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that-one-random-writer · 1 year

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Caution to my Wayward Son Chapter 4 (18+ mature)

Summary: One bad first date. That's all it takes for an impression to be rotten. A reputation costs more than just the price of dinner. Six months deployed on an aircraft carrier across the hall from the date. That is priceless in the navy.

Warnings: Cursing, Drinking, 18+ mature smutty moment, a hands-on approach. Words: 1,678 no use of Y/N minors DNI! Less fighting more tension.

Chapter 1 My Masterlist

The rest of the day was quiet. You and Bradley had established an understanding of 'you don't want each other.' The honest truth is that the more that Bradley denied you and pushed you away, the more you wanted to chase. It was like a sick attachment issue you had after dealing with your fucked up childhood. You really didn't want him at first. Even when he first started being mean you didn't want him. All the guys that ever came on to you, were a bore, and you didn't like just people being rude for no reason, but the simple words 'you can't have it' rang in your head like an alarm that had no snooze button. Just a constant taunt. You did hate him, but the way those words teased you were something you've never experienced. The jealousy play might be working out in your favor.

You walked into the rec room after class was dismissed. You sat across from Em.

"Em, I have a question to ask?"

"Do I think trix is hot?...yes." She smiled at you. "If he's yours, then Ill back off. If not then I give you full permission to push my number his way."

You laughed. That wasn't your question, but you had been interrupted, "Lucky." Johnson had showed up.

"Trix, come sit." He sat next to you.

"So, where are you from you never told us?" The conversation started to incorporate Trix, dismissing Em's comments.

Bradley walked into the rec room and noticed the three sitting together. Of course, Johnson was sitting next to you. He sat next to Nat, who had been watching from the sidelines thus far, while trying to focus on her studies. "Rooster, I'm getting worried about you." She said as soon as he sat down. "You're not acting like yourself. You're being weird." She folded her arms.

Bradley scoffed. "I just miss home." She lifted a brow. "Bradley, I know you're lying. I've caught you looking at her. I've known you for a long time now. You're jealous. Just admit it."

He rolled his eyes and forced a laugh. "I am not. I am pissed because I'd rather see her miserable."

"Without you." She added to his sentence.

He folded his arms. "No, because she's a bitch."

She leaned back. "See, this is what I'm talking about. I've never heard you call any women bitches."

Bradley looked back at you. "I guess I'd never met one before."

You were smiling at your friends. Johnson had his arm around your seat.

Nat narrowed her eyes. "You just need to apologize."

You were laughing at something Johnson had said. Bradley had thought he was over all of it when you both continued the banter after lunch, but seeing you again right next to him boiled his blood all over again. "Are you even listening to me?" She scoffed and leaned back in her seat, arms still folded. "I'm going to my room." Rooster ignored her frustration.

Bradley got up and walked to his room. He made it inside and laid down on his bunk. He didn't want to listen to Nat. He wanted to piss you off. He wanted to get you angry and get you yelling. Yelling at him , not just the whisper yell that he has heard. He wanted you yelling for him. Bradley wanted your lips on his, then have you yelling for him to keep going, bradley shook his head. No, he just needed sex. That's all this was. It was just the primal instinct. He didn't care that Johnson had you as a girlfriend or what you were going to do with him physically. He just wanted you in his bed pleasing him and nothing more. Maybe you were right after all. Maybe that's all he really wanted in the first place. That's why he was jealous he wanted sex that you were going to give someone else.

He heard you walking down the hall. He knew it was you because your voice was loud and obnoxious. He didn't know who you were talking to. A jet landed when you and the mystery person got close enough for him to identify who you were with. It has to be Johnson. He wanted nothing more than to punch something. You and Rooster were the only ones down this corridor. There were people not far, but they couldn't hear and wouldn't be walking down the hall at random. Perfect place for a hookup.

His assumptions were confirmed when he heard muffled moans coming from your room. He was so mad but hadn't had anything in a while. His last hook up was months ago. He felt his cock twitch. Your moans were soft but he knew behind the door they were louder.

He wanted to be the one in your room. He could imagine the way you were so riled up when you both argued. He imagined that being transitioned into sexual passion. He could almost imagine your body from the whiskey fogged memory of what you wore on the date.

He leaned against the door, his breathing tightening. He wrapped his hand around the handle and cracked the door open. The moans were ever so slightly louder. He listened while you were in pleasure.

