEYRE GONNA GET MARRIED

SHIT THEYRE GONNA GET MARRIED

SOMEONE SAVE HER NOT ONLY FROM THE MARRIAGE BUT THAT FUGLY DRESS

Awww it hurts reading her cry for help

YES DONT DO IT

FUCK YES FINALLY TAKE HER AWAY RHYS YES YES YES

oh shut up tampon 🙄

Ianthe sus sus for dippin like that

Awww yes rhys take her away from this bitches 🥺

Ok like I know that I want rhys to take her away but seriously tamlin isn’t gonna put up more of a fight?

Ugh yesss Lucien must have been tired for carrying the sass of the book for so long

FINALLY SOMEONE NOTICED SHES BEEN WITHERING AWAY PHYSICALLY AND MENTALLY

Wait how deep is this bargain bond (I’m still so confused about how that thing works)

I still stand by the their mates theory but idk how that works either and he hasn’t mentioned it

She’s so broken she can’t even push back at him damn her fire is really gone

Who’s the girl??? Pleaseeee no competition...

Lol Bruno Mars would def love the night court clothes

He’s having her read and put up shields wow. Also why did no one at spring court teach her how to read??? Like it’s not threatening or physically dangerous... lowkey annoyed with Lucien like the dude almost died cause she couldn’t read how come he’s not gonna teach her...

OH SHES HIS COUSIN aight that’s cool

Wow he’s actually giving her space idk I thought he would bug her a ton that’s really nice

LOL OF COURSE HES HAVING HER WRITE THAT

Nooooo don’t make her go back she’s actually eating and sleeping 🥺

DUDE WHAT WHY ARE YOU INTERROGATING HER

Bruh 🖕

Oop you just know something us about to go down at the tithe

Also for someone who said he doesn’t keep slaves the tithe is a bit sus there 😒

Dude that’s so glutinous to just keep taking and taking like that... if you have all that money why can’t you reduce their taxes!!! Also why is the Tithe so frequent tf

Are they not gonna discuss the wedding thing

Yeah what how are they supposed to pay in three days when there’s nothing??? Like most of the kingdom was under a damn spell

Is Feyre just supposed to be decoration???

Yes! There’s the backbone that we hadn’t seen from her in the last 7 chapters!

Damn tam don’t get your panties in a twist

Oh they are def gonna save her ass later

LOL I LOVE HOW SHE GAVE AWAY THE JEWELRY HE GAVE HER

Sis should have given them her engagement ring 😌

Wait how many powers does Feyre have??? I need a catalogue to list which court can do what... like if autumn can do fire how come dawn and day don’t get fire??? Like I’m sure it makes sense but my mind is tired

Lolllll Alis is a whole mood

Yeah you better be saying sorry tampon 🙄

Does the mans not see she hasn’t painted anything in months??? Like read the room omg

Awww she has PTSD badddd someone come save her :(((

WTF YOU CANT JUST DO THAT DUDE WTF

Atleast he shielded her somehow

HE WASNT THE ONE SHIELDING HER

Bruh wtf is Rhys?!? Or even Lucien or Ianthe do they not like Feyre or something

BRUH WHY CANT YOU JUST HOLD HER WTF fIng horndog 😒

Sis you don’t owe him anything, but she’s so nice for trying I would have dipped so fast

YES RHYS YAYYYYYYY

Dang the clothes are even looser than before 😞

bruh these two are just wrapped in trauma aren’t they :(

Well that picture show must have kept him up at night oof

HOW DOES NO ONE CHECK TO SEE IF SHES ALRIGHT LIKE ITS NOT JUST THAT SHES NOT PAINTING THE GIRL IS LITERALLY WASTING AWAY

I expect if from tampon but damn Lucien is on some thin ice

Bro everytime I read “looks at me with worry” it physically hurts like ouch

Is this just gonna be a thing where she only gets checked on and fixed one week a month just for her to wither away again?

Yeah where is Mor? On the map the night court is so big how many Fae are in this court

The whole invading other people minds thing stresses me out.

Bruh Amarantha was bad and controlled all those courts how can something be worse than that

can someone find out what books Feyre is reading??? Like what kind of books would the High Lord of the Night Court give her to read?

Please don’t let her fall apart Rhys

Dang this book is so realistic that going through that shit can actually haunt you for a while. Most books just skip over it I like that she’s actually going through it thoroughly

WTF TAMLIN

Dude why can’t he train her??? Like she’s losing control of it might as well teach her how to wield it on purpose

Yes Lucien talk to him 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽

They really don’t let her do anything at all, idk how do you live life when you feel utterly useless

Why can’t he just tell her where they’re going???

Ok Lucien earning some brownie points I guess for trying

HE DID WHAT

Bruh WHAT

RHYS WHERE YOU AT

I knew I liked Alis

How come Mor is the one getting her? Ohhhh some other weird court rules I dont understand

Damn that must have been so traumatizing for Feyre

Lolllll Rhys is about to lose his shit and I’m here for it

YES DONT GO BACK YES

YAYAYAYAY SUCK IT TWMPON

WE’RE GONNA MEET RHYS FRIENDS I think he has friends I hope he does

awwwww city do starlight sounds nice

Lol they must not know about this city if they think Rhys is terrible

HOW DOES SHE WRITE THIS WORLD my imagination isn’t even that big!!!

Aight so since this book is hella long expect multiple parts of your actually following along with this!

#acotar #a court of mist and fury #feyre archeron #rhysand #Lucien #tamlin #spoilers #lollllll these books will be the death of me

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musicalmagic · 4 years

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Scared Of Being Swept Away (Self-Doubt)

Summary: You're a college student studying linguistics with Namjoon. He offers to help you study one day, but ends up scaring you when he attempts to get you to open up after you keep saying you're stupid and'll never get anything. Namjoon then ends up drunk on your doorstep after texting you, apologising and worried for you. The next day is when he finally realises why you're so afraid.

A/N: The first of my stories to reach past 1k into 2k territory (included the alternate title as well). I hope you don’t mind such a lengthy one-shot, I’m open to writing more for all the members for the stories I’ve written. I did really enjoy writing this, as you must’ve guessed! Hahaha, wow... This story was also the hardest for me to write so far...

*Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

*Word Count: 2,136

*Genre: Fluff

*Warnings: None

“You’ve used the wrong word for this again, _____.” Namjoon calmly explained. You were both friends in college studying Linguistics. Currently, you two were going over syntaxes. Of course Namjoon picked everything up well (but you were sure it’s because of his motivation…), you however, kept getting mixed up between word grammar and operator grammar.

“I’m telling you Namjoon, I’ve got this,” you assured him.

He rolled his eyes, “Yes, sure. You got confused about reduction and mis-labelled it for word grammar. I believe that.”

“Come on! It isn’t my fault I can’t pick this up! I’m not smart like you Namjoon!” You grumbled, dramatically dropping your pen on the textbook in front of you. He picked up the rolling pen, twirling it absentmindedly, amusement traded in for worry.

“____, you are. You may not believe me, that’s okay. Smartness, intelligence, everyone’s different, you know?” He leaned back in the library chair, watching you as you bit your lip, “Your talent lies in other things, and besides,” He moves closer to you, pointing the pen to your heart, “It’s all about perspective. You believe you aren’t smart, that’s fine. But may I pose the question, if you thought you were all the time, what would you think then?”

“I would be ignorant into my own thinking, Namjoon,” you replied while crossing your arms. Namjoon placed the pen in front of him.

“True. But now, going back to saying you weren’t, if you recognise your own perspective, isn’t that intelligence? Plenty of people claim they are geniuses, high IQ, no? Personally, I believe that if you see your own faults, that’s how you can grow. If I say that I’m smart since I was born, that isn’t growth, is it?”

You sigh, Namjoon’s lectures always seemed to go over your head. You stared at him with a puzzled expression.

“Okay, maybe,” He sighed, “Sorry…Maybe we should just keep studying.”

“I should be the one apologising, sitting here making you study with me.”

Namjoon tapped the table all of the sudden, startling you.

“Let’s go,” he said quickly, gathering all of his things, and yours straight after, “We need a change of pace.”

You get tugged out of the college library, the brightness of the sun glaring against your eyes. Namjoon wraps his hand around yours softly, pulling you along to a nearby park.

“Namjoon—!” You start to say before he sat you down and hold your hands close to your heart.

Namjoon breathes deeply before whispering, “See here, that’s where I want you to focus. _____, how do you see yourself?”

“Stupid,” you replied softly.

“Let it go.” He stated.

“What?” You asked, confused.

Namjoon lets his own hands drop to his lap, “Let it go.” He said again.

“Let go of…?” Sighing gently, Namjoon holds your hands that were pressed against your chest, pulling them downwards to your lap, copying him from just before.

“What you think,” he replied simply, studying your expression, “You need to, _____.”

You shake your head, “I can’t, Joonie. I just can’t do that…”

“Are you afraid of it?”

“No…” He stared at you as you dug your nail into your palm. Nervously trembling.

“What’s stopping you?” You don’t look at him, preferring to stare at the tree behind Namjoon. Spring is gently touching the leaves, turning the colours to a nice, tranquil green.

“…____?” He tried again. You still don’t reply.

______

After your humiliating study session with Namjoon, you ended up sulking. Why did he have to do that?

He texted you after you left, after you went to go for a coffee. You were waiting in line to order when a message from him popped up.

[Namjoon: 4:23pm] I’m sorry for stressing you out.

You quickly typed out your reply.

[You: 4:23pm] Can you please not do that again?

[Namjoon: 4:28pm] I won’t ever again. That was wrong of me. I shouldn’t have overstepped like that.

Pleased, you ordered an Ice Americano instead of a latte (what you were originally going to order), as a small treat and headed back to your apartment. Namjoon didn’t text you again pretty much the entire day and early evening the next day. Until, you got a message from a drunk Namjoon, very rarely would Namjoon drink; so him drunk is a novelty despite being in college.

[Namjoon: 6:12pm] ____, don’t you now I hare tgar youew mean to urself?

[Namjoon: 6:12pm] I try ti help youuu but I feel likw it sometems goed nowhere…

You chuckled at his drunk writing, but a little teary at what he was saying (well, trying to say).

[You: 6:14pm] Namjoonie, please drink some water. You’re drunk right now…

[Namjoon: 6:14pm] Nooooo I don’t wanna :( :(

Ah, he sounds so needy…It’s weirdly cute, you thought to yourself as you typed out your reply. But, a knock from your apartment door broke your concentration. When you walked over to the front from the living room, you were surprised to find Namjoon standing there.

As you opened the door, Namjoon crushed you into a bear hug. You had to physically man-handle him inside as he clung to you. Shuffling him into the living room to sit down.

“Kim. Nam. Joon. What are you doing here?” You asked, a little crossed, but also a bit worried.

Namjoon looked like a sad puppy as he replied, a little slurred, “I wanted to see youuu.”

“But Namjoonie, you shouldn’t have come over drunk!”

“I-I felt really badddd…” He said sourly, pouting.

You sighed, rubbing your forehead. After a couple moments of him staring at you, you headed off into the kitchen to get a glass of water. You returned to Namjoon hugging your pillow, but it was looking close to popping.

“N-Namjo—” The pillow popped.

You stood there just as stunned as Namjoon was, and him being drunk, was slower to realise what just happened. He slowly looked up at you with puppy-dog eyes as he held the lifeless pillow, looking close to losing it.

Once again, you sighed. Albeit a little heavier than before.

That’s when the rant happened, “I’m sorry ____! I didn’t mean to pop the pillow I seriously didn’t want to do that I don’t know what you want me to do and I promise you this wasn’t meant to happen please don’t get mad I’ll pay you back,” you tried to interject, calling his name, but he just kept going, “I-I really didn’t want to pop it and I’m sorry for coming over like this I just felt so bad and worried and that I betrayed our friendship or that you wouldn’t like me anymore,” you stopped him by belting his name this time.

“Namjoonie!” He stopped immediately, mid-sentence and looking like he was caught chewing on his owner’s shoes, “Please stop rambling, okay?”

You gave him the glass of water, which you held through all that time, “Drink this and stay here. You obviously, somehow rode your bike here, but I doubt you’d be able to do that back home now.”

He sniffled, it was cute, but you were more worried about the man on your couch drunk and in a panicked state. You were more worried if he was okay.

“I’m sorry…” he softly pleaded. You patted his head as he drank the water, “No biggie, okay Namjoonie? Nothing to be so upset over. It’s just one pillow,” you cooed.

He had finished quickly, a slight blush on his cheeks as he handed the empty glass back to you. You smiled gently as you padded back into the kitchen. Coming out to see him settling in on the couch.

“Y-You--I make you act like a mother… I never mean to,” Namjoon mumbled, words slurring together, as he adjusted the unhappy popped pillow. You only rolled your eyes, slipping out the popped pillow for a fresh one and drabbing over a doona on him that rested atop a table up against the couch.

“I know, I know. But hey, you help me more than enough too. You respect me, I respect you. It’s mutual Namjoonie,” you reply.

He smiled, dimples and all, “You sounded like me!” You chuckled, clicking off the light as you exited into the hallway.

“Sleep tight.”

______

Namjoon had groaned as he opened his eyes. His back ached, and his arm felt like it fell asleep. But more importantly, he was hungover. Badly. He knew where he was, on your couch, he made sure he didn’t drink to the point of blackout; yet the headache that pressed up against his skull was more than enough to piss him off into a promise of never drinking again. That, of course, being a futile thing. Linguistics was a pain, even to him.

He looked around from his head against the pillow, the TV blackened like the night sky, as he moved his head, Namjoon felt his neck crack in anger. He slept on his neck wrong as well!

You walked into the room, humming softly. You wore your favourite pjs, all-cotton pastel blue, with a little moon embroidered onto the pocket on the right side of your chest.

Namjoon watched you silently, a little gasp on his lips. Never seeing you like this, it was definitely a sight that he wouldn’t forget anytime soon. How soft you appeared to be, even more so than two days ago. His heart still ached when he saw how distraught he had made you. He hadn’t wanted to make you feel like that. He just really hated to see how little you thought of yourself.

“____, you’re,” Namjoon paused, mulling over what to say, “W-Well…do you need help with breakfast?” He finally asked.

You just laughed breathlessly, “No Namjoon. Last time you tried to cook, we ended up having to scrap the entire thing because you burned all of it!” He shyly looked away, covering his face as his blush fully creeped up, embarrassed was only the half of it.

“I apologise for everything…” He began, still covering his face as he spoke, “I really didn’t mean to come here so out of it, and it was wrong of me to forcefully try you to be more open. It was wrong, and I really, really didn’t want to hurt you,” Namjoon finished, his shoulders relaxing slightly. Worry thudded its way through his bones when he didn’t hear your reply.

“Namjoon,” his name from you suddenly startled him, he dropped his hands from his face to see your lips pursed, “It’s okay. I understand why you did what you did. It was just sudden, and you left me with no way to breathe… You don’t, quite know why it bothered me so, no?” He shook his head.

“No, I don’t, and I shouldn’t have assumed things so quickly,” you hummed at his answer.

You sat down next to him, he had to shuffled his legs out of the way and curled up underneath the doona. You sighed, staring at him, and somehow Namjoon knew what you were going to say. He choked up as you started, “I-I’m… just afraid Namjoon… I’m afraid of being swept away, there’s others in the class who are just so much more able to pick up on things better than I can,” despite himself, a man who rarely gave physical affection by his own, he wrapped his arms around you tightly.

“You need to be kinder to yourself,” he said, wincing after as his headache panged, “You can do so much that you don’t see. I want to help you see it, but I know I can’t; I’m just a reminder for you.”

“Namj—”

“Let me finish, please ____.” You rested your head against his shoulder, huffing, “____, I hope you know that you can do this. It may seem bleak right now, our exams are coming up and I know it’s going to be difficult; but you really can get through this. Please, please find that strength to believe in yourself. I hate seeing you this way.”

You felt tears prickle its way out, so scared of it falling yet you didn’t want to leave Namjoon’s embrace. So instead you held onto him as he whispered to you.

You really did hate it all, how your thoughts seemed to counter everything he said to you. That you weren’t good anything. It was screaming at you to let go, to sulk, to change majors. But Namjoon kept on, even if he didn’t know everything, he at least knew that you were dealing with so much hidden away. He couldn’t help you completely, but he was still going to be there for you.

“No matter what it says, I’ll be here to tell you reality. Even if it takes an eternity, I won’t let you be swept away anymore.”

#bts x reader #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #college reader #college namjoon #bts fluff #fluff #bts fic #bts stories #bts #fluffy story

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bejeweledbuckley · 4 years

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I'll gladly help you procrastinate! For the character ask, Ayda Aguefort, Pete the Plug, and First of her Name, Sovereign Ruler of Candia and the Sugarlands, Witch-Queen of the Dairy Sea, High Priestess of the Sweetening Path, Archmage of Lost Sucrosia, Enemy of the Faith, The Sundae Sorceress, Storm-Captain of the Frosted Fleet, Queen Saccharina of House Frostwhip.

oh gosh this got LONG kldsaljda ty for the ask friend! sorry for the weird formatting i had to copy it from the notes app because i didn’t trust tumblr not to randomly delete it while i was typing

Ayda

Why I like them- goodness gracious why do I love Ayda? Best best best girl. She wants friends desperately but she has a hard time but she doesn’t try to change herself to do it? And she is just,, so brilliant and Wonderfull and she makes me very emotional. Fun fact, there’s a video on YouTube that’s just all of her appearances, and I started watching that when I couldn’t get access to dropout because I was so intrigued about what I saw on Tumblr! And she’s like 60% of the reason I got dropout

* Why I don’t- BEST GIRL.

* Favorite episode (scene if movie)- I mean the figayda first kiss and everything that preceded it was GOLD. Also the scene where adaine asks if she wants to hold boggy. What an angel.

* Favorite season/movie- sophomore year obviously! Can’t wait for more content with her as time goes on!