It was a much different tone than when you were angry. He felt his belt coming undone. It was like his body had a mind of its own. He gripped tightly stroked his throbbing cock. He closed his eyes imagining you were there with him, making those sultry sounds underneath him. He continued to stroke harder and faster while your moans got louder. He heard your moans come to a peak and his breath faltered. He finished, closing the door quickly so whoever was with you wouldn't find it cracked and try to bust in.

His heart ached. "I hate her." He spoke in a way that read more as he was trying to convince himself.

You were in the other room and fell asleep, comfortable and relaxed from your high.

The next morning you woke up, took a shower and got ready for the class. You opened the door to find Bradley there waiting. "So how was it?"

Your eyebrows stitched together. "How was what?" He glanced behind you into your room.

"Cereal boy. How was he?" He met your eyes again.

"Trix wasn't here last night..." you trailed. "Em walked me home but she took off back to her room."

Rooster could make a decision right now. He could either stalk out the hallway at night and continue to hear your hot voice trembled in pleasure, or he could call you on your bullshit and embarrass you and know the real answer from your reaction. His dick won. "Oh..." He just turned and started walking down the hallway to class.

You followed after him. "Do you want him to come down here? I mean, Im sure he wouldn't mind an audience. " Bradley looked down at you, rolling his eyes.

He shrugged. "No, I would rather not. You said yesterday you were going to take it up the ass. I just thought you might have done it."

You scoffed. "I was bothering you, dickhead." you continued walking behind him. You remembered the night before looking at the pictures from his social media. His profile wasn't private, and his body was incredible. The words kept spinning. 'You can't have it.' You couldn't stop yourself from imagining him, and it drove you wild.

"You weren't bothering me, sweetheart. I told you, I don't care who you fuck." He continued down the hallway.

"Sweet heart? Really, I figured it would bother you. Me underneath a different ripped man. " You slipped past him, strutting your hips a little harder than usual.

"Not even a little bit." He watched your ass bounce in your uniform almost the whole way to class.

You sat down in your seat and he sat beside you.

"So if you weren't fucking the cereal boy, then what were you doing?" He wanted to see you get flustered and see how much you would tell, without risking losing those sexy sounds. Through his door.

"Why do you ask?" You turned it back on him.

He should have saw it coming. "Just making conversation."

You looked at him with your eyebrow pinning up a lot of confusion on your face.

"You're full of shit, you actually want to know what I was doing. Do you want to know what I was wearing too?" You pulled out your highlighters.

"Not really. I still dont like you. I just prefer to be at least a little civil." He was lying though his teeth he wanted nothing more then to have a visual to concrete his imagination next time.

"Good because I don't like you either. You get on my nerves. It's none of your business what I was doing last night. I can't have your body, so you can't have knowledge of mine." He smirked.

"Technically speaking, you saw my body out on a beach. I know you did at the party. So I deserve a bikini picture." You raised an eyebrow at him.

"You don't deserve anything, you prick... ,but if you want one so bad, you could just look on my social media, that is, if I accept your friend request." He fought every nerve to keep his phone in his pocket. "You could roll the dice, but don't place your bets on it. My man-friend might get jealous." You were placing a trap right out in front of him.

His eyes shot to Johnson. "I thought you weren't with him."

"I'm not... that doesn't mean that he's not flirting with me and might get competitive. If he sees I'm friends with you online, someone who clearly doesn't want me." You exaggerated the 'doesn't'. You could tell he got upset and competitive himself. You loved seeing him so aggressive.

"I don't want you. You're a raging bitch that irratates me to no end." Especially when you start bullshit like this. He adds in his thoughts.

You placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know. You don't have to tell me. I do it because I enjoy watching you squirm." This win went to you. His shoulder tingled from your touch. Bradley already knew when he would send you the request.

When you were most vulnerable again...

Chapter 5

I do not give permission for my stories to be posted anywhere. Stealing stories makes you a c u next tuesday.

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nikkiitalks · 9 months

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Race Baiting - A thoughtument by Nikkiitalks.

Okay.. Here we go.

Firstly, for the sake of absolute transparency, when I was first contacted by @olivaraofrph in a tirade of a novel of a response, my skimming through it had me starting to be swayed in her favour, mostly because of the depths of which her privacy was invaded for the sake of the allegations against her. And in that moment, I prematurely forgave her. Told her I understood. But it turns out, after much more has come to light, that I in fact do not understand. And in turn my forgiveness is recanted.

I did not have all the information. Hell, I had a fraction of it. Natalie and I, we were friendly, but not close. We don't talk every day and we never did. We had, though, stood arm in arm against that moment's hot button issue that I had felt strongly about, and so had she. It seemed. We'd held each other in places of mutual respect, shouting each other out and praising each other's advocacy.

Now, it all feels so... silly. This performative display that I so willingly let be pulled over my eyes. But that's beside the point. That was all I knew of her, really. There are others in this tiny niche of our already tiny community, that were far closer. Those that ran servers, indigenous servers, with her. They weren't even afforded the respect of being given an explanation to, but I did?

I was the one, who when I it was brought to my attention, when I was urged to send a DM which I already had, that was deemed the one to get that? A novel, let me be clear, the contents of which I won't make public upon request. A lot of it had nothing to do, truly, with the issue at hand but served to distract from it in a wall of text. It was overwhelming, and it felt just a teeny, tiny bit, manipulative.

There's so much evidence now, even evidence regretfully obtained, that the only place her advocacy extends to is Tumblr. None of your public, irl facing socials having anything there about it. Your own admission of percentage, (how that had been confirmed as she claims I can't speculate), and other things that don't line up. Those of us in the community affected haven gotten together to compare and talk through our feelings toward it all and there is a consensus.

It fucking sucks.

Just the fact that this needs to be brought up absolutely sucks. It detracts from the credibility of other indigenous creators in the space. Not all press is good press, and Natalie right now, is bad press. Beyond myself and the others being lied to. Beyond the personal offense I take to that. This is what bothers me the most. For all the posturing and all the 'talking in wrong and confusing ways' it makes us all look bad. And for what?

The other personal and religious or spiritual beliefs she believes doesn't mean anything to me. The other racism claims about her I can't confirm, whatever. Talking shit about a beloved creator, real or not. Doesn't matter.

What matters is there is damage done to the indigenous community here on the rpc, and before we came together to discuss it, it was distressing to all of us. There is no such thing as clout on tumblr and I don't know why people can't seem to get that through their heads? What need is there to claim to be something you're not, even through insinuations, half truths and vague details? I don't understand.

Yes, the indigenous community is so willing to accept anyone with any indigenous blood, and it's the fact that this is what was taken advantage of by someone... that really gets me. That's what really makes it sting. It's a blow to every white passing Native out there, in my opinion. That's where my hurt is. It's the fact that there is question of the validity of the claims toward a shared familial and generational trauma to myself. That still impacts my father's side of the family to this day.

I don't even know where I'm going with all this, and I feel like I'm typing myself in circles, but it's all to say that I don't care about all the other stuff that serves to muddy the waters of the real issue. Race baiting does nothing but end up hurting those who's real life experiences you're roleplaying.

#olivararph #race baiting tw #rpc #discourse tw

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tr1ckysp00k · 1 year

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Just one bite?

Part 4: what is he hiding?. .

Warning: [mention severed body parts, and blood. ¡Suggestive! Hints of stalking, ]

Enjoy <3

These past few weeks with bob have been ‘interesting’. He behavior patterns have evolved a bit, and he would leave in the middle in the day or night to ‘get some work done’. The burger shop was closed due to the place being at the verge of falling apart, so what could he be ‘getting done’? Maybe him not being home with YOU was what was making you Frustrated. You enjoyed his company.

When he does come home, he is bathed in a funny oder, it makes your nose scrunch at the horrid smell. Still, it doesn’t stop you from giving him a big hug! He would also come home with gifts, and trinkets for you to use and collect! *projecting a bit here, I love collecting trinkets! -adhd noises-*

Gift for his lil dove

Once he came home with a handful of buttons, you had a questionable look where he got them from. Maybe at a antique shop, was your first thought. You gladly took them, and put them in a small box, maybe you could use them for a future project!

Back to his behavioral issue

Bob often kept you inside. Not wanting you to come out, unless it was a emergency. When you needed to head to the store to get a few things, like clothes and munchies, he had barricaded the door with his massive self, insisting that he could go instead! You humbly declined his offer, which lead to him begging and groveling at your feet to stay inside.

“It’s not that big of a deal bob! I’ll come and go!”

“No! I insist you stay inside. Please? I’ll be out anyways, I don’t want ‘cha gettin’ hurt.”

You felt that there was more to it than that. He was hiding something. You felt it in your gut, but what could he be hiding? You erased the thought out of your head. Maybe tv will get your mind off it! You plopped on the couch, mindlessly changing channel by channel. Through the cut-off sentences, one particular word stopped you from scrolling. You quickly went back up a channel, as a report women stated the nightly news;

“- To night police officer John and officer jack, had discovered two bodies in a small creek, not too far for the local town area. The same indecent occurred this morning, a rotting corpse was found in a trailer park near the woods. To top it off, a local had found a severed arm in front of the forest trail.