* Favorite line- “NOOO IT’S TOO CUTE!” And “if i was you, i wouldn’t want to be anyone else” “I too am a low quality child”

* Favorite outfit- the sweater she’s wearing in the full version of my icon because its says “reading is lit” and I love the pun sm! you know one of the bad kids would get it for her! https://rabdoidal.tumblr.com/post/190876580075/baby-youre-hands-down-the-best-thing-about-me-and

* OTP- Fig!! They’re such a good balance for each other! Fig is always trying to be other people, but around Ayda she’s growing into herself more! And Ayda learning from fig too, getting out of her comfort zone and GAH I LOVE THEM. IN THE WORDS OF LOU WILSON I BLESS THIS UNION

* Brotp- Adaine! Gorgug! And Cheese of course!

* Head Canon- I have no idea how junior year is gonna go, but I can see her spending time at Aguefort trying to talk more with her dad and see her friends since she doesn’t really know anyone else in Elmville? And she will slowly and accidentally take over their school library and anyone taking wizard classes will totally come to her for advice! Let Ayda have all the friends okay.

* Unpopular opinion- I talked about this in a different ask but her cameo in pirol felt just a bit out of place? Like if I hadn’t seen fhsy it would’ve really thrown me off and it kinda messed with the standalone nature of the season. That being said I LOVED that scene!! i want more of her and cheese being friends!

* A wish- idc how unrealistic it may be, fig and ayda will be high school sweethearts dang it! I think they’ll have their struggles for sure, but that’s endgame baby!

* An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen- if brennan hurts her I WILL be meeting him in the denny’s parking lot, no mercy

* 5 words to best describe them- brilliant, radiant, outstanding, show-stopping, resplendent

* My nickname for them- best girl!!

Pete the Plug

Why I like them- my boy is really trying his best!! The voice of the dreams, who finds a home and people who love and respect and support him, who stares down the dream and asks to see its true form.

Why I don’t- I love him your honor!

Favorite episode (scene if movie)- yo I bingewatched this season so fast my memory is badddd so I’m not sure!

Favorite line: my memory is such garbage man!! Idk!! I just looked through his Tumblr tag and that one line in the coffee shop where he asks where the crying booth is is GOLD

Favorite outfit- cowboy hat KING

OTP- I am not immune to the Pete/ricky/ester/Sofia polycule,,

Brotp- Kingston!! they had a rough patch, but I love the way they grow to understand and care for each other! And also Nod ofc, their scenes were my favorite!

Head Canon: he pops up at the hospital to grab lunch with Kingston and the other nurses are just like “Kingston your boy is here” and no one corrects them

Unpopular opinion: I’m not sure tbh? I have trouble with these cause I’m not sure what the popular opinions are

A wish- someone get that boy a sweater. Its New York in December he’s gonna FREEZE he needs a COAT

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen- no more toxic relationships! Let him thrive!

5 words to best describe them- unpredictable, wild, wonderful, passionate, reckless

My nickname for them- not a nickname but occasionaly i will see fanart and just go KING in my head. love that vox fantasma

QUEEN SACCHARINA

* Why I like them: it’s illegal for me not to fall in love with Emily’s PCs. Her backstory absolutely wrecked me! She’s trying so hard, she was without a family for so long and she found a family and then she was finally reunited with her blood family and it was weird and complicated and FCK she’s so good

* Why I don’t- Emily axford does no wrong

* Favorite episode (scene if movie)- finale! Holy shit that finale! (Also for scene, that first round of combat where she thunder steps and saves Joren. Holy fcking moly.)

* Favorite line: god it hurt me DEEPLY, but I can’t stop thinking about “you can be my sister or my queen, but you can’t be both” “then I choose to be your queen”

Favorite outfit- anything as long as she has a CROWN dang it

OTP- a loving home where she can spread magic and have PEACE

Brotp- Theo!! Axmurph were killing me this season!

Head Canon- one of the ways she bonds with her family is taking them on rides on Cinnamon! That feeling of freedom, of magic; it helps them understand her better, and it shows that they trust her. The first time Ruby goes flying with her, she tells her to hang on so they can do something cool, and Ruby instinctually wraps her arms around Saccharina. It’s the first time they hug. They don’t mention it, but they both get a little misty eyed.

Unpopular opinion- I really wanted a scene where she asked about Jet. She’s spent so long wanting a family, just to find out once again the church had taken the chance from her. i have some,, personal feelings about what that would be like and I really wish that her feelings about that had been explored a little more

A wish: oh let her be happy PLEASE. Her family may have gotten off on the wrong foot, but those bonds WILL grow

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen- if we had gotten the bad ending of them turning on each other,, oh god

5 words to best describe them- fierce, magical, powerful, resilient, strong

My nickname for them- I just love the nickname Rina for her!!

#geometricalien #turtle's ask box

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yamithediaperdork · 4 years

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Forgotten stories/tweak old story: Do you believe in Magic? (Malcore)

Do you believe in magic?

Once upon a time, well, maybe not that long ago there was a brother and a sister, named Malcore and Des. Malcore was a growing boy, 14 years of age while Des was 6, though growing up ever so fast. Malcore was a kind, loving big brother who would of done anything for his little sister, until one fateful day when while playing with her outside, a group of his friends had seen him pretending to be a baby (they had been playing house) and he’d endured weeks of teasing. After that, Malcore stopped playing with Des who didn’t understand why her wonderful big brother was such a big doo doo head all of a sudden. Upset, Des asked to go out to their aunts while Malcore stayed home to explain things out to their father, then to Mom when she got back. Both of them had understood what Malcore was trying to say, and were willing to have a talk with Des before her bedtime.

Meanwhile at auntie Karen’s, Des told their aunt what a awful big brother Malcore was, and might of lied a little, making him sound like a little monster. Aunt Karen who (maybe) sort of favored Des more then Malcore was a little bit miffed by what she heard, and wished that Malcore had come out too now..Since she would of put the boy in his place. However, She had anther way of doing so... You See, one of the reasons why Aunt Karen dotted on Des to the degree that she did, was that Des was like her auntie..a witch. Oh, it would take awhile for her to master her powers, but the girl had the potential. Malcore on the other hand, was very much like his father, and devoid of any magic. even her sister while unable to cast spells was ungiue in being immune to magic. Sending Des off to watch some tv, and enjoy a snack of cookies and milk..Aunt Karen started to weave together a doll that would look like her nephew..and made sure to use some of his hair that she had (And they had called her creepy!) to bind the doll to him. If Des was powerful as Karen thought..then in Des’s hands Malcore was going to have quite a interesting afternoon..or longer depending on how long it took her sister to figure out what was going on.

While Des was over at Aunt Karen’s, Malcore had gone over to his friends house to play some video games. He endured a few taunts about them asking if he needed a diaper changed when he had farted, which had led to some rough housing and Malcore being asked to head home by his friends parents. He didn’t know what was in store for him as he took a little detour, he wasn’t expected home till supper time so he went though a little bit of woods nearby..staying on a trail mostly used by joggers on a lazy Sunday afternoon like today. it took longer to get home but the woods opened up right by his back yard, so if you had the time it beat walking on the sidewalk..and ironically, he’d have no idea how lucky he was he decided to take this route, or that he had been kicked out when he was.

“Auntie Karen gave me a new dollie!” Des said super excited in the back seat of the car, almost bouncing as mom drove them home. “That’s nice of her. did she get Malcore something?” Megan asked, knowing her sisters slightly biased attuide towards her kids. “She said if Malcore was gonna be a doo doo head he wouldn’t get a present.” Des huffed. Megan sighed..knowing it would be pointless to try and talk to Des till the little girl calmed down some more. “Well Malcore’s at his friends house anyways..” “Course he is..well i’ma gonna play with my dolly in my room.” Des said, as the car pulled into the driveway. Parking and letting Des out of the back seat, Megan ruffled her hair. “Ok kiddo, have fun.” She said and watched Des run off, with a my little voodoo doll toy..

Des hadn’t yet opened the white box, but as she did she found a small dolly that...looked just like her big brother and gasped in surprise. he was wearing exactly what Malcore was wearing at the moment! She also found a letter from Aunt Karen in the box, and while it took a bit of effort, she managed to get the basic meaning of it. More or less Aunt Karen told her to take out her frustrating on her big brother with the dolly, and feel better. She warned her not to be too rough with the dolly, and treat it like it was a living person, as the magic..whatever that meant, would be lost if the doll was killed.. Des didn’t understand how a doll could be killed but put the letter instead and looked in the box, expecting to find more boy clothes and stuff, and maybe a Des dollie. While there wasn’t a Des dolly, there was lots and lots of girls clothes, just the right size for the Malcore doll, and...diapers and other baby things! Des Giggled like a mad woman and got ready to play with her new toy, tugging down it’s pants and noting how it was wearing balloon print undies, just like Malcore still did.

Malcore was on the path, relaxing and enjoying the sights around him when suddenly he felt a yanking..and his jeans were around his ankles! the teen’s face flushed red and he moved to pull the pants back up but found himself..hovering in the air as they were tugged off his ankles! “W-What the feck!?” Malcore yelped, and then watched in dismay as his jean soared off over the trees..to go knows where, leaving him on the trail..in his shirt and undies. He was set back down on his feet, and feeling bewildered..till he heard a giggle behind him. Whirling around, there was a older lady, 18-20, in shorts and top, a jogger most likely, looking at the red faced boy. “You know, This really isn’t the place to flash off your undies little boy.” She teased. “I-I..”Malcore stammered, and then he tried to cover himself. “Whatever. just go and get your pants back on..the next person might not be so forgiving.” the woman laughed and then started to jog again, leaving Malcore behind... Like he wanted to flash off his undies!!

Having set the dolls jeans to the side, and behind careful to fold them (Des was a Lil bit of a neat freak) she moved onto getting the socks and shirt off of her Malcore doll next, having already selected a pretty blue dress for her brother..a bit of a evil grin on her face. She had no idea that thanks to her magic potential, everything she was doing to the doll was happening to him, and likely, with the mind set she was in, wouldn’t of cared.

Malcore was running off the path, being careful not to cut his legs on the branch's when he felt himself being lifted up again and groaned in despair. “Pleassse let this just be a dream!” He squeaked and then his socks and socks came off..and his shirt as well..and they flew though the trees as he was set down again..left in the middle of the woods in just his underwear..scared and confused.

“Let’s see,what sorta socks should I use for my big brother..” Des giggled, then grinned as she found some frilly knee highs..and then a pair of black Mary Jane’s. they would SO go along with the pretty blue dress she had picked.. Feeling a Lil evil, she pretend that Malcore was pleading with her as she got ready to dress him. “No Des, i’m sorry i was such a stinky doo doo boy! please don’t make me into a pretty girl!” She said in a deep version of her voice. “Sorry Malcore, it’s for your own good, now be a good girl or else I’ll have to spank you!”

Slowed down by the lack of shoes, Malcore was almost to the tree line when he felt himself lifting up again..and he grabbed at his underwear with both hands, assuming that that was next. Instead clothes can flying from nowhere at him, and as he looked, he realized what KIND of clothes they were and whimpered. “Oh god, PLEASE let this be a bad dream!” he cried out, as the white socks worked they’re way up his legs..then the Mary Jane's buckled themselves to his feet. “this isn’t real...this isn’t real..” he chanted to himself..eyes clothes..then felt his arms tugged up..and looked at the pretty blue dress. “Oh god please don’t let this be real...”

With the dress on ’Malcore’ Des set the dolly down and smiled..the sight of her big brother dressed like this was going to keep her smiling for quite some time. she hmmed and ha’ed about putting him in one of the pairs of panties in the box, but then decided the diapers would be cuter. but first... “Oh gawd, Please Des, I’m Sooo sorry!” She said in her Malcore voice, and made the dolly get on its knees like it was begging for forgiveness.

Malcore whimpered as he was set back on his feet..then yelped as he went onto his knees, the branch's on the ground poking him. “the fuck is going on!?” He demanded out loud.

“I dunno Malcore, you’ve been such a jerk and-” “Change me back right now or I’m gonna kick your butt!” She said in her Malcore voice, and then Des sighed. “you brought this on yourself big brother.” she scold and picked up the dolly, swatting it’s butt.

Malcore shut his eyes, scared of what was next as he was lifted up into the air..then his dress...ugh...HIS dress...was tugged up in the back...and Malcore suddenly had a badddd feeling...

his suspicions were confirmed a moment later when he felt the slaps on his butt, and despite himself, he was bawling like a baby by the third swat, tears rolling down his cheeks and covering his mouth trying not to attract anyone with the noise he was making.

Des took a little bit of water from her..and trickle it down the dolly undies..making sure to keep the dolls dress out of the way and then scolded. “Malcore! did you wet yourself!?”

the spanking stopped but that wasn’t the worse part..as without warning Malcore’s bladder gave way and with the dress tugged out of the way he soaked his undies! he felt anther swat on his bottom, then the offending undies were tugged off of him (though somehow not getting his shoes or socks wet...) and then Malcore was on his feet, the dress pinned up and his privates on display. But this was the break he needed...not sure what was going on, he took off running for the house, and just hoped no one would see him. the fates were nice (in this regard at least) and Malcore made it to the back porch, panting and looking around outside..making sure no one had seen him. he didn’t see the diaper creeping up behind him as he looked out the window..till once again he was in the air.

“Really Malcore, I thought you were a big kid. well, whatever. I understand if your just my little baby sister.” Des giggled and then taped one of the poofy diapers on the Malcore dolly, then put a bow in his hair. Setting the dolly down, she loved how the diapers peeked out from the dress. She stopped, as she heard a sob (Des’s room was over the back porch) that sounded a lot like Malcore, and carried the dolly with her she went downstairs to see what was the matter.

Malcore was mortified...here he was, a young man...and he was dressed like a over sized one year old. he couldn’t spit out the pacifier in his mouth no matter how hard he tried, and resigned himself to it as he started to cry again..and slowly opened the door, having no idea how he was going to explain this to mom and dad. (who, were in the basement den where the TV was set up watching the game) Malcore was bright red as he saw Des of all people..the person he had told he wasn’t a baby doll..come up and go slack jaw staring at him...till he noticed the doll in her hand. "...OU!” He cried out, albeit muffled due to the pacifier, pointing at the dolly. Des looked down..then at him..then at the dolly..and grinned. “Oh my gosh..Aunt Karen really does give the best gifts!” Des giggled, then yelped as Malcore lunged at her. he got his hands on the dolly, for the briefest of moments..then had to let go of it, as he hunched over and held his belly..he had almost voided himself! the feeling was gone the second the dolly was let go of..and Malcore looked at Des who was not amused at all. “I’m gonna let that one go, cuz I bet you’ve had a rough day.” She said with a smirk. “But I think you understand that from now on, things are gonna be a little different around the house..unless you wanna go to school like this.” Des said, her sweet voice dripping with venom. Malcore whimpered..and started to cry again..and Des, being the good big sister she was, had him stand up and turn around so she could pat the back of his diaper to see why the big baby was crying..

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ultrakeystotheheartblog · 6 years

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Not So Alone (Part 2) (Teen Titans x Reader)

Part 2 of 2

Request: Requested by multiple people.

“Uhm, your teen titans imagine was?? so great?? I would totally love a sequel omg (only if u want obv)”

“Omg please I just read the fic and want a sequel too so badddd you don’t have to if you don’t want to but I’d be super hype to see it and read and scream because the first parts great” - @laneygthememequeen

A/N: I’m back! I’m not dead! And I am definitely going to write an update some time soon to explain everything that’s happened, but for right now I’m just gonna go ahead and say thank you again for all the positive comments and support that the first part received. I wasn’t expecting so many people to enjoy it, so I was over the moon at the response. With that said, I hope you all enjoy this part too ♥♥♥

(PS: This was the imagine that got the most votes, so the final part for my Jason Todd fic will be coming next! And, uh, It’s already turning out like a novel guys, prepare yourselves).

Warning: Swearing. Little bit of angst, but mostly a whole lot of fluff.

*********************************************************************************

You can’t help but feel that something is not quite right today.

Things are quiet.

Too quiet.

There’s no bouncing music or flashing video games, no arguing, no laughing, no daily echoes of training or disastrous calamities unfolding in the kitchen. No doting, friendly teammates to regale you with their presence (as what’s been the norm for the past few weeks while you’ve begrudgingly, slowly, began to heal from your injuries). No, the Tower is practically, for lack of a better or less ironic term, dead. And has been for most of the day—a husk of boredom and loneliness and one too many pieces of cold, leftover pizza.

Not to mention that looming cloud that’s followed over your head, a suspicious kind of quiet that’s been pressing in all around you like a swarm of invisible hands, seeping into the very foundation of the room. It’s been keeping you teetering on the edge of a pinpoint for literal hours—your fight or flight response practically grinding its teeth in preparation for an inevitable...something. And all the while you sink further into the entertainment room’s monstrous, curved couch and try to focus on ‘relaxing’.

Ha.

You’d be more relaxed if you knew where everyone disappeared to.

But alas, you do not—no matter how much the urge to snoop is (and you so want to snoop), because that’s not what friends do. At least, you think it’s not. You have to admit, it’s been a long time since you’ve considered anyone a friend, but you’re trying. Trying to let go of the past. Trying to be vulnerable. To be good. To be open. And you very much find yourself liking all the ensuing, chaotic changes in your life recently. But you’re rusty and unsure, and always, always, waiting for some other shoe to drop.

You don’t want it to.

You really don’t want it to.

But sometimes you wonder if it would give you some sort of relief from all the waiting—if that metaphorical shoe just got it over with already and put its ugly, metaphorical foot down. So you could breathe without all this pinchy, backwards kind of guilt you’ve been storing up inside for years, waiting to finally punch out into the world like a nest of angry wasps. Like you should feel bad for wanting to be a part of something....something more.

You’ve always hated just waiting for something to happen. But here you are now; alone, completely over-thinking the meaning of life, and left to stew in a concoction of sulky feelings that leaves you nauseous in a way you’ve worked so hard to forget.

So.

With your sore legs propped up onto the coffee table for comfort, you just continue to glare at the blank TV screen and watch your faded reflection in the shine of the glass, biting bitterly into the last of the pizza crust from the plate balanced in your lap.