No sight of the murderer was caught by human eye nor camera.

Local police suggest that people stay indoors time-being and to avoid any part of the woods if you’re going out alone.“

It cant be

Your heart dropped. The pit of your stomach had churned, causing you horrible pain. Those poor innocent people.

You jumped once you heard a sudden bang of the door flying open. It was just bob. You got up to pull him to the couch. He had opened his arms signaling for a hug, in which you rejected, hurrying to grab his hand and lead him to the sofa, frantically pointing at the tv screen. He didn’t show much of an remorseful expression, just a slight frown. You on the other hand were panicking, what if the killer got to your friends, family, or. . Bob. He had hugged you close telling you that you and him were gonna be fine. He seemed to be so calm about this. He took you to bed, covering you in blankets and pillows.

You’re safe now

“Dinner will be ready in a few, doll.” He smiled warmly. He turned off the lights and closed the blinds, so you can be more at comfort. He was so thoughtful. You attempted to think only happy thoughts only for them to be immersed with fear. You squirmed under the barrier of pillows and blankets bob had made for you. Things were just going so well. . Why must you have to go through this dreadful pain again? Why can’t you just live in peace? Aren’t you stressing enough already? What have you done to deserve this? You’re thoughts of distress being interrupted by bob opening the door, a slight creak would follow along so. He emerged from the wooden frame, a platter of hot food rested on his rough hands. He placed the plate on top of the blanket. you crossed legs, straightening your posture as bob would sit right at your side with a refreshment in his hand. Once you finished eating, you prompted him to hand you the glass, waving your fingers in and out. Once given, you drank the cold refreshment, washing down the food you had practically engulfed within serval bites.

It was only a little past seven, and you were tired. You ever so gently made your way to rest your head atop of bobs lap. Almost immediately he straightened his sloppy posture, flustered and in awe. He picked you up, placing you atop his warm body. you were too tired to react nor move, so he basically was dragging you like a rag doll. He rested your face on his chest, then petting your head with a gentle touch of each stroke. You had fallen asleep quicker than he anticipated, He slightly pouted.

He was relishing in your warmth and scent, growing hungry with every breath he took. He just couldn’t wait for the day you’d be all his. You were everything he lived for. Everything he ever needed. it wasn’t long before the hunger was too much to bare. He needed to take it out on something, or someone. He needed to ‘quench his thirst’.

Is he going to get a snack?

You woke up in the middle of the night. Bob had gotten out of bed, he was trying to keep his quiet. He was dressed too, bob had a coat and some leather boots on. He walked out the door, the floor boards would Squeak with every footstep he’d take. Curiosity had gotten to you. ‘Where could he be going in the middle of the night?’ The question pondered in your head, just before you had gotten brave enough to follow him. Or stupid enough.

You’d quietly get up from the mattress, the walking to the door. You hand placed on the rim of the doorframe, awaiting for He to walk out so you could follow. Once you had heard a silent click, you’d silently rush to the door, waiting little before opening it to continue to spy on bob.

What is he hiding?

It was dark and hard for you to see but there was just enough light for you to spot bobs massive silhouette peaking through the narrow openings of the trees. You tried your best to keep QUIET and keep UP at the same time, leaving no sound behind your light, yet fast pace. Finally he had stop at what looked to be a abandoned home, it had forest growing atop of the roof as well as on the sides of the house. It was small and covered head to toe in rust and dead paint. It had the charm of a old shack to be honest. A horrible rot would cover the house, it was unbearable.

Bob had walked in without a problem. he hummed a soft melody as he made his way inside the shack-like building. You debated on going back home or to continue investigating. You wanted to see if he was hiding something, or if this had anything to do with his strange behavior. you then hesitatingly followed along behind bob. The smell greeted your nose once you stepped onto the shabby porch of the building. It was much stronger in the inside- you wanted to throw up. You couldn’t spot bob inside the main area, so you assumed it was safe to enter. This was where Bob was going in the middle of the night? Why? What could be waiting for him here? You heard a door slamming from another room, which made you jump a bit. You wondered around for a bit, opening doors and pondering different rooms.Each was scented with their own unique, horrible oder. You opened a door which had a bed and and a small box-like tv within it. ‘Must be the bedroom’. You walked in, your knees wanting to fail on you, the stench here was so much worse than all the rooms combined. You had came across a small closet, which was the thing that mostly stuck out in the shady room. All your attention was now focused on this singular door, your curiosity made your hand itching to open it to see what was awaiting inside. A shadow suddenly engulfed your own, two hands grabbed at your shoulders causing you to jolt up and let out a blood-chilling scream.

“Woah there! Calm down! Calm down! It’s just me darlin’!” Bob exclaimed, a bit startled by your shriek of terror

“W-WHATS THE MATTER WITH YOU? WHY DO YOU KEEP DOING THAT?” You shouted, a bit pissed at him for nearly making your heart jump out your chest.

“What are you doin’ here? Were you followin’ me?. .” His tone of voice changing, furrowing his thick brows in disappointment. You fiddled with your hands a bit.

“What- what are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night!” You attempted to point all fingers at him, your feet shuffling underneath your crippled own.

He looked down at you, nothing but silence came from him. Finally after a good few seconds, he spoke up. “I come here to find peace with myself.” A toothy smiled followed after.

“Peace? In this heap of junk?”

You scrunched your nose, nauseated by the foul smell.

“There is more to the place than meets the eye.~” he had hummed, placing both his hands on your shoulders, lightly pushing you out the room.

“Yeah! like the smell!” You stated in sarcastic optimism.

“It’s not that bad, really!”

“It reeks of death- and anchovies. You’ve been eating anchovies in here Mr. Bob?“ you quirked a brow. He chuckled silently, continuing to lead you out the door. You were still conspicuous of him but, deciding to follow along. You were not gonna stay a minute longer inside of THAT.

It seems like he didn’t get to ‘satisfy his hunger’. . What is he to do now?

You both got home, exhausted from tonights lil adventure. You threw your self into the bed, awaiting for bob to join you. Was this normal? Do friends usually like spooning each-other to sleep? Let alone sleep together in bed at all? Plus all the nicknames we called you. You were a bit in question, could you and bob be more than friends?

You jumped a little at bobs sudden appearance. He chuckled at your response, to him it was cute how easy you were to scare. You turned yourself when suddenly two hands found place on your hips. his grip was intense too, it kinda startled you, though you should be used to it by now. He pulled you towards him, then resting his head in the crook of you neck. You stiffened yourself, unable to give out a reaction nor say anything at all. You couldn’t make out what he was saying, but you could hear that he was mumbling things, that were ever so sweet, under his breath. One hand had stayed upon your hip while the other drifted to your thigh, gently squeezing with his rough fingers. NOT A FRIEND ZONE. You squeaked at his sudden touch, quickly placing your hands atop of his, letting out a small whimper.

“B-bob?” Was all you can speak out through your shaky breath.

“Relax, I’m just gettin’ ya comfortable.” He softly cooed into your neck. You didn’t respond, only burying your flushed face into pillows. He took note of this.

“Why so bothered, lamb chops?~” he’d mock, admiring the small nervous noises you’d breathe out.

“I’m only teasin! Yer so silly!” He had picked himself up, carrying you along with him. Giving you a playful noogie. You just slouched in his arms, you were too hot to retaliate what had just happened. It was all so fast, and random-

He really is unpredictable. You hated it, Yet loved it.

_In the morning_

You laid quietly in bed. Bob had once again slipped away from you while you were sleeping. You hated when he was away. You needed his safety and attention just as much as he needed yours. Your tossing and turning were put on a hold, your vibrating phone now had all of your attention. You reached your arm out to the nightstand, attempting to reach for your phone. Finally the gadget was at the tip of your fingers, after celebrating your small victory with a raspy ‘yess’, you lazily pulled your phone towards you. Catching it in the palm of your hand mid-fall.

It was a friend of yours, informing you that the group was gonna be at a fancy diner.

“MmmMm bob. .” You tiredly called out his name, furrowing your brows and roughly closing your eyes.

“Bob!. .” Once again your call was to be unanswered.

You cussed under your breath, getting yourself up with frustration. You didn’t bother to look around the house. You needed to get ready. It had been a while since you’ve seen your fellow companions! You ate some cereal, ready to head out the door, when suddenly you bumped into someone.

“Now where do you think yer goin’” bob raised a thick brow, having a light frown across his face.

“I gotta head out.” You attempted exiting the house, only to for a hand to push you back inside.

“Where exactly?” He’d push himself in the way once more as you eagerly tried to walk out the door.

“With friends. Now come on I need to-“ he pushed you back, nearly tripping on your own feet.

“BOB!” You exclaimed, trying to push him out the way {he didn’t even move a inch}

“Come on now! You know it’s dangerous out there. What if ya get into trouble and I’m not there to save ya?” He proclaimed. He gave you a worried expression, it was clear as day he just didn’t want you to leave him alone.