ZuZu (as declared by Star the morning you’d first woken up—words tripping in a rush of excitement and a stream of breathless chatter about some sort of inspiration from an earth movie—while she gently sits the little creature into your lap with a ceremonious flourish of her arms) flops onto their belly to find a more comfortable position beside you.

Their front legs tuck underneath their bulk, long, spiked tail curling around their body in looping circles, before they come to rest their head on your hip, staring intensely at the leftover crust between your fingers.

They’re about the size of a small dog, heavy and wide, with the hybrid body structure of some sort of lizard and a...well, a bear. Their face is coated in silky auburn fur, snout ridged and twitchy, large heavy-lidded, expressive pink eyes set deep in their sockets. The majority of their torso and back legs are scaled and shiny, while three stripes of that autumn colored fur zigzag down their back, their front legs thick and capped with massive fuzzy paws and hooked dark claws. But the most distinctive features are the large, pleated creases of skin which usually lay folded back against their head and neck.

A frill, like you remember seeing once, adorning a lizard from some travelling petting zoo. It’s supported by long spines of cartilage connected to each side of their jaw bone, and when spread to encircle the entirety of their head, is lined in pink and filled with bright orange scales.

Beast Boy called it a ‘deimatic display’ that first day, a behavior or reaction of patterns and colors used like a defensive bluff—akin to beady eyes on the back of a moth’s wings or selective changes in the body pattern of a cuttlefish—manipulated to startle, display a warning, or distract predators. But it seems ZuZu is able to use it a bit differently—a slight alien twist to the reaction, which allows them to communicate solely through a language formed by varying flashes and multitudes of color.

You’ve all been scrambling to figure out the meanings behind each display lately, trading yes or no questions with the creature at any given point throughout the day, before documenting any noticeable details in the Tower’s staggering, inexhaustible database.

Red, you’ve found quickly, suggests that they’re annoyed, or angry, or generally, exceedingly, unhappy about something. Yellow, on the other hand, simply implies content in the most peaceful sense. And pink? That’s become their version of taunting—something smug and annoyingly self-assured, which seems to be their more….colourful version of resting bitch face.

You grunt at the heavy weight of ZuZu’s head as it presses more firmly against bruised muscles and skin, hidden away beneath the cozy, cotton sweatpants you’d wrestled from the bottom of your closet. It doesn’t keep you from slipping deeper though, into the clouded memories shrouding that first dreamlike morning after finally waking.

Robin—grinning, more relaxed then you’d ever seen him, and already lying back in his spot beside you on the bed—had leaned over when Star finally took a moment to find her breath, voice dipping low as he casually filled in the most obvious, glaring blanks in her story. He explained how they’d come upon ZuZu while rushing you back to the tower for medical attention—left behind by their master, defensive and shaking, and hidden away beneath the burning hot rubble from unlucky buildings crushed during the Jump City attack.

You can vaguely recall those creatures and their part in the invasion, as you hold the curious, unwavering stare of your new housemate. You pinpoint a fuzzy recollection of hundreds of similar alien hybrids, large percents of them being used as cannon fodder against the city’s responding defense—some sort of attack dogs or bloodhounds originally breed for what seemed to be an unparalleled sense of incoming danger. And a lethal aptitude for sniffing out and marking targets, even in the most extreme of circumstances. All to make the invading attack’s that much more…. precise.

Equally as shaken and heartbroken, both Starfire and Beast Boy insisted on giving little ZuZu a home, one without the need for cold masters and needless sacrifices.

Robin admitted that it took some convincing to get him to agree, but that he caved to them rather quickly, like the truly soft-hearted dork you know he is on the inside. The one, you’ve been noticing, that is no longer carefully tempered behind masks both metaphorical and literal (like those you’d learned to cultivate for yourself, to ensure your own survival among the flocks of good and evil in this world)—all veils of enigmatic charm and cool leadership, strategy and logic.

(While for just as long, you had mused, you refined your wall of sarcasm and teasing, and strained, plastic smiles. Even as fate saw it fit to laugh and thrust you into the role of cosmic punching bag in both a figurative and literal sense).

Because Robin is never really one to deny a safe haven to someone, especially an orphan, in need.

And it’s not too hard to understand why.

It’s one quality you’ve only caught glimpses of, before the attempted invasion and one too many near-death experiences changed everything.

Your once positive opinion on lizards.

Your practical, humanly limitations regarding the ability to eat your weight in cold, cheese pizza.

Your mostly cynical take on all the possible wonders of this life.

Your team and their conduct—their outreach of friendship, their measure of trust and willing openness towards you.

Your place among them. Your.... the need for the permanence of those masks.

All while you’ve been learning to come to terms with this warm, slowly blossoming….strange feeling of finally belonging.

ZuZu shifts to find a different angle, and then they’re sliding their head further into your lap, situating themselves just underneath your hovering hand. Your sullen gaze darts down to examine them again in the cresting evening sunlight, their lithe body bathed in an orange light that softens the harsh lines and edges of bluish-green scales, until they’re all but glittering like some magnificent, stain-glass fish below rippling water.

Shit, they’re so wonderfully unique, maybe too much so, for a world that tears down all that’s different in the name of fear (and this you know all too well). They’re intelligent and hardheaded, and kind of an absolute dick if you’re being honest. But you can’t help but feel close to the little creature, and hope, however possibly (awfully) misguided, that it’s at least somewhat mutual. After all, for all their rough edges and guarded, worldly acceptance, they were learning to fit in here—just like you.

The flash of a long, forked tongue startles you from your thoughts, and you catch sight of it in your peripheral, snapping out towards the piece of half-eaten crust in your hand before you can even process where it’s suddenly emerged from. You jerk away clumsily on reflex, letting the crust plummet back to the plate in your lap as you lean to the side, trying to avoid the persistent little alien. You hoist the plate up and out of their reach at a safer distance—though not without a twinge of pain that bursts like fireworks in your shoulders.

You glare down at them in admonishment.

Well then.

Earlier sentiment revoked, actually.

ZuZu narrows their intensely bright eyes right back at you, their frill rising from their neck like the hackles of an angry dog. The trim pleats of skin folded there flutter in anticipation before finally sweeping open with the rippling, fluid grace of a hand-held folding fan. The pretty scales lining the exposed frill change colour almost instantly when they hit the open air, flaring a deep red when you stick your tongue out at ZuZu in an act of childish defiance.

Yeah, someone’s no longer a happy camper now, are they? Well, join the club, pal.

You can’t always get what you want. Because no matter what you do, life just likes to screw you in the—

It takes a total of three, distracted seconds.

The offending tongue snaps out at an impossible length to hit the surface of the plate. It’s like some cartoon frog catching a fly that’s far enough out of reach to be considered natural, the appendage wrapping around one end of the half-bitten crust, before proudly reeling it back down into a waiting mouth. Their jaw snaps shut again with an audible click of teeth, and they swallow their prize whole and much too slowly, flashing you a fanged smile that gives you the creeps.

Or you do, you find yourself bitterly amending in the wake of defeat, especially when you’re a terrifying space gremlin with freakish mouth biology. Why are you even awake again today?

You sag into the couch cushions with an unexpected wave of soul-weary tiredness, a full body and mind exhaustion creeping upon the fringes of your being, though you’d been fighting it off rather successfully for most of the month.

You lower the empty plate to sit on the surface of the coffee table—while grumbling under your breath about the reigning injustice of such snack-stealing gremlins in your midst—and lean even more precariously forward. Much farther than you normally would consider doing without others around, but you persist in you reach, getting a good grip on the propped up crutch you’ve left leaning against the table.

You struggle to your feet then, deciding to leave the main living room to find something more productive to do (rather than wallowing and getting your food pilfered from beneath your slowly healing, broken nose). ZuZu watches you silently from their cozy napping spot, gaze tracking you as you begin to hobble around the couch on your way from the room. You toss a half-hearted, parting wave to Starfire’s first adopted friend—a chunky, gooey, mutant moth larvae dubbed little Silkie, snoring away beneath an open side table near the couch.

It’s good going, until something unexpected flutters down from the ceiling with the grace of falling snow—just as you’re about to cross the threshold into the hallway. Your gaze follows the swirling path of the shiny, red and black length of foil as it lands near your feet. A candy wrapper.

Huh.

Strange.

You pause in your journey and peer down at it for a moment, bewildered enough to take a full step back before finally looking up to retrace its fallen path.

And okay, so in hind sight, you kind of wish you hadn’t left the couch.

A single, suspiciously green, bat drops like a stone from the ceiling once it’s seen, swooping down over your head with a panicked flutter of leathery wings. You shout and unashamedly curse like a drunken sailor, ducking in surprise to further avoid the little needle talons that brush across the top of your head. Beast Boy turns human once he clears your form and hits the floor, once again completely, frustratingly, naked when he hops up to his feet.

He tries to quickly console you, only to jump back in order to dodge the fear-driven swing of your crutch.

“Hey! It’s just me!!” He exclaims, hands held out towards you. You sling your cast over your eyes and wonder just how bad it would be if you bleached them clean of the searing, full-frontal image that lingers just behind them.

“WEAR PANTS.” You demand in alarm.

“They’re not comfortable!” He complains. Eyes still tightly shut, you shake your head and gesture wildly at him, throwing out your plaster covered arm to wave it around in loose, frantic circles. “PANTS!” You insist in a higher voice. “Fine!”

He mutters something else, low and displeased under his breath, and then goes to dig out a familiar non-descript bag you’re used to finding at random—usually full of extra clothes and stashed around the tower, or other frequent hangout places around the city—hidden away within the grassy, potted plant next to you both. You choose to ignore the obvious sass he’s exuding in protest, cracking open an eye just a bit to make sure he’s following through.

He smoothly tugs his purple and black uniform free from the depths of the shiny leaves, wrangling on the bottom half with a pout as quickly as he can, and before you know it, he’s already shrugging the fabric up over his narrow shoulders.

(Though to your satisfaction he’s careful of the stitches still lining his spine). You sigh in relief, “Just—oh my god, what were even you doing up there in the first place?!”

Beast Boy works his mouth in silence as though he can’t find the right words to explain at the moment, bottom canines glinting as he squints up through the fluorescent lights and tosses the empty bag to rest beside the plant. He seems to be thinking hard about his answer (you hope), his gaze dropping to you after a few seconds of awkward, disbelieving silence. He shrugs, apparently deciding it’s appropriate to simply respond with a pair of finger-guns and a strained grin. “....hanging around?”

…..

You think you’re starting to miss those dragon-tailed, sumo alien’s from space-hell.

Your shoulders slump as the pent up energy from your frustration and sudden scare seeps from your body all at once. You groan, lifting your crutch up to point at him, the tip barely brushing against his chest. “You’re dead to me.” You proclaim lightly. Beast Boy rolls his eyes, and after securing the clasp on the back of his suit with a small chuckle, reaches out to gently lower the makeshift weapon. “Oh, come on—”

You don’t wait for him to finish, moving to hobble around him and retreat to your room. You shouldn’t have gotten up today. Nope. Call it a bad feeling. Something is going on around here and you are getting the hell out while you can. He slides into your path immediately, cutting of your escape with a smooth glide across the hardwood flooring. You narrow your eyes, shuffling to move around him again. He meets you like before, lunging closer still with each attempt to counteract your movements. You huff and stare him down, feeling like a Spanish bull in the ring, ready to charge the moment you see an opening. “BB, move.” You warn lowly.

He throws out his arms to either side of him, blocking your way when you take a threatening step forward. “Can’t do that.” He chirps, puffing out his chest to seem more confident in his current position, while beginning to look as though he’s starting to regret his life’s choices, what with the way you’re gaze is cutting into his very soul. (Positively icy. You’d practiced that, rest in peace).

But he doesn’t move.

You frown and glare at him suspiciously, forcing your heavy limbs to cooperate with you for a moment. You take a step to the right, and as expected Beast Boy mirrors your movement, but your body isn’t as fast as you remember it. And he knows it. You careen to the left to try and complete your fake-out, but Beast Boy anticipates the slow sway of your body, following the uneven momentum like a puppet on strings to block your way yet again.

He reaches out to steady you when you wobble, legs shaking with the sudden quick strain on your knees, and you wince at the flair of pain. Crappy broken body. You shake him off angrily, more upset at yourself then at him, and strike your crutch against the floor with a wave of strength (propelled simply by the heated frustration you feel festering in your chest like icky, wriggling worms). “Beast Bo—Gar, I’m serious.” You hiss in annoyance, ignoring the ricocheting twinge of pain that shoots up into your shoulder at the action.

“Believe it or not, so am I!” He defends, hands flying to his hips.

“Debatable.” You snap back.

“Rude.”

“Twenty bucks on (Y/N).” A new, deeper voice declares with obvious amusement. You spin to face the living room again, Beast Boy peeking around you to get a better view. Cyborg and Starfire are standing before you, having appeared out of thin air and quiet as can be, the latter of the duo looking as though she could just burst with excitement. More than usual. Cyborg’s gaze cuts to you when he notices the way you’re staring at her in confusion, putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently to sooth the absurd tremble of her body.

Okay. Double suspicious.

They’re dressed in casual clothes; Starfire in high-waisted, purple shorts and a stylish pink sweater that hangs off her shoulders, her wild red hair tied back into a ponytail and her feet bare, smile wide. Cyborg is donned in sweatpants and an old blue and yellow football jersey you think might have seen better days once, newly buffered limbs gleaming under the lights. Beast Boy pursues his lips and squints up at his friend when he catches sight of the teasing smirk Cyborg trains on him.

“Thanks, dude.” He responds as sarcastically as he can. Starfire spins to face Cyborg with glee, hands clasped in front of her.

“Friend Victor, I too wish to attribute money to the outcome of this argument.” She reveals enthusiastically, leaving you to trade an exhausted look with Beast Boy at the spiraling situation. Cyborg’s grin grows larger, and he winks at you both before giving Starfire his undivided attention.

“Okay.” He relents, staring down at her curiously. “Bettin’ on (Y/N) then?”

Starfire pauses, nose crinkling as she considers the question. “Can I not take part of the betting for both?”

“No, Star, it doesn’t really—” Cyborg begins, sighing with reluctance when she only continues to look up at him expectantly. “You know what? Sure.” He amends with a shrug, rubbing at the back of his head. Starfire claps her hands excitedly and laughs, her feet lifting from the floor in her in a rush of elation.

“Glorious!” She exclaims. You almost miss it when Cyborg turns away from her, but you’re able to barely catch the sly way she throws a wink at you too, the quick gesture leaving you reeling in amusement.

Oh shit, what a hero.

You can definitely appreciate a good swindle win you see one. And that was great.

You slump against your crutch and chuckle tiredly, massaging your forehead with the tips of the fingers peeking stiffly from your cast, before raising your arm up to draw their attention.

“Alright, seriously, what’s going on with you guys today? Where’ve you all been? Some secret club within our secret club?” You question fervently, on a new mission as you hobble closer towards them. “I have to admit, I’m kind of offended if that’s the case.”

“Oh, you know, out.” Cyborg says much too casually and unhelpfully for your liking, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweats. Simultaneously, Starfire responds much too quickly.

“In my room!” She declares loudly, unable to stop herself from flinching at the sharp, wide-eyed look Cyborg cuts her. She mouths an apology at him and flashes you a sheepish smile, tapping the tips of her index fingers together.

Oh, something is definitely going on. Not on my watch, secret keepers of the crypt.

You squint at them, “Sure. I’ll believe that. But why do I suddenly have a five-foot-furry shadow? One who doesn’t seem to know the concept of the word shame?”

Beast Boy gasps as though he’s never been so insulted in his young life (okay, so you may have possibly taken it a little too far that time. But in your defense, there’s a lot of stressful things going on right now, and the bat thing may have thrown you a little too far over the edge), scurrying around you to passionately wave a random, uh, peace sign in front of your face.

Wait, what?

“Five-foot-two.” He stresses firmly, wiggling both fingers for emphasis. You lean your weight on the single crutch keeping you gloriously upright, reaching out to tug his hand down with a groan.

“So not the point, batboy.”

“Hey! Bats are cool!”

“Ha! You know what else is cool?” You question sarcastically, nestling your casted arm against your chest as you lean forward to regard him with an arched eyebrow. “Not scaring the living shit of a person who’s already legally died twice from heart failure.”

Beast Boy concedes to your logic with a grimace, no doubt fighting off a burst of vivid memory on the subject.

“Point taken.” He agrees.

Cyborg pads over to you with a muffled laugh, giving your upper back a hearty, friendly slap that propels you forward a few steps. “Aw, B.B.’s just doing his job. Lighten up, (Y/N/N).”

You stumble with a strangled sound and work to regain your balance yourself through burning muscles, gripping the handle and uprights of the crutch as tightly as you can. You always forget how strong he is. And sometimes, though not often, so does he. Cyborg winces, flexing his fingers while he graces you with an apologetic smile. You raise an eyebrow at him; eyes locked intently on his face, as though you could simply reach into his mind and know all with a simple blink, and subtly tilt your head towards Beast Boy.

"And that means I can't leave one single room?"

"It was more to keep you busy." Cyborg admits with a grin that makes you all too nervous.

Okay, red flag. Were you sweating? You might be sweating. They weren’t the…vengeful type, right? It’s not really your fault you tend to stress eat. Though….

"What are you all planning?" You ask again, unconsciously scanning the corners of room behind them for your two missing team members. Why do you feel like you’re about to be ambushed? Starfire hops forward like she’s stepping on air, looping her arm through yours and shaking it gently as she leans into you. Then she begins to drag you forward the smallest bit.

"Something wonderful!” She responds in that giddy way of hers, green eyes simmering with something impassioned and restless when they focus on your dumbfounded expression—fire brimming from her touch and her very being. She leans in closer and continues in a secretive whisper, which you think was meant to be soothing at some point between her thought process and strange execution. “But you must come to the roof to see it, my friend."

The….roof?

What’s so special about the fucking—

Oh.

….

Sonuvabitch.