“You can always tag along! I’m sure they won’t mind one bit!” You smiled in pure delight when bob ,hesitatingly, nodded in yes to your suggestion. As long as he is with you is all that mattered.

You both walked among the forest trail, bob tiredly followed along. It looked like he didn’t get a good amount of sleep, his lack of slumber engulfed his eyes. It worried you. You slowed yourself down, so bob can catch up with you. Once he was at your side, you matched your pace with his.

“Did you sleep last-night?” You asked in a mutter, stepping in the splotches of water the morning rain had left.

“Well, how the tables have turned~. Usually IM the one askin’.” He tittered, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his worn out jacket.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” You’d crease your brows, looking up at his loosened smile. He didn’t respond

“Did you sleep last-night?” Once again questioning him, your tone was a bit more stern this time.

“A ‘lil” he’d give a simple, careless answer. You crinkled your nose to his response.

“You’re always on my back about me taking care of myself, what about you?” Stated aloud, enough for people nearby to hear. His pace slowed down a bit.

“You know you matter just as much as I do?” Your voice was now smooth and velvety. He chuckled a bit, placing his hand on your arm, pulling to close to him.

“Darlin’. I-“ his sentence was cut off by a person throwing themselves onto you, snatching you from his hold.

“*Y/N*! YOU MADE IT THIS TIME!” Your friend squeaked in joy, other friends tagging along in the hug.

“Y-yep I made it!-“ you squeaked out. The impact was making it difficult to mutter out a single sentence.

“YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I MISSED YOU ,LIKE NO IDEA.” Another friend announced, practically screaming in your ear. Their grip loosened on you, gasping for air once you were let go from the harsh hold.

“Long time no see.” Your male friend had smirked, tilting his head in his shoulders.

“Yeah. It’s been a bit difficult for me these past couple of days.” You shrugged. Silence filled the atmosphere until one of your ally’s broke through the thick air of quiet.

“let’s go! let’s go! We have so much catching up to do!” The girl stated in much excitement. Bob stayed silent, not wanting to intrude on your reunion.

“Oh yeah! This is a old pal of mine!” You exclaimed, pulling bob gently towards the others.

“You can call me bob.” He stretched a opened hand across from them, giving each a warm shake of the hand.

“Hi bob! Im Taylor! And this is Jannette and Daniel!” He frantically shook his hand, placing her other on the back-side.

“Okay okay, that’s enough!” You hollered, shooing her away.

“That’s alright, lamb chops! She wasn’t doin’ no harm!” Bob had claimed, patting your back in assurance.

“Hehe.”

Taylor had muttered under her breath

“What’s funny?” Questionable of her giggle.

“Nothing! Come on let’s goooo!” She trailed off.

Catching up. Time; 5:37 it’s near dark.

You and your friends order something for you all to eat while you talked. Though, bob didn’t order along with you all. Stating that ‘he wasn’t hungry’. You tried Collaborating with bob, only for him to humbly decline. This wasn’t like him.

Once the food was brought to you and your companions, Taylor had interrupted you and your friends chittering with a question.

“Are you and bob dating?”

Her out of blue Interrogation left you opened mouth. Bob looked over to you, awaiting your response, along with your other friends.

“N-no! What would give you that idea?”

You’d wrap your gloves hands around your waist while questioning your friend.

“Just a thought that was floating about in my head.” Your friend let out a giggle as she twirled a string of her hair on the tip of her finger.

“Well that’s a relief.” Daniel said in a mutter. It had grabbed everyones attention, especially bobs.

“What would be so bad about me and ‘em gettin’ together? Hm?” Bob had snapped in question.

“I- I meant no offense sir! Just that-“ Daniel was interrupted.

“‘Just that’ what?. .” He’d seethed.

“Bob!” You roughly nudged at his shoulder, provoking him to stop his aggressive tone and behavior.

Bob huffed in annoyance giving a glare past the runt, then looking down at the table.

Once again silence prodded it’s way in you and your friends atmosphere.

“Ah, well now that, that’s other with-” You all narrowed eyes at the lass.

“Why don’t we catch up? *y/n* how have you been holding up?”

She asked in a smile, as she fiddled with her scarf.

“Well, after the break-in, I’ve mostly been tired.” You stated, cupping your hands and resting your head.

“Have they caught the guy yet?” Daniel asked in worry.

“No, and from this mornings news I really don’t think they find the sick bastard.” You frowned, pinching the bridge of your noise. Bob had took his large hand and placed it onto your back, gently rubbing across, assuring you that you’d be okay.