To be completely honest, you knew it would somehow end like this. Betrayed by a moment of weakness and reduced to seething shame and broken trust, only to be real-life ghosted and then unceremoniously Mufasa-ed by your own team. A dramatic, imminent doom of Disney proportions. Ugh, what an embarrassing way to go. You really shouldn’t have gotten out of bed this morning like some normal, model citizen with an inane urge to contribute to society. What an idiot.

Still….maybe you’re just being a little over-dramatic here. Heroes usually have non-murdery morals, don’t they? Which is a big step up from your last group of…yeah….they weren’t even close to friends. Still, you can never be too careful these days. Right? Right.

You pull back from Starfire, trying to sound teasing as you respond, while barreling through your baseless internal panic and sprinkle of sugar-riddled guilt. How do you always get yourself into these messes?

"Is this the part where you throw me from the top? For finishing off the leftover cake without telling anyone?"

Beast Boy’s jaw drops.

"That was you?!"

Of course it was.

You laugh nervously and much too awkwardly to be convincing while you scramble to backtrack, "What?! Of course not!"

It was so good.

Starfire looks kind of horrified at your earlier insinuation about the roof, and she pulls away from you completely, eyes wide and unbelieving. She gasps, "We would never!"

Cyborg’s eyebrow shoots up as he studies your reaction. He frowns, lifting a hand to rub at his chin with an exaggerated sweep of his arm—as though he’s taking a moment to think more deeply about the matter—his metal fingers clunk-ing in the blanketing silence when they meet the thick, metal plate covering it. He sounds playful when he speaks up, and you know he’s not taking the news as hard as Gar currently is.

"Well, now you've given me a lot to think about." He says slowly, amusement thick in his voice and vibrantly pulsing beneath his already crumbling, disappointed façade.

You wonder when it was exactly—when you’d unconsciously began to find his eagerly outspoken and protective spirit, his overly intense and personal pride (in all manners of technological tinkering and projects), and awful, awful acting, somewhat endearing. Maybe it was around the same time you’d grown rather fond of Beast Boy’s organic simplicity with life or perfectly-timed wit, his endearing, steadfast spirit and dorky, down-to-earth charm (though you would deny any accusation that says otherwise, pretending to find his endless stream of puns nothing but annoying).

Or Starfire’s unfathomable warmth and, mostly smothering, overzealous passion in all things, no matter how small—a burning, extraterrestrial sun with a warrior’s soul and an open heart. Or Raven’s sarcastic calm and quiet disposition, a hopeful kind of darkness—as encompassing as it mystifying—which brings peace in ways one wouldn’t expect or think they needed.

Or Robin. Noble and kind, brooding, insufferably stubborn, Robin—with an annoying competitive streak that rivals even you. Your outwardly, fearless friend and leader, a little birdie who keeps you from slipping back into your cold, old ways while still wanting to be a part of something better. To be a Titan. Time and time again. And—

Ah, fuck. You’ve gotten so sappy lately.

Near death experiences are the worst.

You roll your eyes at Cyborg, regardless of that grating, growing itch of sentimentality crawling up from your chest and into your throat like a rock, all the while fighting down the upwards twitch your lips.

"Oh, shut up.” You mutter, ducking your head so he won’t see as you move to hobble past the group back into the centre of the living room. “Even though I'm at my weakest right now, it doesn't mean I won't fight you."

Cyborg drops his arm and laughs, "I don't doubt it."

Beast Boy ducks around him; sparing no time as he shrinks down to the form of a chattering, green squirrel. Without breaking stride, he dashes towards your slowing figure, leaping forward to scale the rungs of your crutch.

You jump at the sudden weight and list sideways, the vibration of his hurried ascent and the clattering of his nails against metal throwing you out of your concentrated state. You lean back too fast in surprise, catching the back of the couch with the underside of your cast to keep yourself somewhat upright, and wait with a raised brow as he moves to pull himself up onto the crutch pad at the top.

"Besides, you proved you’re anything but weak when you kicked Death’s ass! Multiple times.” He chirps proudly, settling back onto his little hind legs to stare up at you, bushy tail twitching and dark eyes round and glinting when they catch the light. “You're a survivor. Always have been.”

You grin, feeling satisfied that he finally seems to be more…relaxed about your injuries now (as opposed to the annoying, but much appreciated, panicked mother-henning you’d experienced throughout the first few weeks back on your feet). You have a sneaking suspicion Cyborg had a hand in this recent development—bless his beautiful, understanding soul—and you make a mental note to treat him to a pizza night soon. Or just hug him really, really tight in relief.

You heft your cast from the couch to hold out two fingers towards Beast Boy.

"And always will be." You agree. He reaches out with a shrill, happy squeak, tapping a front paw against them in a painfully adorable semblance of a high-five. Starfire joins you by the couch and lays her hand against your upper back, right between your shoulder blades, the swelling heat of it soothing the ache and strain of your poor muscles. Her gentle touch slides up, mindful of the bruises still splattered like patchwork across your skin, until you feel her lightly squeeze your shoulder.

"Very much like the warriors of old from my planet." She tells you softly, a smile pulling at her lips when your eyes dart up to look at her. It’s then you realize that all three of them are now looking at you rather expectantly, attention solely trained on your face as the room falls into an eager kind of silence. One that is quick to twist your abdomen into fluttering, nervous knots.

Right, you think with a start, there was something about the roof—something they wanted me to see. You hesitate (is it getting hot in here, or is that just you self-combusting?), gaze jumping to each of your friends in turn. They continue to stare you down with purpose, waiting for your consent to be dazzled and thoroughly surprised, before you catch the barest hint of movement in your peripheral vision. You glance down at the back of the couch, wanting to scream your frustration to the sky, when you take in the wide, furry face peering back up at you.

Oh, not you too, ZuZu. You traitor.

She locks those intelligent eyes on you. He glowing pink gaze is intent and reprimanding, and god, you’re actually—silently, awkwardly—getting told off by an adorable lizard-themed care bear, who hails from the far reaches of infinity and beyond the known galaxy. What has your life come too? And the worst part is you don’t think you’re strong enough to—oh, goddamit. Peer pressure is a bitch.

"Alright.” You relent with a groan, throwing ZuZu a pointed, disgruntled look (which she simply counters with a glowing pink frill and mischievous wink, a move that has you breathing deeply to avoid just chucking your crutch across the room in defiance of it all). You turn to gesture at the others, “Fine. Let's get this show on the road then."

Beast Boy leaps down from the top of the crutch before you’ve even finished talking, his tiny shape shifting into the much larger form of a tiger once he touches down (more gracefully than you’d expected him to). He gives a little throaty growl in excitement, circling in place to get his bearings. And then with a sudden focus that makes you laugh, he’s bounding in a rush to slink between Cyborg and Starfire—his gaze already intensely trained down the hallway that leads towards the elevator.

"Sweet! Now you’re talking!" He exclaims with a swish of his tail, pausing only for a moment to throw a look back at Cyborg, the familiar imitation of a fanged grin even more terrifying with larger, sharper teeth on display. "Dibs on the donuts!"

Uh, donuts??

Cyborg groans and scrubs a hand over his face, stepping forward with his other hand outstretched, as if he could keep his excited friend from moving with just sheer force of will. "No! You don't get to just—Gar!"

Starfire tilts her head and watches until Beast Boy disappears around the curve of the hallway, "You have to admire his will power up until this moment." She points out, reaching out to brush a soothing touch to Cyborg’s shoulder.

He gives her a solemn nod in agreement. "...true." "Hi, yeah, still confused." You slowly iterate, when it’s clear they’re going to say nothing more on the manner, and looking hilariously haunted, just stare out into the middle distance like some kind of dramatic dork-asses. You can’t help it though—you want answers. You’ve been officially intrigued (donuts are always a good sign and nothing will convince you otherwise) and that cat-damning curiosity in you can never be quieted for long, so help you.

“Are we still going to the roof?”

Cyborg is the first to shake himself to attention, and he swings around to look at you with a knowing grin that tells you’re probably about to regret opening your mouth again. Probably. You guess?

…..

Okay, so you might be already exhausted enough now, with all this moving about and floundering, moral turmoil, to deal with any mysterious roof meetings and their possible consequences—and there’s no truly hiding it, or just burying it away for future you to worry about come morning (damn, why is past you always such a dick?).

Which leaves you decidedly awash in a ‘My mind is an emotional dumpster fire and all I want is to hibernate for forty years’ kind of way, unable to completely distinguish the nuances of your feelings on anything happening within a 10 foot radius.

Especially since you’d….broken that quiet morning after the attack, finally reconciling with a screeching realization you’d been pushing back for years—even with all that damaged purpose, all that strength and determination and precious time you’d flooded into looking after yourself and only you, instead of worrying about others and how they might screw with you this time, you’d left yourself open anyway. Unwillingly, accidently, raw—like an exposed nerve adrift in the cosmos and crying out for relief.

Someone in power must have had mercy on you at last though, because you have friends. Good friends who are good people. And you love them in your own rough-around-the-edges way (is that the right word here? Love? You hope that’s the right word—it feels like the right word); but there’s no chance you’re ever going to tell any of them that. It’s become too embarrassing to even think about in your own mind, let alone out loud where they could actually...hear you.

But you’re not going to let all your personal baggage stop you now. Not while there’s the promise of donuts anyway.

Yeah, your priorities might need a little sorting out.

"Come on." Cyborg says, already treading backwards in the direction Beast Boy had gone. Starfire zips past you with ease, cutting around the corner like a fish would dart through deep water.

Her laugh echoes through the hall as she vanishes from sight, "Oh, this is going to be such a joyous occasion!"

Cyborg takes his time to snicker at the nervous grimace on your face. But you valiantly choose to be the bigger person here (no matter how much you want to knock your head against the nearest wall and see if your middle finger still works within the stiffness of a cast), simply rolling your eyes as you hobble to catch up to him around the bend in the hallway. He slows his pace without a word until you’re following closely at his side.

“So why aren’t we taking the elevator?” You inquire, watching as the thick metal doors slide past in your peripheral. It’s then you spot the other two loitering around by the door to the stairs.

The plot thickens.

Cyborg struggles to squash his playful grin, “Occupied.”

“By...”

“A second surprise. Now come on.” He diverts smoothly, waving his hand over the sensor for the door once Beast Boy and Starfire step away to make room for you both. It slides open from left to right with a mechanical hiss, and you peer in to the brightly lit stairwell with a raised brow. The glaring, white fluorescent lights are already giving you a headache.

“How do you expect me to get up the stairs?”

“Easy.”

“Oh, really? Easy? What are you even—”

The world shifts like a seesaw in your vision and you can barely comprehend the next few seconds: the way Cyborg stoops low enough to knock out the backs of your knees, the simultaneous rush of weightlessness—a fluttering, dizzying drop in your stomach that stalls the very breath in your chest—or even the jumbled burst of restrained laughter and disapproving click of a tongue which dissipates almost as soon as it starts.

And you tip backwards into his arms with flailing limbs and a startled yelp as you’re gently scooped up, hanging shocked and boneless until he swings you up to cling onto his back like some sort of panicked koala. Cyborg laughs more boisterously as you lose your crutch in the commotion, grip loosening in your surprise until it slips entirely from your hold and vanishes from reach, the telltale clattering of metal against ground echoing from somewhere off to the side.

“—goddammit, Vic!” You gasp when the world stands still again, sucking in air for your breathless lungs. “A little warning!”

He simply cups the back of your knees and holds your legs tightly over the ridged, triangular slab of metal casing his hips, slowly straightening to his full, giant height again. It gives you a moment to throw your arms around his neck for safety and squeeze with all your reprimanding might. Cyborg turns to look at you with a teasing smirk you’re all too familiar with, before stepping further into the doorway.

“Comfortable there, Grumpy?”

“You’re the worst.” You announce without any real bite, leaning back to scan the floor for your missing crutch. It doesn’t take you long to realize that Starfire has already rescued it, hugging the dented metal pole to her chest with a look of determination. She catches your relieved gaze over Cyborg’s shoulder and nods as if reassuring you that she’s got everything handled now, gently patting the cushioned padding at the top of the crutch.

And then her eyes eagerly snap to Cyborg.

You can’t see his face from your vantage point, but you think he’s relaying permission with the way he tilts his head towards the stairs. Both Starfire and Beast Boy rocket forward in any case, barely sidestepping around you in their race up the first flight of stairs. Cyborg follows them without hesitation, and you can hardly wait another moment once your little group hurriedly passes the third floor, before the mystery of the roof becomes too intriguing to avoid any longer.

“So...are Rob and Raven in on this too?” You carefully begin, speaking to no one in particular but hoping someone might answer you anyway. “Cause they've been more mysterious than usual.”

"Grumpy and observant. You know…you'd make a pretty awesome detective too—give Dick some healthy competition around here." Cyborg returns in an innocent manner, which you know for a fact is bullshit. So you lamely thump a fist against the point between the heavy, metal plating circling his neck before it tapers down into his chest, and grumble your displeasure.

"Annnd you're dodging my questions, big guy. Again."

Cyborg says nothing this time and simply uses the firm hold he has under your knees to toss you up a few inches, jostling you free from your comfortable koala cling as though he`s trying to readjust your position. Only you know that’s not what he intended at all—evidenced by the irritating way he starts to laugh while you groan at him and shimmy urgently at his back, trying to right yourself from the haphazard tilt you’d landed in.

"Ugh! I miss being able to walk up a flight of stairs like a normal person!" You whine, bonking your forehead against the smooth, climate-controlled casing covering the back of his head, the vibrations of his full-body laughter rattling straight through you.

Beast Boy goes still ahead of the group, front paw hovering above the next step up. That unsettling tiger grin as he turns to regard you is the only warning you get before the inevitable.

"Eh, I wouldn’t trust these stairs though,” Beast Boy drawls with terrifying purpose, “They always seem like they're…up to something."

Starfire pipes up from her place hovering beside you and Cyborg in perfect comedic timing, her eyes narrowed in contemplation.

"Well yes, up to the roof—oh...that was..."

Yeah, Kori. Damn.

He waits in the ensuing, hollow silence of the stairwell for a reaction, gaze expectantly darting from person to person until you don’t know whether to laugh or just get mad.

....both?

Alright, okay, here’s the thing.

Though you may have...secretly....begun to appreciate Garfield’s endless arsenal of jokes and puns as much as that next person (you’ve got a reputation to uphold after all), that....was not so good.

You’d face palm if you had complete confidence in your upper body strength as of late, but you definitely do not—especially after that embarrassingly sad attempt to escape to your room earlier (feat. the interference of your awkwardly unexpected, five foot-two bodyguard). And you’d very much like to keep securely clinging for your life atop mount ‘Victory’ Stone instead, rather than somehow (ridiculously) finding some way to slip from his back and fall to a more permanent death down the tower’s two-hundred stairway to hell.

So, you’ll just lock away this existential breakdown for another day and move on. Be the bigger person here, again.

....

Or.

"I think I'm starting to miss the coma." You deadpan with unabashed pettiness (because you’d actually had to listen to that with your own two ears), refusing to give him even the slightest satisfaction of a job well done.

Step up your game, Gar.

You can pinpoint the exact moment Cyborg winces with regret for his friend—his chin dipping down, the glowing blue machinery encasing half his skull whirring with a soft, discomforting humming like he’s finally reduced to just screaming on the inside.

"Oof,” He eventually adds through a long exhale. “I've heard better stuff from you, man."

Beast Boy sniffs in displeasure at your less than positive reactions, "Yo, give me a break; I'm still getting over the pizza thing."

You heft your body up straight to stare him dead in the eyes and lift your unbroken arm, wiggling your fingers over Cyborg’s head in a teasing way. "Let it haunt you for the rest of your daaaays~"

You don’t think you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing a hulking, green, murder cat roll its eyes so hard before. But there it is—in all its uncanny, cartoon-like glory. Beast Boy shakes his heavy head and resumes slinking up the stairs, leaving the rest of you to catch up while he throws another line over his shoulder, in a way you know is meant to be a playful declaration of war.

"Which reminds me...” He purrs slyly, “….what did the ghost say when it arrived at the party?"

Starfire taps at her chin in thought, "Ummm hello?”

Beast Boy’s enthusiasm swells with her genuine attempt, and he turns to coax his best friend into answering as well.

"Not quite. Come on, Cy, this is all you dude."

"Can I get a—"

"Victor don't you dare!"

Cyborg merely hums at your desperate interjection, "Uh-oh full name. That's never a good sign."

"Oh!” Starfire’s expression lights up in a way you’re entirely used to by now, and she leaves your side on the flutter of a giddy laugh, hovering quick up the next few steps. She smiles down at Beast Boy once she reaches him, titling her head as he looks up at her with an animated flick of his tail.

“I believe I know this one. May I?" She quietly gushes, twirling to lounge back gracefully in the air beside him. His head bobs once, long and slow, still flashing that sharp grin.

"Dazzle me, Star."

"Can I get the Boo-ya!!?"

"HA! Yeah, that’s wassup!"

You thunk your head against Cyborg’s shoulder this time, wincing at the brief pulse of pain from pounding metal against skull. "Oh my god, are we there yet?"

"As a matter of fact..." Cyborg mysteriously trails off, hopping up the last step to the top landing of the stairway. You peek up in interest and immediately want a better look when you see that the access to the roof is propped open the slightest bit, squishing your cheek against Cyborg’s as you lean forwards with the anticipation of it all. It’s easy to spot the flickering movement from just beyond the door—shadows moving fast from one end to the other. Is someone already there?

You suck in an anxious breath when Cyborg lowers himself to one knee and releases his hold on you, carefully helping you dismount from your cling, and Starfire is all too eager to return your crutch, pushing it into your arms and waving you forwards. Your friends let you nudge open the door then without another word, following you out as you bravely take your first few steps and—

…..

You think you might’ve blacked out for a moment in shock.

Beast Boy circles your legs as you silently take in the state of the roof, rubbing against them with a gentle brush of his body before he exclaims, "Surprise! Did we getcha??"

You blink a few times to get your bewildered mind working again. Because out of any possible scenario you could have—and did—invent within your imagination….it was nothing like…well, this.

The smell of hot food wafting through the summer-like air reaches you first, and you’re drawn to admire what is definitely Starfire's touch in your unexpected surprise.

There are two tables set up across the roof directly ahead, side by side and pushed flush against the lip of rectangular ledge boxing in the space. Each wooden surface is filled with cutlery, food and drinks in jade colored bowls and glasses, and adorned with fun, rainbow coloured table cloths—the cheap, plastic kind you’d find from a dollar store—and regal centre pieces among the clutter. These consist of wreaths with beaded jewel strings and alien metal shapes, forms that remind you of branded symbols you’d once glimpsed from the hilts of her homeworld weapons.

There’s a fancy new boom box sitting on the ledge, just to the left of the food tables. It’s silvery and shiny in the late evening light, akin to the small heap of patterned presents sitting below it, or the bouquets of metallic balloons weighed down by sandbags in each corner of the roof.

Cyborg’s own creative touch is more quiet, but still obvious in your racing mind, reflected in the large blue and white fairy lights the size of your fist, strings of them hooked beneath the ledge and spaced along the entire perimeter of the roof. They remind you of mini lava lamps—slowly swinging, each casing filled with swirling, pulsing energy, casting loops of light and shadow which dance across the sleek stone of the rooftop ground.

Your gaze finds four, dark green bean bag chairs next, moved from the game room to sit in a circle further down the left side of the roof. A neat, tent-like canopy, reminiscent of Raven’s more gothic looking style, is set up over them and affixed with steel piping, made of sheer dark sheets in purple, blue, and black—a cozy, magical lounging spot that makes you long for the calmness and dark that only sleep can bring.

You slowly turn to your right, noting that access to the elevator on the other side of the roof is surprisingly clear for once, the usual pile of rickety telescope gear stored away to make room for dancing. And through an odd urge to cast a look behind you, you easily catch sight of the cute, homemade banner dangling above the door you’ve just stepped through, green and bubblegum pink letters scrawled across a white strip of poster board: Party Like It’s Your Birthday!!

You recognize Beast Boy’s handwriting the moment your eyes trace the first few letters.

It takes you a moment, still staring out at the culmination of your surprise, to realize that it all clashes terribly, although you don't find yourself caring in the slightest. It’s beautiful and endearing and makes sense to you in every way that matters—and you wouldn't have it look any other way.

Huh…look at that.

You're actually getting a hang of this sappy feelings thing. "Uh, wh—I…what's all this for?" You finally manage to sputter out, once your friends go back to watching you with those barely contained grins and expectant gazes. Even Raven, already in the midst of final preparations, standing by that glorious canopy as she methodically smoothes out wrinkles in the overlapping fabric—both manually and magically—is smiling shyly at you over her shoulder. Her dark, purple-colored eyes are carefully mapping out every hitch in your expression.

Like the others, she’s dressed more casually than you’re used to seeing around the tower; ripped dark-washed skinny jeans with a cropped tee to match and clunky, black combat boots, a leather choker that looks uncomfortably tight around her neck. But the most unexpected difference has to be when you realize what she’s missing. Her signature, purple-blue cloak has been swapped for a hooded, bomber jacket—black with gold zippers and detailing, and one size too big. It’s so strange a sight that it’s actually….kind of weirding you out a little.

Starfire grasps the wrist of your cast and gently tugs you forward, guiding you further into the organized mayhem that was once the tower’s roof. "The happiest day of birth to you my friend!"

Oh. Oh.

Now this is awkward.

"It's my…birthday?" You ask dumbly. Beast boy’s tiny head, that of an adorably, fluffed up squirrel monkey this time, pops up from the depths of a bowl sitting on the first food table—like some knock-off whack-o-mole game (and wait a goddamn minute, when the hell did he even get there?). His little hands grip the lip of the bowl as he chatters through crunching pretzels.

"Duh! At least yeah, I think so…uh, right?"

You clasp a hand to your forehead when you remember the date and groan, "No, no, you’re right, I think it is. Crap, I feel like I lost an entire year."

Starfire’s whole body slumps at your reaction, floating down until her feet touch ground.

"You are unhappy." She concludes sadly.

Aw, cripes, why are you like this?

"NO! No, Kori, I'm happy!” You hurriedly reassure her, “I just....I haven't really celebrated it in a long time. I never had anyone to..."

They hear your unspoken implication clear enough and offer you sad, little smiles—varying degrees of empathy seeping through into their expressions. Empathy. And not pity. Not judgment. Just compassion from people who understand it all.

An alien princess far from home who embraces difference and is learning to choose a life for herself, a half-cybernetic football star who had to learn when to let go and walk a new path in life, a troubled half-demon not wanting to be defined by the past or her heritage, a metahuman menagerie of animals fighting the pull of loneliness while still finding strength in his friends, and an orphan circus boy turned vigilante—given not only a second chance to make a difference for others, but unwavering hope as well.

Your own Breakfast Club of heroes.

"Well now ‘ya have us." Beast Boy says with serious resolve you haven’t often seen when it comes to your loyal jokester, the others agreeing simultaneously as he bounds closer in small leaps from across the table. There’s a painful clenching in your chest at their sentiments, and although it feels like you’re on the verge of a heart attack, it’s a good kind of hurt that brings relief to your entire being.

Because thinking it is one thing, but hearing it out loud dregs more emotion to the surface than you ever thought you had—makes it all the more real. You swallow thickly and try to keep composed through another monumental shift in your perceptions.

"I know." You return softly. Starfire takes your hand and holds it firmly in hers, mindful of the strength in her grip.

"And you are indeed truly....happy?"

Well, that’s a heavy question.

You never truly belonged anywhere, in the past. Too unnatural for everyday civilians, too angry for heroes, too kind for villains. You never understood why no one could just let you be....something in the middle.

But now, you think you’re finally learning that happy is something you can be, even while half-existing in that kind of grey area. So you squeeze her hand in reassurance and take a page from Beast Boy’s book—you attempt to lighten the mood.

"I will be once we get this party started." You tease, pulling away to turn on the boom box and click through stations in search of something party worthy. With that, the others move to disperse; Starfire and the boys already picking through the food tables with interest, while Raven briefly ducks beneath one to retrieve an opaque, plastic storage tote.

It’s blue and more than decently sized in her arms, but she carries it easily and without a word to the bean bag canopy, sitting (legs crossed and back perfectly straight) to methodically sift through its contents.

Starfire waves you towards the food tables once you settle on a popular radio station known for their mix of genres and artists—a little something for everyone hopefully.

"Come then, you must partake in some of this delicious food. I tried earth recipes." She proudly tells you, scooping up some sort of rice dish to wave under your nose as though hoping to entice you further. It smells pleasant, of grilled vegetables and egg, but all your attention has latched onto a single word that equally intrigues as it concerns you.

“Tried.” You echo, leaning to balance on your crutch and free up your unbroken arm. You press a single finger against the rim of the dish in her hands, lowering it down and away from your face. Starfire looks a little sheepish as she curls an arm around the ceramic, rounded dish and fits it into the crook of her elbow to rest, lifting her own newly freed arm to sweep a lock of hair behind her ear. A nervous tick.

She hugs the dish even closer, “There were…the incidents.”

“Nothing you couldn’t handle.” Raven adds from afar. Starfire leans around you to beam at her welcome encouragement; seeming as though she’s already seconds away from just fly-tackling her into a vice-like hug—a very Starfire act of affection.

Which you should probably redirect now, if you want to keep that beautiful canopy standing.

"Everything smells great, Star. Thank you. In fact..." You select a spoon from the first table and a tiny serving plate, before gesturing in silent question to the dish still in her arms. She’s ecstatic at your offer, extending it to you at once with bright, shining eyes. You carefully ladle out a few spoonfuls of the rice mixture, and with a playful cheers and raise of your spoon, you taste your first dish of the evening.

"Oh shit, that's good." You groan in surprise.

"Oh wonderful, I knew you would enjoy it!"

Beast Boy whoops eagerly from the centre of the second table, crouching among a spread of simple desserts. "Wicked! I call the donuts next!"

Cyborg anticipates his movement before you can, firmly squashing a hand against Beast Boy’s monkey head to keep him from leaping towards an open tray. Beast Boy whines openly at the injustice.

"Dude, come on, be cool!"

Ah, now that makes sense.

Starfire sighs and returns the tasty rice dish to its rightful place, hesitating only to shoot you an apologetic look as she steps towards the commotion. But you just smile in understanding, gesturing for her to go on and deal with the boys before they decimate all of her hard work.

And now it’s probably a good idea to clear the blast zone.

You make a rather slow beeline for the front entrance of the canopy, lowering your body down to sit in the place Raven silently offers you by shifting pointedly to the side—content to be off your feet for a moment. Raven picks up on your underlying curiosity though, the second you glance at the box still under her scrutiny, her gaze cutting up to regard you with the slightest touch of amusement.

You observe the way she tips her head, a pulse of darkened magic lighting up around the mysterious container, and it slides in a short burst to rest in front of you.

Well, well, what do we have here?

You peer down into the depths and react too late to stifle your gasp.

It’s filled with boxes of classic party games and entertainment, stacked upon each other in neat little towers along the inside: video game cartridges and two portable games devices, a deck of cards, Connect Four, Cluedo, and yep….that's definitely Twister, oh my fuck (you may be a little over excited for this. Which is strange for you...considering you can't even remember the last time you've ever so passionately, deeply, viscerally, wanted to roll out a stupid, colorful tarp and contort your body into unhealthy positions), a wooden board and an accompanying game-piece tin for Checkers, Pictionary, Monopoly, Jenga, Uno, the Game of Life (aaaannd too real with this one actually, might be avoiding that), Guess Who?, Snakes and Ladders, as well as games you hadn't seen since your earlier days of childhood—Rock 'em Sock 'em Robots and Hungry Hungry Hippos (meaning your small child self is living right now).

Only one person knew about this, knew about your stupid birthday-candle wishes from the short, hopeful part of your childhood that's since been eradicated by harsh realities; the longing desperation to make any kind of worthwhile connection, to know love or be wanted outside of a means to a quick pay-day.

To swing with others at a crowded park, to play games and join clubs, or have a sleepover with greasy food and late night truths—to be free (and you blame this emotional vomit entirely on exhausted, blabbermouth you, spilling your guts in a tired stupor while sharing stove-top hot chocolate in the kitchen at 3 a.m. Feeling vulnerable when he'd quietly shared his own frustrations with the role of leader and recent disconnect with his father, letting you lament in return about never getting the chance to just…be a normal kid. Something he understood. Something he remembered).

Oh, Dick Grayson.

You are the best of us.

You shake your head clear of any vivid memories, reaching in to unearth the Twister box and hold it up to admire its magnificence in the rapidly fading light. "So.” You start in what you hope is a casual enough tone, exchanging the box for another to seem busy. “You put all of this together, huh?"

She shrugs, "We figured you could use some...fun. After everything that's happened."

You grin and fish out an exceptionally old classic next, pointing the vibrant box of colourful, caricature hippos at her. "I didn't think this was your kind of fun, Rae."

"It's not.” Raven admits bluntly, floating the game from your hands despite your protest and back into the storage container with a challenging raise of her brow. “But I can enjoy the value in it. And in spending time with my friends."

(You don’t do enough of that. Why don’t you do enough of that?)

"Pfft are you going soft on us?" You say, weakly avoiding eye contact while wrestling away the any more intrusive thoughts and stabs of related guilt.

You watch her fight the beginnings of a smirk, "I could ask you the same question."

"Oh man, that's disgusting even for you B.B!" Cyborg grouses suddenly in the distance, and you’ve never felt so relieved for a distraction in your young life. Your friend is standing in front of the farthest food table when you look over, his hands on his hips and a frown of disapproval trained on something among the mass of dishes and delicious smelling cuisine.

You find out why when you follow his line of sight, your body and gaze lifting a tad to seek out what’s happened—and you can’t say you’re all too surprised with this inevitable development.

Beast Boy is laying, dramatically draped, across the tray of donuts he’d been denied earlier, monkey toes wriggling to dispel powdered sugar from between them.

"Let me live my life, man." He jokes between fistfuls of sweet pastry. Cyborg makes a grab for him in retaliation and he jerks back out of reach as if fully expecting this outcome, throwing himself to the side in a graceful dodge.

"Halt! Oh please do watch out for the—"

In his flurry of movement—kicking out his legs for momentum and rolling head over feet to a neat stop a few feet further down the table—Beast Boy accidently whacks the side of another bowl near the edge, the dish teetering dangerously on the precipice of destruction.

But Starfire is always quick on her feet. She lunges for the bowl and makes the catch before it can fall victim to the laws of gravity (those you’re already painfully aware of), cradling it safely in her arms and sighing in relief as she cordially lifts it in your direction.

"Do not fear! I have saved the mac of the cheese!"

"Though it has its moments." Raven deadpans, flipping up her hood with a shake of her head.

"Speaking of moments…is this a good time for a dramatic entrance?"

Starfire whirls around unearthly fast at the familiar voice, the echo spiking through the low, near constant beat and rhythm drifting from the speakers of the boom box—none of you having heard a door open or close, or even a single footfall drop onto the roof.

"Robin! You have made it!"

Alright.

You know he’s practically a ninja (because it’s what he’s been dutifully trained to do), but you still think this deserves a hearty what the hell anyway.

How long has he even been standing there?

Though before you can reflect too deeply on the matter, you find yourself bearing witness to Robin’s handling of the fly-tackle hug. To his credit, he takes the sudden, colliding weight like a champ; a short laugh ripped from him at the initial breath-stealing thump, and he stumbles back to restore his balance without falling on his ass.

You can tell that he’s definitely a pro at this by now.

He gives her a generous, friendly squeeze before they part, turning his attention back to the rest of his team. It’s then you fully take in how he’s dressed; slim-fitting jeans, a dark blue tee, a solid, gray flannel shirt over top—unbuttoned and left hanging open, long sleeves rolled up at to his elbows—and red converse.

His knee is still in a brace, a black watch with a stiff Kevlar strap fastened around his left wrist, its face square and rimmed with silver. And from your place you can even study the state of his dark hair—soft and without gel, but noticeably mussed like he’s been running his fingers through it all day.

"There's our fearless leader!” You warmly call out, letting Raven ease you helpfully to your feet so that you can welcome your newly arrived team member. You lightly bump your cast against his shoulder once you reach him, and then again just to be annoying when he nudges your arm away the first time (but not without a fond roll of his eyes).

With less distance your gaze finds thin, pink marks left like badges on his skin, the stitches having already healed and dissolved from under his chin and across his collarbone, his blue eyes a little hazy in their focus.

All in all, he looks tired up this close, in small ways you might overlook in passing—his grin beginning to wilt just at the upper corners of his lips, dropping eyelids and subtle bruising under his eyes, and the barest smudges of oil left neglected on his person; freckle-like specks across his jaw, staining the toes of his converse and the collar of his t-shirt (that particular one looking especially dark and ingrained into the fabric, like he’d hastily blotted at the spot in a rush and then gave up half-way through)—though you wouldn’t guess it from his posture.

He’s all squared shoulders, a confident lift of his head and a soft, delighted glint in his eyes despite the heaviness you’d noticed before. He’s proud even in the face of exhaustion, so you elect not to bring any attention to it.

“I was beginning to think Batman whisked you off back home for some clown-punching and father-son bonding." You continue impishly, mimicking his mentor’s cowl by placing an index finger on either side of your head. You bounce them up and down in a tease.

"No, that was last month.” Robin reminds you dryly, pressing his lips together to keep from smiling. He jabs a thumb over his shoulder at the open elevator door he’d obviously emerged from. “I was actually just finishing up some final touches on an old friend of yours."

Huh. O…kay?

"Ominous." Cyborg offers before you can voice your own confusion, settling back against a food table with a deviously knowing smile.

Best Boy huffs with palpable disappointment instead, climbing swiftly onto the ledge behind his friend. He scuttles around a portion of the roof to sit beside the thumping boom box, while still taking time to throw out his own affirmation on the matter, before shifting back into his human form and swinging his dangling legs to the beat of the current song.

"Yeah, way creepy, dude."

Robin frowns, “I was being mysterious!”

Cyborg seems to be enjoying this immensely for some reason, leaning forward and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, don’t.”

“Damn. Don’t hold anything back.”

“Do not worry, Robin.” Starfire remarks with a pat to his shoulder, “I still find you the mysterious.”

You try to stifle your sputtering laughter as Robin sighs in defeat, reaching up to touch her hand in wordless thanks. He motions for you to stay where you are then, swiping his finger across the face of his watch. It lights up blue like a touch screen, and something large and humming (a machine?) darts from the inside of the elevator.

The futuristic motorcycle that slides to a near-silent stop in front of you is like something right out of Tron. There’s a high leather seat and bullet-proof windshield among sleek, rounded black metal and glowing, magnetic green lights. They detail the length of the body like racing stripes, circling around the headlights and up into the shape of a triangle above them, as well as lining the inside rims of its large, treaded wheels (two in front and one in the back). The padded, silver handles poke through the front casing like devil horns.

It’s a familiar, wrenching image—one you could only dream of seeing again after the brutal attack on Jump City.

"Lucy!” You burst out instantly, and much to the Robin’s immense enjoyment, hopping forward in your excitement to reach your beloved cycle. You trace your fingers over the glowing triangle, pressing your palm to the leather seat with stinging, blurry eyes. It feels warm. Alive. “Oh my crap, you resurrected my bike!"

Cyborg gently pats the cycle with pride, "Rob and I spent weeks trying to fix her up. Finally got all the parts working again."

"You—this is—holy shit."

"Glad you like it."

Robin throws an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his side, pretending not notice your muffled sniffling like a super-star best friend. "Happy birthday, (Y/N)." He mutters, loosening the fancy watch so he can clasp it around your unbroken wrist in a nimble flourish.

Cyborg pumps his fist in the air when you choke out a disbelieving laugh, victoriously striding to the centre of the roof to proclaim:

"Well, what are we standing around here for? Let's get this thing started!"

“Oh yes, let us start the celebration my friends!”

“Eh, sure.”

"Party people!" Beast Boy cries out in agreement, finally leaping down from the ledge.