“Don’t look so gloomy, doll. Im sure they’ll catch the piece of work in no time!” He gave a toothy smile, his eyes half-lidded.

“Hope so.” You’d respond in a sigh.

~Time skip~

Time: 6:53. Time to head back.

“Oops! Looks like I have to go!”

She had excused herself, gently lifting herself up from the table as she gave you all a gentle smile in good-bye.

“I gotta go to. She’s my ride.”

Janette huffed. She wanted to stay and bond some more, but didn’t want to walk all the way home in the cold. “Daniel don’t forget.” She turned to the male, with a smirk then glancing at you. You were confused ,but it didn’t distract you from bidding each-other Adieu, waving bye sweetly.

Now it was only three. Bob, you, and Daniel. You three sat ever so quietly, and awkwardly at the table. Waiting for someone to break the blue of silence.

“Ahem. . About earlier. I’m sorry bob I really didn’t mean any offense.” Dan had said in regret. He was sorry for disregarding bobs feelings.

“That’s alright partner! I often let my mouth slip like that too! ‘Next time just becareful who you’re talkin’ to’.” He said in a velvety tone, muttering the last bit under his breath.

“Bob!” Once again hitting his shoulder in pardon.

“I din’ say anythin’!”

Bob threw his hands up in the air, elbows still resting on the table.

“It’s alright. Best I head out.”

Dan had said in grace, arising from his warm chair.

“Me and bob will be going too!” Pulling at bob arm to help your self up.

“I’ll wait outside, doll.” He slightly tittered at the bits of flush in your expression. You went to follow bob when suddenly you felt a force pull you back, two hands grabbed hold of your arms, stuffing them together towards your hips in a not-so-comfortable way.

“Y/n I- I have to tell you something.” His tone was scrawny. his voice had cracked mid sentence which made you giggle a bit. His hands slid down your arms in a nervous manner, till your hands rested in his. Bob was at the door witnessing every dreadful second of it.

“I-“ he struggled to speak through his cracking voice.

“I have feelings for you. .”

He said sweetly, his hands a bit sweaty from embarrassment, their face was painted in red. You were shock at what came out of his mouth. Your eyes flickered up and down his length.

“O-oh! That’s sweet Danny but-“ you lowered your and his hands from your chest. His nervous smile defaulting. You noticed his expression changing in a sad manner. You didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

“Look, maybe we can get to know each other a bit, then I’ll decide. Mk?. .” You’d let him down gently. Well at least he wasn’t in devastation, in fact he look relieved.

“O-okay! Bye *y/n*!” He skipped off, giggling to himself. Bob had watched him prance down the road in envy. Hoping a car would hit him at any second. His hatful thoughts were interrupted by a hand grazing on his chest.

“You alright, Bobby?” Your eyebrows picked up in worry.

“Yeah. . Let’s just go home.” Muttering, while he stuffed his hands into his pockets, walking off without you. This made you concern. His tone wasn’t as loud as it always was, and that look in his eyes. .

You ran up towards him, putting him to a stop as you scurried in-front of him.

“Whater’ you-“ halting mid sentence. You gave him a big hug, your warmth bled through the cloth of his torn-up jacket. Making sure your arms embraced every inch of him.

“I love you. .” You murmured in shyness. Bob looked down at you with a wild look in his eyes, a smirk found it’s way upon his face.

“What was that, lamb chops?~ ya need to speak up.” He teased, staring mockingly at your timid face, which was buried in his stomach.

Sheepishly replying, “I love you.”

This brought his smirk into a large smile, cyan flickered through the pupil of his eyes, gazing upon your own.

You picked you up swiftly, caring you in his arms he nuzzled his nose against yours.

“I love you too.”

What y’all think? Also I gave the friends names of my oc’s mostly because I didn’t want to use Characters from the show {most of them may or may not be dying later on in this story} and I didn’t want to just refer them as ‘friends’

Later on I’ll be drawing the friends and posting them on here, just so y’all can see how they look like. Also I apologize for not posting often, I had lost a bit of motivation in writing this story, and had gotten writers block. Anyways thank you for reading <3

#bob velseb x reader #bob velseb #spooky month #yandere story #yandere #i don’t know how to use tags #story #just a bite #enjoyyyy

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unpopularly-opinionated · 2 months

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You know, not that I'm suddenly supporting the idiotic "Vote Blue No Matter Who" rhetoric but I'm really curious to know, since a lot of those same people chanting that 4 years ago are now all up in arms against Biden, saying they won't vote for him because of his objectively correct pro-Israel stance. Like what exactly do y'all expect to happen? Do y'all seriously think Trump is gonna end support for Israel? Do you think another Democrat is going to spontaneously pop up to overthrow Biden? What's the play here exactly to get what you want?