"Alright, Alright. You don't have to tell me twice." Robin chuckles, gesturing for the others to go ahead with the festivities. He stays to hover around you though, and is suspiciously quiet at first, simply stepping around you and your newly built cycle to pluck a can of soda from a food table. He idly brushes away condensation with a broad swipe of his thumb, waiting for the others to further disband around you both.

When the coast is clear, evident by the way he glances from side to side, he turns towards you with his head down, popping the tab on the can and taking a heavy gulp. You raise a brow and wait, more than aware of his tendency by now to try and constantly torture you with the value of patience. He purses his lips in thought, before he finally meets your gaze with a playful twist to his usual smirk.

“So, hey.” He begins somewhat offhandedly, drumming his fingers across the surface of the table, “We should take a team picture at some point. All of us. Like a…memory of tonight’s occasion—if you want.”

You shouldn’t make it this easy for him—because he’ll never stop teasing you about how quickly you caved—but you find that you truly do like the idea. He just doesn’t need to know how much at the moment. So you settle on feigning tired reluctance, hoping (fooslishly) that he doesn’t see right through you.

“It wouldn’t hurt, I guess.”

“You guess?”

….

It’s really annoying when he does that.

You pout at the light amusement in his tone and follow his earlier path to the table, seizing a donut in a moment of pure impulse from the tray Beast Boy had previously vacated. You feel satisfied when you notice that it’s one of the unfortunate monkey feet ones, and then thrust it into Robin’s free hand.

He must have been around long enough to see the offense for himself, because his nose crinkles in distaste when he registers what you’ve given him, letting the tainted pastry dangle from two fingers.

Sweet revenge.

You dole out smirk of your own.

“Eat your donut, dick.”

*****************************************************************

It’s well into the evening, sunset colours already fading calmly from the sky, when Robin parks himself next to you on the ledge of the roof, smoothly swinging his legs over and dropping to sit with a long sigh of relief. Huh…it seems like someone definitely had a longer day today than they let on.

And honestly? Mood.

You tap him with the rounded bottom of the crutch lying across your lap, throwing him a cursory glance and a smile in greeting. But he doesn’t respond the way you expect him to, no. Instead, you’re surprised to see that rare, relaxed grin of his already peeking through all of the obvious exhaustion.

"What are you smiling about, Grayson? You're creeping me out." You muse gently, brow arching at the amusement that grows all the more in the curl of his smile. It’s like he’s proudly uncovered some great secret in the time it took you to voice your thoughts, and is now going to make you work for a satisfying answer. Which, you have to admit, isn’t a very unusual outcome when it comes to your friend and his bat-crazy mentor.

Heh.

Gar would love that one.

"Oh, you know…nothing too important.” Robin counters with a non-committal shrug of his shoulder.

Uhhh, yeah, that’s not comforting in the slightest, you decide.

You narrow your eyes at him and poke at his upper arm accusingly, “You’re never really this terrible of a liar usually.”

“Well, usually isn’t now.”

You pause to let his utter nonsense sink in.

“Are all detectives this uselessly cryptic or is this just a you thing?”

“I think it’s a family thing actually.”

“That I believe.” You laugh, gripping tight to the edge of the concrete ledge with one hand as you lean forward to admire the twinkling darkness of the water far below—a beautiful, convoluted gloom in the beginnings of silver moonlight. You catch his lingering stare in your peripheral when you shift, an odd amount of softness there you’re not exactly used to seeing directed your way.

“What?” You ask again in exasperation (and maybe a tad more overly sharp than you wanted). He only winks when you turn to get a better read on him, and looking much too smug and unconcerned, tips his head back to study the distant, firefly-like pinpricks of light just now glittering through the encroaching dark above you.

There’s a blissful beat of silence between the continuously wafting smells (of heavy spices and cheese and the lingering sweetness of fancy chocolate) and the nearby ambient sounds of your friends locked in an intense game of Jenga (their laughter and conversation—Raven is definitely on a roll by the sounds of it—the clinking of cutlery and plates, and the low, near-constant pop music blanketed beneath it all), and then—

“Welcome home.” He says quietly.

You stare at him a moment longer; hesitant, flustered, warm—like some kind of utter punch-drunk goober—until your gaze slips mercifully back to the sky, drawn in by the trembling might of the stars far out of reach.

And you let the moment sit within the unexpected, peaceful calm his voice brings, unbroken without a sarcastic quip or cynical remark, just this once. A moment to find value in.

Because this is your family, or….what you’d always imagined one to be.

So, even though you’d never truly been privy to a lot of happiness before this—this tiny, momentous moment right where you need to be; sitting on the roof ledge of your home—you find your own sense of peace in thinking that here and now, if there ever was a happy place in this life for you—

This is it.

475 notes · View notes

eye-raq · 6 years

Text

Daddy’s Home Pt.1: The Pull UP

Okay so ya’ll gonna trip off of this one HERE. Thanks to my girl @hdkween I had to do it man i had to!!!!!!

Summary: Erik serves seven years of his ten year sentence, getting out on good behavior to finally teach his girl who left him almost four years ago a lesson (A NASTY LESSON) *tehee*

WARNINGS: SMUT (18+) This is long, and nasty, and just badddd yall. If I haven’t tagged you please let my ass know because everytime i make a tag list i loose it lmao!

Mariposa County Jail.

That’s where she visited now. From her understanding, it was very strict. She got a further warning from her good friend Brianna, who had an ex-boyfriend there that she visited often.

“Girlllll, I'm just gonna warn you now, you can forget all the treats you could sneak in at the other jail, and paying off some of those crooked officers to fuck in the bathroom, NOPE. No bending the rules or you’ll be staying there too.”

Upon arrival there, Callie couldn’t even park and leave her 2015 Infiniti Q50 without some correctional officers approaching her vehicle to check it. She clutched her Pink tote bag, an attitude etched within her pretty brown features as she watched them attack her car, never missing an inch of space. After about ten minutes, they finally lifted from her vehicle, turning to escort her into the Institution.

It seemed they really wanted to be cautious, because now Callie had to go through a metal detector, also having to send her bag down the conveyor belt to get checked by a women correctional officer. Callie was used to this part, having to be searched before she entered, but not as extensive as her car.

She even received instructions before coming here to not wear similar colors that resemble that of the inmates. They wore blue from head to toe, so she wore an all black Pink tracksuit with her curly hair up in a simple top knot bun. After going through check out, Callie had to sign some forms, handing over her ID, stating her name, and date of birth.

“Callie Demetria Carter, 4/4/90.”

“Visiting?” The boring officer asked, his eyes never leaving the papers in front of him, the balding patch of thin hair on his pale head giving her a view she would normally laugh at if it wasn’t for her already overgrowing irritation.

“Erik Stevens.” Erik Stevens, graduate at MIT who took on the job as a hacker instead of an engineer.

At that the officer went to pull out a stack of visitors lists, finally finding Erik’s, scanning to see. Callie had always been curious to know who else visited Erik, her eyes staring through the thick panel of glass, squinting them to make out more than one name scribbled there.

“Alright, let's go. Leave all personal belongings here, and follow these few officers through that door to the phone room.”

Callie never had to visit Erik in a phone room. She always came to see him at the other institution in a wide open room where all inmates came to see their visitors whether it be friends, family, or even enemies. Callie tried to block out the image of the one visitor who sat next to her, the prisoner stabbing their neck repeatedly, before doing the same to themselves. Callie had nightmares about that for nearly a two months.

Finally lifting from the chair, Callie walked empty-handed as she allowed the slow swinging doors to close. It was a long dimly lit hallway, the sounds of her vans walking across the shiny hardwood flooring that had the smell of pine sol wafting from it. She gripped the zipper of her tracksuit hoodie tightly, her expression hardened.

Callie avoided her last visit to see Erik for reasons she didn’t want to bring up. She supposed Erik needed time to adjust here as well because he had transferred to this Institution for his own safety. Erik literally owned the last prison he stayed in called San Quentin State Prison. Erik had the warden and the correctional officers eating out the palm of his hand, he even had his own cell in a secluded area of the prison from the other inmates. That alone earned a lot of hate and jealousy towards him.

Callie remembers visiting Erik in the earlier stages of his arrest, face bruised purple and red from fighting, he even walked out with his orange jumpsuit undone, a bandage on his broad chest from an attempt stabbing in the courtyard:

“E! What the fuck?!” Callie wanted to cry.

“Aye! I told you, I got this. Don’t go wasting your tears on me. You got the weed right?” Callie’s somber expression turned to that of annoyance as she pulled out the plastic bag full of kush, his special kush that he smoked in jail to keep him level headed, especially if he planned on getting out on good behavior.

“Thanks, baby, you like my little Bonnie, always holding me down.”

Callie’s attention was brought back to the present as the doors to the phone room opened, revealing a long stainless steel counter sealed off by a thick pane of glass separated by a wall between each visiting area, a rusty black phone for the visitor and the prisoner to use, and hard plastic chairs. From the way this was set up, there would be no more weed for Erik and no more quick sex sessions. Callie finally takes her seat at the instructed area, pulling her chair close and pressing her elbows firm on the counter in front of her. As if on cue, the correctional officer on the other side of the glass opened the door, a buzz sounding out as awe transformed her face.

There, standing at 6’3 220 lbs with little beady beads in his hair, unkempt facial hair, and crisp blue pants with a matching top was Erik himself. Callie felt a blush creep up her face, all of the memories with this man flooding her brain again, giving the wicked imagery that she wasn’t prepared for. Adjusting herself in her seat, Callie clears her throat, trying her best to stare into the eyes of her incarcerated boyfriend, clear resentment festering within him. Callie couldn’t lie, she felt fear in her belly, even through the thick glass. Erik kicks back the chair, settling with a loud thump of the chains around his wrists, body slouched and eyes cold with fury. Callie took a chance to look around her, nerves a damn wreck before picking up the dirty phone, bringing it to her ear slowly. She motioned with a lift of her chin for Erik to pick up his phone, watching him snatch it up with so much aggression, fear churned in her stomach.

Callie could hear him breathing, his chest from what she could see rapidly moving as if he were suffocating on his rage.

“Hi E, how you been baby?” Callie licked at her dry lips. She waited for him to respond for what felt like a minute, the fingers on his right hand tapping at the counter deathly slow.

“I heard some things.” That's all he had to say to her, no hi princess, no wassup baby girl, no you miss me, just THAT. Callie felt disrespected, the number of times she would visit his ungrateful ass, and that’s all he had to say.

“Oh? So no hi how are you? No hey baby girl, wassup love, nothing?” She grimaced.

“Are you gonna confirm what I heard?” he gave her a dirty look with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I’ll entertain your rude ass since that’s what you clearly want me to do.” Callie seemed to have forgotten how aggravating her boyfriend could be.

“Word on the street is, my girl entertaining some other nigga.” Callie’s expression closed up, her fingers fidgeting while her eyes landed on a vein popping out the side of his neck.

“Wassup? You can’t speak?” Erik whispers with rage, his jaw tight and eyes bloodshot. He leans closer, his face almost pressing against the glass.

“It ain’t even like that.” She felt small. Callie felt like everyone in that room could hear what was going on.

“It ain’t even like that huh?! From my understanding, you let this nigga into my place, fucked this nigga in my bed?” He laughs.

“Erik chill out. I came all this way to see you.” She started to feel her anger stab at her brain.

“I’m finna break this MOTHERFUCKING glass.” Erik brings a single finger to the glass, stabbing it.

“I’m growing hella tired of the games Callie. You wanna stop with all that playing and tell me what’s really going on?” Callie’s leg fidgeted under the table, her eyes closed. She was afraid to even tell him anything from the reaction she was receiving right now.

“Fine! I met someone.” Callie nibbles on her fingers, her eyes wavering. He just sat there, immobilized with fury, his eyes deranged and a look as if he’d been slapped.

“You wanna run that shit by me again?!” The spit from his mouth hit the glass.

“I-I met a guy, his name is Lamont. We hung out a few times, and I invited him over. We kissed and he felt me up a little but that’s it! That’s all I didn’t let him hit I sware on my life!” Callie fucked up, she knew she fucked up. Erik had friends in AND out of jail. Callie briefly wondered besides his lawyer, were there others who would report things to him? She felt stupid.

“You stupid or what? You really thought you could fuck with another nigga while I was away? Especially since you’re MINES. What you thought I wasn’t gonna find out? I can’t believe your little simple ass.” He could taste the blood on his tongue from his rage. Erik pounded his fist on the counter, causing one of the correctional officers to approach behind him.

Callie rubbed angrily at her face, tears that she didn’t want nor needed, falling. She put up with Erik’s jailbird ass long enough, four years in jail to be exact. Callie had a lot going for herself, a college degree in Health Science, a great job with benefits and a salary wage, she wanted to feel guilty, but why should she? Erik landed himself in jail for credit fraud on multiple counts for some stupid job she warned him not to take, now he was serving seven to ten years behind bars.

“Fuck this, I don’t feel sorry about shit,” Callie yells, her limbs shaking.

“So you don’t feel sorry for getting with some clown while I’m in jail!!!?” Erik yells back into the phone.

“No, I don’t E. I feel like I deserve more than this arrangement we have going on.” Callie could see the hurt in his eyes, his nostrils flaring.

“What this punk nigga got that I don’t have?!” Erik smirks deviously then, his eyes low and predatory.

“Freedom.” Callie couldn’t believe she just said that.

“What a FUCKING SHAME. That’s all? Just freedom?”

“Freedom is better than dick Erik. Dick that you can’t sling behind bars.” Callie was on a roll. Did she know that from her words, she dug a deeper hole with Erik, but so? What could he do right? He was away for seven to ten years, by the time he got out she could be somewhere overseas living it up.

“You feel real tough on the other side of that glass. I’m giving you this one fucking warning Callie, DROP THAT NIGGA. Don’t look at him, don’t speak to him, don’t even breathe the same air as him.” with every word he spoke, he poked the glass so hard it shook.

“Erik, I’m tired of this shit. I’m sick of you trying to control me, I’m sick of coming up here with the same damn routine to see your sour ass, I’m TIRED! I’m fucking tired E.” Her eyes almost left her sockets as she spoke the words she’d been feeling for a while. Callie didn’t deserve this kind of lifestyle because of his mistakes.

“So WHAT?! You fucking leaving me?! What kind of girl of mines you supposed to be if you leaving me HUH?! Gon’ fucking dip out on me after all the shit I did for your ass. If the tables were turned you think I would do you dirty like this?! I can tell you now I WOULDN’T.” His voice was at its highest peak now, so deep and thunderous it earned the attention of practically everyone in that room.

“You are embarrassing right now! Calm your big ass down! You want the whole world to know our business?!!.” Callie scoots her seat back, lifting from her chair.

“Who the FUCK told you to exit! Were not fucking done Callie! I swear on EVERYTHING.”

“What?! Last time I checked I’m over here and YOUR over there!” Callie rolls her eyes at him, turning to leave with a middle finger to the sky.

Erik stands from his chair frantically, causing it to fall to the floor loudly. He snarls, nodding his head, pointing a warning finger to her retreating back as the officers lead her away.

“I’ll see you and that bitch ass NIGGA on the outside bruh!!!!!!” He felt the firm grip of the officers on his arms, causing him to laugh.

“Ain’t shit going on with me I’m GOOD.” Erik shakes them off. All he could see was her walking down that hallway, not even a backward glance.

“IT’S COOL BABY GIRL KEEP THAT SAME ENERGY WHEN I GET OUT!” Erik rubs at his nose, blinking his eyes rapidly while his fists clenched.

“Go ahead and bounce then Callie since you leaving.” He could feel his chains being pulled, his hurt face turning away from her blurred body as the officers lead him back to his shared cell.

Present Day: January 2019.

“Hey, Stevens!”

There were about four correctional officers headed towards his cell, the one leading the way going by the name of Johnson. All of them were big and intimidating, but none compared to Erik himself.

Standing at 6’3 246 lbs of thick muscle, body littered in tiny raised scars that represented each day he resided behind bars, skin a deep almond, hair in wild dreads that sat atop his head with a sharp temp-fade around the sides, bringing in the strong features that consisted of a broad nose, sharp brown eyes, wide lips that drew back into a snarl from the pull-ups he was currently doing, dark messy eyebrows, and teeth littered in gold.

“It’s showtime! Grab your stuff, were escorting you out.”

Erik drops down with a loud thud of his faded Timberlands against the smooth concrete of his cell, waking up his cellmate, causing him to groan. Erik gives Johnson a once over with his eyes, and a wicked smile before adjusting the drawstring to his pants, the fabric almost slipping from his waist to pool around his feet.

“It’s that time already Johnson? I thought my good behavior release didn’t start till next week on Wednesday?” Erik turns his chiseled back on Johnson and the others standing on the other side of his cell bars, walking over to his untidy bed, grabbing up the duffle he had already packed with some gear he definitely couldn’t fit anymore, throwing it over his shoulder.

“Where’s your shirt?” Johnson asked with annoyance.

“What’s the weather?” Erik looked up at the tiny window on the ceiling, the sun peeking through, staining his scared shoulders.

“It’s about 75 degrees.” Erik scuffs, pulling out a white long sleeve henley, throwing it on quick before walking up to the gate. Johnson begins to unlock it, Erik’s heart practically banging against his solid chest from how relieved he was to finally leave that shit hole. He served seven years of his sentence, SEVEN. He knew his lawyer would look out for him, the sexy bitch finally getting what she always wanted. The day Erik found out about his good behavior leave, his lawyer by the name of Marcia Grey requested to see him in private. Erik confused out of his mind showed up within that room to find Marcia in a tight nude bodycon skirt, with her white blouse undone giving him a full on view of her ample cleavage that begged to fall into his mouth. How many years has it been? Three years and eleven months since he had pussy? That’s about 1452 days. When he and Callie were together, they always had an arrangement of sex the four years before that, but since she called things off, Erik was left to beating his meat in hopes that the other prisoners couldn’t hear him.

Marcia made her intentions clear with Erik, that she wanted to fuck him in return for getting him his good behavior release. Erik didn’t have to be told twice, he lifted her up by the back of her thighs and fucked her a good two times, getting his nut in on that hard ass table. That was at least three months ago, now he really needed it craved it, and the only person to deliver that was Callie herself.

Callie Demetria Carter.

Could be Callie Demetria Stevens, She was lucky Erik loved her ass. He took his anger out on lifting weights, and punching bags, sometimes even racist prisoners who rubbed him the wrong way.

All that thinking, Erik hadn’t realized that the exit was inches away from him, the fresh air wafting his nose. FINALLY, no more smelling his cellmates shit in the middle of the night, no more quick showers because he wanted to avoid the homosexual prisoners who already gave him a look that made him want to break their faces in two, no more filling up on stale bread and ramen noodle hookups with tuna fish and eggs, and no more being pushed around by the crooked ass correctional officers.

Erik watched as Johnson opened the final gate to freedom, a car waiting for him ahead, HIS car, a 2018 NSX in electric blue.

“That’s you?!” Johnson was astonished.

“I might have been behind bars, but that doesn’t mean I ain’t got bank.”

Erik didn’t give a final farewell, walking up to his car, his good friend since childhood named Kendrick walking up to dab him up excitedly.

“Yee wassup big homie!” Kendrick pats Erik’s back.

“What’s good bro, YO, thanks for looking out for me while I was away, I owe you one big time.”

“That’s what friends are for right? You’re my nigga, of course, I was gonna look out for you.”

Erik practically runs to the drivers' side, itching to feel that leather on his back and smell that new car smell. Pulling off at 70 miles per hour, Erik starts talking business.

“My clean slate is already in progress from my understanding, I got some people in high places who owe me some favors.”

“AND, I found your girl, MISS CALLIE.” Kendrick clarifies.

“Is that RIGHT?” Erik’s grip on the steering wheel doesn’t go unnoticed, the leather making a loud crunching sound.

“YEP. she’s been dating that same nigga Lamont. Supposedly they’re going out tonight for a date, I think it’s RA Sushi on Lancaster Street.”

Erik’s irritation crackled.

He had something in store for her ass, just wait. He had a backup apartment where he did business that he could stay for a while, and then tonight he would pop up on Callie and her temporary nigga, serving up punishment by dick.

9:00 pm, Friday

“Look at you! You know how much I love RA Sushi.” Callie grabs Lamont's hand as he helps her out of his matte grey G Wagon, his hungry eyes never leaving Callie’s body. Tonight she wore a skin-tight camouflage bodycon dress, her lips painted a wine red, natural makeup on her face that brought out her hazel eyes, long hair done in soft curls, and her feet covered in nude So Kate red bottoms.

“I remember your love for Sushi Callie, figured we could start the night off right with dinner before we head over to the Hookah Bar.” Lamont stood at 6’1, a tall glass of chocolate milk with a bright white smile and chiseled features. His hair was shiny and black, blending perfectly with the fitted black sweater he wore and the dark wash denim of his jeans. He had a simple silver Rolex on his wrist with a silver rope chain, the smell of rosewood wafting her nose every time he took a step closer to her.

“Just hookah bar afterward? Nothing else you had in mind?” Lamont turned to her with a suggestive flicker of his thick black eyebrow, his lips turned up into a crooked smile.

“Callie you always want some damn dick.”

“What’s wrong with that? You telling me you don’t want to fuck?” Callie chuckles with a shocked look on her face. She never met a man who would turn down sex, especially if his women was ready and willing to provide that for him.

“OF COURSE I love fucking you Callie, but I was thinking tonight we could watch some movies, you know, get all boo’d up.” Callie actually scrunches her face at that. She hadn’t had the dick in about a week and all he wanted to do was lay in bed and watch movies? It was so foreign to her. As much as she hated to remember him, Erik never seized to please his women in AND out of the bed, that was before he got his ass locked up. Cali always wondered how he’d been holding up, sometimes thinking the worst, but she knew Erik could hold his own.

“Earth to Callie?” Callie hadn’t noticed her arrival in RA Sushi, standing in front of the hostess.

“Table for two right?” She asked all chipper.

“Yes, a booth near the window please,” Callie asked, watching as the hostess picked up two menus, escorting them to their table.

“You sure you good? You spaced out back there.” Lamont put an arm around her shoulder, squeezing her soft arm, bringing her body flush against his.

“Yeah, you know how I can get, lost in my thoughts.” They both settled into their seats, Callie letting out a deep breath before opening her menu to appetizers.

“You sure you telling me everything?” Lamont squinted his eyes in suspicion at her.

“Stop worrying about nothing and order us some appetizers! I was thinking we should share a bowl of ramen.” Lamont didn’t press her further, the waiter's arrival providing relief for her.

They both sat with glasses of water, undecided on what drinks they wanted with their chopsticks digging into the hot bowl of noodles, broth, beef, eggs, and veggies. Callie was so caught up in Lamont wiping some broth from the side of her mouth, that she hadn’t noticed the arrival of a special guest, but Lamont did.

“Can we help you brother?” Callie looks in the direction of Lamont's question to find THE ONE FUCKING PERSON SHE DIDN’T EXPECT TO SEE.

“AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!” Callie screams in shock, jumping back in her booth seat, hitting her head against the brick wall. She whines in pain, her hand rubbing over her weave, eyes wide in terror, her hands shaking as they covered her mouth.

“Miss Callie Carter, AKA Daddy’s little slut with the trick tongue.” Erik rolls his shoulders, arms folded across his chest with his dreads freshly twisted and stroked to the side, gold-rimmed glasses on his face, a white v neck t-shirt with an oversized distressed denim jacket, light wash drop crotch jeans with red and black Jordan 1’s on his feet. He smiles brightly, revealing golds in his mouth. Callie could not remove her eyes from him, she COULDN’T BELIEVE that Erik himself stood before her with at least twenty pounds of muscle added to his body and a head full of dreads. Was this the nigga she left in the phone room almost 4 years ago?!!!

“What the fuck?! NIGGA, WHO ARE YOU TO SAY SOME SHIT LIKE THAT ABOUT MY GIRL? Did you lose your fucking mind bruh? Get the stepping homie!” Lamont was fuming now, ready to stand up out of the booth, but Callie put out a hand to stop him.

“Lamont!!! no, just no…”

Lamont gives Erik a nasty look before turning to Callie with confusion.

“You wanna tell me who this nigga is that claim you’ve been sucking his dick?” ERIK barks out a burst of laughter that caused a waiter to stumble with a tray full of hot saki shots.

“My nigga you don’t know?!! I’m the one Callie left almost four years ago.” Lamont had this dumb expression on his face that made Erik want to go upside his head even more.

“You lost you coffee faced nigga!? Check this out..”

Erik seats himself next to Callie, her entire personal space now filled with the smell of warm cinnamon, mint citrus, and Indian patchouli clouding her, it was provocative allure and power with distinct magnetic notes. Callie hated the fact that she loved the smell, she was livid because her seat grew wet.

“Since it seems that Callie here is the QUEEN of secrets, let me reveal her biggest one.”

“Erik DON’T” Callie yanks at his jacket, causing him to turn his blazing eyes on her.

“Get your fucking hands off me. You punished.” Callie felt like she’d been slapped in the face, her jaw slack and her hazel eyes almost leaving her sockets.

“Now back to you nigga with the temporary dick, I’m Erik, Callie’s man who’s been away in jail for seven years.” Lamont marinated in resentment, not a word spoke just pure hate in his eyes as he stared at Erik unblinking.

“You look like you wanna kill me right now, but I bet that shit doesn’t match up to how much I wanna end your fucking life,” Erik spoke that low and careful, so Lamont could catch every single word.

“And as for you,” Erik points to Callie without even looking at her.

“I told you not to come near this nigga, didn’t I? I told you not to breathe the same air as him and look at what we got.” Callie could only shake her head, her lower lip trembling. She didn’t know what would happen next, but she KNEW it wouldn’t be the perfect reunion.

“Say goodnight, Callie, we leaving.” Erik lifts from the booth, walking away a little to find Callie still seated.

“Oh? So Daddy gotta punish you further huh? That’s cool, I’m up for the extra work.” Callie looks at Lamont, his eyes staring down at the table without a single gaze at her. Erik whistles, getting Callie’s attention again as she finally lifts from the booth, now on her two feet.

“Sorry, Lamont.” She says over her shoulder, guilt creeping up her belly.

“Sorry, not sorry,” Erik says with a smile, knowing that Lamont wasn’t stupid enough to get up and try anything with him. Callie takes tentative steps towards Erik, all eyes in that restaurant on her like she was walking the walk of shame.

Erik holds up his hand to her, stopping her.

“What the fuck you doing?” He says with a harsh breath escaping his mouth.

“Is that how you're supposed to approach big daddy? You forgetting something?!” Callie’s body stiffens, turning her face away from him. He had so much CONTROL.

“You can’t be fucking serious right now Erik???” He cocks his head at her response.

“Oh I’m DEAD Fucking serious, get on all fours NOW, and crawl to me before I leave your ass in this restaurant.” Erik snaps his fingers, pointing towards the floor rapidly. Callie shakes her head, kneading her shoulder, she just couldn’t do it in public NO FUCKING WAY.

“I DON’T CARE WHERE WE ARE. You’re Daddy’s little slut who likes to be on her knees.” Callie massages the back of her neck, her eyes wavered as she lowers herself to the floor in the middle of that restaurant. She flips her hair over her shoulder angrily, placing her hands onto the floor now, crawling towards him slowly with her piercing hazel eyes on his dark deranged ones. Erik laughs bitterly, walking back towards the door with his eyes trained on his Callie, her plump body swaying with each crawling motion. Finally, at the door, Erik stands with his back against the archway, arms folded, waiting for her to kneel in front of him. Callie makes herself comfortable on her knees, her eyes still on him, because she didn’t want to risk pissing him off further in public.

“I been gone from that pussy for too long for you to entertain some other nigga, some wack ass nigga you stupid?! You thought you would get away with it huh?!” Erik kisses his teeth, bending over to grip her chin roughly. Callie gulps, her lip quivering.

“Erik,”

“AYE.” She snaps her lips shut, her tongue rolling along the inside of her cheek.

“DADDY. Please, I’m-I’m fucking sorry okay I-I-I?!!”

“I-I-I-Too late Callie.” Callie could feel everyone's eyes on her, Erik looking up scanning the restaurant with malice.

“Fuck yall looking at?! Mind yall fucking business!!!”

Callie wanted to slap his fine ass clean across his face.

“FUCK-YOU-ERIK.” She said that with spite, already regretting it.

“Fuck me?! NAH, kill that IM FUCKING YOU. And I’m fucking you hard, and rough. Too many years in that fucking cell.” His voice grew so deep and terrifying. It not only had her fearing him, but it also had her pussy wet and calling for him.

The pleasure, the terror for the MAN.

“Round one of your punishment, I miss those naughty lips wrapped around my dick.” Erik lifted his shirt to his mouth, his hard, sensuous, able-bodied, sturdy, powerful, brick house frame came into view littered in these interesting scars that had her starstruck and dazed.

“Each one of these scars represents the number of days I spent behind bars, seven years worth of days.”

His thick fingers took its time to undo his pants, her throat bobbing and spit forming in the corners of her mouth. She salivated for this man, her face giving him a fake scowl. Erik knew her all too well, a mischievous smirk on his face as he stuck one of his hands down his briefs, pulling out a whopping 10 inches of thick dick, gripping it firmly at the base, Callie going cross-eyed as her eyes took in his thick head, and veiny shaft.

“What you supposed to do with this?” Erik could hear the audible gasps and objections from the people inside the restaurant. Callie’s tongue flicks her bottom lip slow, her eyes trailing from his impressive piece of meat to his sexy eyes.

“I’m supposed to suck it, DADDY.” Callie felt butterflies in her belly from that.

“That’s a start, and how you supposed to suck me off?” Callie wiggles on her knees.

“With both hands behind my back, using only my mouth.”

“THAT’S RIGHT. Only using that FUCKING MOUTH. No hands, just the lips, that tongue…”

Erik’s dick sits on her lips then, Callie’s head shaking from how good it felt to have that heavy thing rest on her bottom lip, staining it red.

“I don’t wanna see my dick, you better use that throat to your advantage! Make my shit disappear like you ain’t got no barrier!” He barked that shit out rough. Callie brings her hands behind her, opening wide, sinking her mouth on his stiff dick smooth and clean, her throat vibrating around him. It felt like home sweet home the way his dick sat deep to her uvula, her inner cheeks contracting around him giving his dick the best tension. She couldn’t believe that Erik had her on her knees, in front of EVERYONE with his dick in her mouth, fresh out of prison.

“Taste like it used to right? Ain’t change one fucking bit.” Callie nods her head, sucking him with a twirl of her mouth causing his dick to hit her inner cheeks each time, a hiss escaping his mouth deeply. She releases with a pop, spitting on it, then gliding her lips over him again, now bobbing her head quickly, the gurgling sounds so loud in her ears, the shock from the people around them became less audible. She loved it, every single inch of it no matter how upset she tried to be. She missed the dick, and it made her own the humiliation even more.

“Suck on my sack bitch.” That’s the only warning she needed, her mouth popping off his dick to suck on his hefty balls, Erik grabbing hold of his dick then, smacking her cheek. Her tongue thrashed wildly over him, sucking him up into her mouth one at a time, her pretty eyes taking in the strain of pleasure that was etched across his face.

“Look at you, for somebody that wanted to leave me so damn bad you sure as hell giving me a good welcome home present. Nasty ass.” Callie licks her way back to his dick, her lips sucking hard on the tip of his dick, which caused Erik to grip the sides of her face, fucking into her mouth so rough her nails dug into the skin on her hands.

“DON’T RUN EITHER LET ME TAKE THIS MOUTH.” He fucked her mouth like it didn’t belong to her, Callie’s body shaking and her entire face covered in spit. She couldn’t keep her eyes off of this sexy man, he was even sexier than before, and the thought of him fucking her tonight had her praying to God to wake up the next day with the ability to walk.

“Still got that dangerous tongue I see, FUCKKK.” He threw his head back, that lip she loved to suck on between his teeth.

“This my mouth now Callie, Let me cum in my shit.” Erik’s hips banged into her mouth faster and faster, his groans growing louder.

“FUCK YES!” She whimpers around him, his cum spilling out in loads down her chin, neck, and chest. It was SO MUCH, she couldn't even drink it all. Callie never knew Erik to cum that much.

Erik withdrew his dick, smacking her on the lips with it before scraping up some cum, feeding it to her. She drank every single drop with love and affection, her makeup ruined and clothes, the humiliation in the back of her mind.

Callie’s hands fought to gain control as she opened her apartment door, the hallway deathly quiet with the exception of Erik’s hard breathing on her neck. He yanks on her weave hard, pulling her back and causing her to slam her door closed after successfully opening it. Callie’s throat felt like she swallowed rocks from how sore it was, Erik, making her suck his dick again on the ride over.

“You thought you would run out on a nigga? Fuck another nigga?” Erik smacks her ass rough causing her to draw in a sharp breath.

“ANSWER ME!”

“No! I-I no Daddy no!!!”

“No? So you didn’t fuck him?”

Callie felt him yank on her hair again, her right foot almost causing her to fall.

“I-I, EEEEEEE.” She knew if she told him, he would get her.

“shut -that-whining-up-right-fucking-now.”

“DADDY, pleasseeee.”

“SAY IT.” Callie hiccuped from her whimpering.

“Yes. yes, I did.” She felt his nose press into her face, taking a deep breath in, blowing it out, then take another deep breath in, holding it. She did it.

“Open that door baby girl, right now.” Callie felt Erik release her hair, her hand gripping the knob to let them into her place.

“STRIP.” Erik doesn’t wait for her to get to the bedroom, let alone all the way into her living room, watching Callie step out of her heels, pulling her dress up and over her head, revealing an emerald green g string underneath with a matching push up bra. Erik runs a hand down his face as he takes in Callie’s heavy titties, down to her round belly, straight to her pussy, down her thunder thighs, and finally landing on her pretty toes.

“My nasty little bitch got thick on me. Look at you, mmm, ass so phat pussy so phat, titties sitting pretty, chunky and sexy.” Callie clutched her chest, the look in Erik’s eyes making it hard for her to stand on two feet.

“Now you KNOW that pussy too fat to fit into a g string, look at it.” Erik takes off his jacket, pulling his shirt up and over his head, practically knocking her out with that killer body. He looked like he belonged in the military running drills. With a body like that he could lift her up and over his head, knock a nigga out with one clean punch.

“Pussy lips hanging over the sides, eating that fabric.” His tongue flicked his upper lip repeatedly. Callie’s eyes were trained there, her mouth hanging open.

“You like that? You like the way daddy flick his tongue?” Erik started teasing her then, flicking his tongue over his lips LL Cool J style, biting them with a wrinkle of his nose, puckering them, flicking his tongue between his fingers, she couldn’t take it.

“I bet Lamont wack ass couldn’t eat the pussy like me COULD HE?” she jerked her leg to calm her pussy.

“Say no daddy.” He instructed.

“No daddy.”

Erik approaches her, taking his fingers to yank her bra down, her titties jumping out at him with surprise. Erik frantically lowered his mouth, sucking up her nipples in a sloppy manner, making lurid noises. Callie didn’t hold back a single moan as he attacked her heavy chest, her hand's yearning to touch him, causing him to smack it away.

“What I say? You punished right? Say yes daddy.”

“Y-yes daddy.”

Erik unclips her bra, tossing it to the side in her living room, grabbing two handfuls of her titties sucking her nipples so good it almost made her fall flat on her back.

“I missed this mouth daddy.”

“I bet your thick ass did. You can’t get nothing pass me.” Erik trails his tongue down her belly now, kissing and nibbling.

“You remember how daddy liked to eat the pussy?” Callie nods her head.

“You got a mouth right? USE THAT SHIT.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“So how Daddy used to do it then?” Without a further word, Callie got to the floor, turning with her back arched and bent over, her pussy spreading for him in that tiny ass g string.

“GOOD GIRL. You know your position like the back of your damn hand.” Erik kneeled in front of her, fisting her panties before ripping it clean off.

“DAMN DADDY.” Callie’s eyes rolled in lust. Erik’s hands came down on her ass roughly, watching her skin grow red. Callie winces, and each time she would assume he was done spanking her, she felt another ping of pain.

“OWW!” She wanted to grab her ass but Erik wasn’t having that.

“Say I’m so sorry daddy.” Erik’s hands weren’t letting up, Callie felt her eyes began to water.

“I-I-I’m so sorry daddy.” He wasn’t convinced. Erik takes three of his fingers, sucks on them slow, before arching her back further, sliding his fingers into her wet pussy in one motion, Callie’s fist hitting the carpet. She attempts to close her legs but NOPE, Erik wasn’t having that shit.

“APOLOGIZE BETTER THAN THAT BABY.” Erik pumps his fingers over her g spot, spreading her wider with his knees, watching the way her body bounced with a need on his fingers.

“Callie, what I say?!”

“IM SORRY!!” Erik’s hand came down on her ass again like a whip, while his three fingers pumped her pussy quick. Callie’s toes curled, and her ass jiggled from how forceful Erik stroked with just his fingers.

“CUM. That’s the only warning I’m giving you.” Erik wasn’t playing with her tonight.

“Mmm” *stroke* “mmm” *Stroke* “mmmmmm” *STROKE* *STROKE* *STROKE* It was sweet torture.

Callie’s body bent lower, her cries muffled into her arm as she squirts on her plush carpet.

Without warning, Erik bent down to her pussy, laying her flat against his mouth, his tongue thrashing and lips rubbing all over like a mad man. Callie felt like she was in another dimension the way he ate like a savage. He ate her like he was starved like he hadn’t eaten for months. She could only lay there and cry, and Erik just kept on going, aiming to give her orgasms that would shatter you from the inside out.

“FUCK MY FACE.” Callie began bouncing on his mouth, and everytime her pussy hit his lips, he would suck her up like she was running from him.

“Oooooooooooo I can't take it!”

“Fuck my face like I said, give Daddy that fucking pussy, MY fucking pussy.” She wiggled her pussy on his lips, the suction sooooooo gooooooodddddd it had her lifting from his mouth. This alone earned another thunderous smack to her ass.

“What I tell you to do?!!” His fingers gripped her hips hard.

“Fuck your face.” She shook madly.

“So where that pussy going? fuck-my-mouth-like-I-said-right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well let’s go then I haven’t eaten all day bitch,” Callie whines her hips on his tongue, Erik slowly french kissing her pussy, actual kisses involving the slow sensual movement of your lips, with the surprise of a tongue, and the deep suction of the mouth. That’s what Erik gave her, but with more force.

“HAHA, That's the way you feed a nigga some pussy.” She fought the urge to grip his dreads.

“Yeah, daddy yeahhhhh.” She whimpers repeatedly like a song, her body tensing up as Erik continuously swiped his lips and tongue over her clit. Callie’s arms gave out on her, her body collapsing as her pussy creamed his entire mouth, too weak to jerk let alone moan. She passed out on his mouth, Erik still sucking like she had some left, but her pussy felt like he sucked her dry. He parted her pussy lips, sucking on everything there, flicking his tongue in its wake, causing her to flutter, her belly growing tight. She places her head on her arm, rocking her body back and forth while he did what he came to do FUCK HER UP.

Erik came to give her that torture and now Callie was a moaning mess, her clit so sensitive and the pressure in her belly so tight that she lifts from him frantically, crawling away. Erik growls in anger, his dreads wild in his face. Callie couldn’t even make it to the wall without him slamming her against it, parting her legs, laying flat on his belly while he finished the job. Callies, toes pointed roughly into the carpet, thighs shaking, her hands gripping a handful of his dreads.

“Ima squirt, ima squirt!” She squeezes her eyes shut, the pressure knocking at her hard, and finally gaining access to Erik's mouth as she slid down the wall. She gave silent cries to his assault, finally feeling his lips leave her pussy, but of course, he smacks her there.

Erik’s chest rose and fell rapidly, lips set in a hard line as he removed his bottoms, kicking them off. She couldn’t keep her eyes off his DICK. It was so damn big it made her moan just from the sight.

“Oh don’t worry, you bought to get it now.” Erik picks her up and over his shoulder, guiding her to her room.

“I haven’t heard you cry enough tonight. I’m gonna make you scream from this dick.” Erik kicks open her bedroom door, throwing her down onto the bed watching her body bounce and jiggle.

“If I buss it wide open will you scream for Daddy?” Erik yanks her pillows and covers from her bed, kneeling between her legs. He brings his hand to her wet pussy, smearing the sloppy juices over his hand, and bringing it to his dick.

“If I pound you into this bed will you cry? I really wanna make that ass cry.” Erik pulls her legs back so far she winces, her feet touching her headboard and her knees touching her ears.

Erik leans over her, his dick sliding between her folds, whispering low into her ear, his breath fluttering against it.

“Daddy gonna stretch this pussy.” He whispers so low you have to be still to catch it.

“Daddy gonna beat it up.” Callie taps her toes against the headboard.

“Watch how daddy does it.” Erik lifts, his hands latched to the back of her thighs, his dreads hanging in her face, and his dick slowly sinking into her purposely. Callie frantically shakes her head, pushing at his rock hard chest, the texture of his scaring soft against her fingers. He jerked forward rough, causing her to bounce. She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her chest. Erik repeats himself, the sound of smacking flesh hard and rough in her ears, the springs creaking like they begged to break. She shook from the pleasure and pain as her eyes swam with tears and her jaw dropped. Erik went without stopping, Callie no longer differentiating between consciousness and unconsciousness.

“You watching me punish you, look what you got me doing.” Erik drew his lips into his mouth, his eyebrows scrunched and his dimples smiling at her.

“Keep them eyes on me, watch me fuck this pussy up.” She gritted her teeth, nothing left to do except to grip anything. Her eyes observed his dick fucking her while his pupils flared. Callie couldn’t take the way his strong arms held her big thighs open, and the way his thick dick went in and out with a stream of wetness coating it.

The momentum increased times 1000 now, Callie digging her nails into Erik’s shoulders, his big goliath frame pumping her pussy so hard, her body jerked like a fuck doll, a shrill scream escaping her mouth.

“There you go, that’s it. Scream while I’m in the pussy.” There was sure to be a gaping dent in the middle of the mattress the way Erik fucked her, using Callie’s pussy like a punching bag, his stamina insane just as much as that dick.

“I gotta cum!” Callie cries.

“You always gotta cum, ain’t nothing I don’t already know.”

“Daddy it’s right-there!” She screams to the ceiling. Callie’s pussy was THROUGH she couldn’t take anymore.

“Where the fuck is it?!” Erik searches with his eyes, his lip between his teeth while glowering.

“DADDY,” Callie jerks so wild that Erik’s grip on her slips, her liquid pouring on him.

“You getting more of this dick though so BEND OVER.” She couldn’t even move without falling into the mattress, Erik flipping her over, positioning her so that her ass was in the air pointed to the ceiling and her arch was so deep her spine was non-existent. Erik grips her wrists, jerking forward into her cleanly, her head throwing back before falling forward in defeat.

“Say fuck this pussy hard from the back daddy.” Erik jerks slow.

“Daddy-fu-fuck this pussy hard from the back.”

“Where your fucking manners??”

“Fuck-fuck this pussy hard from the back pleassse.”

“GOOD JOB.”

If back shots could kill, Callie would be dead. If getting your back blown out felt like the dick itself fought to claim your soul through your pussy, then Callie would be a shell. Erik fucked like a monster, his dick not only residing in her guts but her damn chest. Callie turned to look at him in the middle of his assault with a tear stained face and a blank gaze, her hair a tangled mess and her lower lip quivering.

“You look lost, something I can help you with??” her ass was a tidal wave as it bounced off his body.

“Slow down daddy.” Callie practically pleaded with this man.

“How old are you?” Erik asked between deep breaths.

“28.”

“So what that make you then? A little girl or a grown woman?”

“A grown w-w-women.”

“So be a grown woman AND TAKE THIS DICK, take it no problem.” Erik lifts one leg, crossing his arms on her back, fucking her as hard as he could go, Callie’s head falling to the mattress, so close to banging on the headboard. Erik noticed her eyes rolling to the tops of her lids, her arms going limp in his.

“I can’t believe this shit, my dick got you passing out!” Erik couldn’t help the triumphant smile on his face, His dick growing sensitive in her pussy he just KNEW he would feed her his cum.

“Whether you’re here with me or not tell me if you feel this nut in this tight SHIT.” Erik groans repeatedly, finally snapping his hips forward rough, his nails dragging over her skin. Callie felt possessed, her pussy like a cream filled doughnut. Her eyes snap open frantically, as Erik jerked himself empty, her arms flailing in his grip. “We don’t run from the dick Callie! Stop acting defiant.” Callie pushes at Erik with her foot, rolling off the bed and running for her bedroom door with a limp in her walk. Erik wanted to yell from how angry she just made him.

“WHEN YOU GONNA ACT YOUR AGE AND TAKE THIS DICK CALLIE?!!!” Erik lifts from the bed, his dick swinging, searching for her with a swing of his head, dreads shaking.

“We playing hide and seek now?” Erik chuckles deep, turning left in her living room finding call standing on the other side of the table with a pleading look and a continuous shake in her thighs.

“The fuck you doing?! Bring that ass over here now!”

“No E! I can’t take it no more the dick is too much! What the fuck You been doing lifting weights with the dick?!” She observed the way his dick stood erect, hard enough to break a damn brick in half.

“That shit just won’t go soft.” She cried like a baby.

His forehead creased in frustration, “when I catch you, I’m fucking you into whatever surface there is. EVERY TIME YOU RUN, it’s just gonna earn you a harder fuck.” Erik jolts left while Callie goes the other way, pausing when Erik makes a quick move to her side. She tried to run but her foot caught on the side of her dining room table chair, causing her to trip and Erik to wrap his big arm around her waist, lifting her naked body up and on the table. The plant in the middle falls over, littering soil on the surface and water. He has her ankles now, pulling on them and finally resting them on his shoulders.

Her eyes were glossy, head shaking as Erik spread her legs again, yanking up her hand and wrapping it around him.

“Put this dick in my pussy.” He instructs. Callie does as she’s told with a shaking hand, her pussy disobeying her advances from how tight and swollen she was.

“Oh so now the dick can’t fit?! It was just in there a minute ago!” Erik starts jerking his hips, the more he jerked, the more his dick would stab into her pussy. Callie’s brows drew together, her back arching as Erik’s stiff dick finally made its way into her pussy again.

“You know what I think?” Erik grips her hips, pulling her body onto his dick like she couldn’t move a muscle.

“I think you like to play like you don’t want me to fuck you. But guess what? I like the chase, the more you do it the more I want it.” His hips snapped forward and the muscles running along his abdomen flexed each time. Callie couldn’t take the sight of this beautiful man fucking her.

“You taking my pussy daddy?!!” Callie’s mind and body seemed to warp to his control. She felt him bring her knees to her ears, angling her body so that each time he pounded, her lower half would meet his thrusts. Callie screams from the deep diving of his dick, causing her to slap him hard across his face, so hard she could see the vein in his neck snap.

“DO THAT SHIT AGAIN.” Erik dated her to, his eyes damn near black, face contorted in fury. Callie slaps him again, the sound compared to the sound of a belt breaking skin. He growls.

“You so mad at Daddy fucking you into this table slap me again! Hit me again right?! Do it bitch since you so sick of me fucking this pussy up!” Callie started to punch at his chest, her hands now yanking hard on his dreads, bringing his head towards hers, his eyes squeezed shut from the tension. Erik stabbed his dick angrily into her, the table scraping against the floor now hitting the wall.

“You mad and I’m taking this pussy AND you can’t run.” He was smug about that. Callie’s walls clench and unclench around his dick then, her tiny hand coming to his throat then.

“YOU JUST LOVE MAKING ME SQUIRT HUH?” She yells. You could hear her wetness building inside of her like Erik was plunging his dick into a body of water repeatedly.

“You love ME making you squirt. Like I told you, I’m taking this pussy and every single squirt and cream with me.” Erik bit down on the hand that tried to choke him, causing her to wrap her legs around his neck, her body shaking like a wave, squirting on this mans dick AGAIN.

She watches as he slips out of her, bringing his mouth to attack her wet pussy.

“You eating it for what though?!!” She cries, her body already going limp from Erik’s tongue.

“Spread that pussy open Callie.”

“No nigga.” She pushes at his big head, but of course, his neck is made of muscle too.

“No? You don’t tell daddy no you tell daddy yes.”

Erik sucks her up so much her liquid began to form around his mouth in bubbles, she had NEVER been this damn wet. She couldn’t control herself, as much as she cried and pleaded her hips rolled over his tongue.

“Fuck you and that mouth!” She could feel it growing in her belly again.

“You love it when I make you cum stop acting brand new!!!” She screams, her pussy squirting on him AGAIN. She almost falls to the floor from the feeling, Erik’s face shining, his lips dripping, his chest and abs glistening. Callie slips from the wet table, backing away from his crazy ass before running to her door. Erik doesn’t move just yet, kissing his teeth in annoyance before looking down at his still erect dick. His conscious begged him to cum again, he had to. Imagine being away for so long with only a memory to beat your meat to and not the real thing. Erik walks into the living room to find Callie unlocking her door, slipping out. He runs like he was doing sprints on a race track, catching her by her hair, closing the door, and lifting her body to the door. There they both stood, naked in the hallway for any of her neighbors to see, and I guess they both got there wish.

“What the HELL is all that noise out here!!” Callie’s neighbor Miss Daniels yanks her apartment door open in one of her house dresses, old titties swinging and shower cap halfway off her head.

Callie didn’t mean to give the old women a heart attack she really didn’t, but the look on her face made it look like she needed medical attention. Erik didn’t even give the lady a glance, his eyes fixated on Callie’s voluptuous body up against that door.

“Miss Daniels go ahead back in he’s not gonna move.” Callie warns the women, watching as she closed the door softly, her eyes popping out her head.

“You catching cardio while I’m tryna get in them GUTS. You got the neighbors watching and shit fuck wrong with you?!” Erik takes his dick again, teasing her tight entrance before sinking back into her so deep her eyes roll cross-eyed. Erik smirks at this, now bouncing Callie on his dick so good and loud everyone in that apartment we’re definitely sure to hear now.

“You gonna run from this good dick again or act right?”

Callie’s lip trembles from the way his head glides along her g spot.

“Act right Daddy.”

“And if you don’t act right, what Daddy gotta do?”

“Punish me further.” She whispers

“Yeah, that’s what daddy gotta do. If you just let me paint them walls again with this nut, I’ll leave you alone for the night.” Erik opens the door, walking into the apartment with Callie still around him, bouncing her slow.

“You still keep that vibrator in your top drawer between your socks?”

Callie couldn’t believe this nigga wanted to use a sex toy on her after already torturing her pussy enough that night.

“Mhm.” That’s all she says, her head falling back and Erik’s lips and teeth latching to her neck. Back into her bedroom that reeked of sex, Erik puts Callie on the bed, walking to her dresser to find her vibrator. She had a few new ones now, pulling out a gspot one that he itches to use. Erik walks back to the bed, flipping Callie up on her side, resting behind her while bringing her leg up and to her shoulder. Erik couldn’t keep his hands from gliding along her wet, sloppy pussy, finally turning on the vibrator and placing it inside her sitting right over her spot.

“Ahh!” She attempts to curl her body up, making Erik dig into her hips, dick twitching as he sinks into her again with a shake of his head in blissful ecstasy, rubbing along her outstretched thigh before gripping a handful of her ass from behind. Erik could feel the vibrator jump along the tip of his dick each time he fucked up into her.

“DAMN, we gotta do this more often. Shit feeling good.” He bites her ear hard, causing her to screech.

“Shit feel amazing right? Say uh huh daddy.”

“Uh huh daddy yess” Callie’s body couldn’t help it, the way he rubbed in her and the way that vibrator glided on her spot had her shaking with pleasure.

“You don’t wanna run no more huh? You tired of running from this dick?”

“Yess.” Erik keeps his eyes on the side of her face, his dick buried deep like he was digging for gold. Callie turns to meet his dark eyes, bringing her mouth to his frantically, letting this man use his cum stained tongue to ravish her mouth. Erik wanted her wider, trying to stretch her body more and more so he could feel the vibrator too. That shit had him going wild, his teeth biting down on her bottom lip and his abs flexing on her back.

“You gonna cum daddy?! You better cum too since you fucking me so much!!” She spoke that through clenched teeth.

“Cum in me deep daddy pleaseee!”Callie asked innocently her hand gripping his face.

“BEG ME.”

“Fuck me good and cum in me deep DADDY! please, please fuck!” Erik trails his eyes down to her pussy, his head falling forward as he roughly fucked up into her, her body jerking and hands pulling at the last bit of sheets on her bed. She couldn’t take it, her head fell back against him and her eyes fluttered shut. Here she was, giving him her final squirt of the night, the most powerful squirt mixed with his thick white cum.

“LET ME CUM IN YOU DEEP.” Erik was frantic.

“So fucking deep you better SUCK ME DRY.” He bangs into her two more times, before shouting a string of curse words to ceiling, the pressure of his dick against that vibrator causing Callie to release herself all over him some more.

Erik slipped out of her slow, his dick throbbing, and the vibrator buzzing madly on the bed. Callie could only lay there, feeling the bed shift behind her from Erik rising to turn off the lights. She felt used and filled, laying in her own juices while Erik draped his heavy ass arm over here in the dark. He gives her cheek a sloppy lick, and then a kiss, snuggling close to her with his dick pressed between her cheeks.

“You off punishment. Get some sleep.” That’s all he says, his nose buried in her had and his breaths evening out into that of quick slumber. All she could hear was his snores in her ears, and all she could see was pitch black. Callie couldn’t help the frustration that began to settle within her.

This nigga then fucked her so good she couldn’t even sleep.

Fuck that jailbird.

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