Surprise surprise, suddenly when things aren't going your way, y'all realize that not voting or voting third-party is magically an option again.

But it's so fucking random at the same time too. Like y'all will spin a wheel of hot button issues and whichever one it lands on, that's your ride-or-die. If the candidate doesn't agree with you on that one single issue, over any of the other issues, then they're dead to you. I swear, Biden could come out and say with his chest that he hates black people, women and gays, but as long as he supports terrorists killing Jews then you're cool with him.

#random rant #politics #Joe Biden

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lucyandthepen · 2 years

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last night on earth - iii . | kdy

part i, part ii

you soon find out that there are more dangerous things than the flesh-eating undead during a nationwide implosion.

pairing: doyoung x reader verse: zombie apocalypse au rating: M for horror themes only ! genre/s: romance, horror/suspense warnings: brief but still present mentions of and sometimes depictions of violence, mentions of and possible character death, language word count: 7.6k

author’s note: been a hot minute since i’ve done anything on this blog thanks to real life issues but A PERFECT UPDATE FOR HALLOWEEN METHINKS!!!!!!!!!! enjoy october, everyone! it’s almost the end of the year and you made it through such a tedious year <3

“Is everyone okay?”

You turn to find the three newcomers in a heavily panting huddle; one of them is on the floor, his hand clutching his thigh. Kim Doyoung is in front of them, arms outstretched; it’s clear he wants to help them somehow, but he also doesn’t know how to. The result is him looking like a half-hearted scarecrow that’s, for some reason, breathing as heavily as them.

You can’t blame him, though; you notice that your own chest is heaving, and your grip on the umbrella is so tight you wouldn’t be surprised if your fingers made permanent dents on the handle.

The one who’d been urgently yelling at you to close the door is who responds with a brief but firm nod.

“Thank you,” his voice sounds coarse, like he hasn’t drunk water for days. “You saved our lives.”

“We just opened the door,” Doyoung says, voice back to its normal quiet and fairly calm state. “Hardly heroic.”

“Still more than what anyone else has done for us. We’d been trying to find someone who’d help us for more than an hour. We would have died if you hadn’t opened the door.”

Doyoung spares you a tiny glance that you don’t meet; you turn your back to him, now locking the deadbolt without protest or interruption. When you face the group again, your eyes land on the floor; the other guy hasn’t picked himself up, and his head is resting precariously on the knee of one of his companions, face contorted in pain.

“What’s wrong with him?” You ask, using the umbrella to point to him.

“Like I said,” the first guy’s voice grows a little softer, and maybe a little sadder. “We’d been running for a while. Those things that were after us… well, they were a lot more aggressive than we thought they would be. We got jumped near Gangnam Station, and one got its teeth into Sungchan’s leg. He’s more or less okay, apart from the fact that it’s been getting harder for him to walk, which is why we needed to find someplace safe to stop.”

Those things. The source of all of this chaos was still shrouded in mystery. Your mind briefly flashes back to your disgusting encounter with that cannibal businessman, digging his teeth into that poor lady’s skin, and you press a finger to your mouth briefly to stop the little egg you’ve ingested from coming back up. It’s Doyoung’s voice that brings you back to reality.

“Well, you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need. I’ll help you upstairs, and you guys can clean up and rest.”

He takes Sungchan’s legs, and the other two take him by the shoulders again; you cringe at the horrible sound of pain that he makes. They make some sort of haphazard human gurney, slowly easing him up the stairs. You’re still frozen for the most part, watching them haul what is essentially dead weight up the stairs while emotions assault you every which way. Deciding standing in front of the stairwell is pretty unproductive, you make your way back to the kitchen, ditching the umbrella back in its receptacle on your way.

The eggs are still on your plates; Kim Doyoung’s plate is almost as untouched as yours, and you pick up your fork, debating on whether or not to continue eating. It’d be a waste to not, especially since there’s not much food left and you’re slowly starting to realize that it really won’t be too easy to procure more food in the state the city is in at the moment. Still, you’re out of an appetite, and you don’t think it would be nice to offer this food to guests considering it’s been touched to some degree. The end result is you simply having a staring contest with your eggs, fork tightly in hand.

The house is quiet; someone, probably Doyoung, likely turned off the television, since you can’t even hear the faint drone of the news channel. You let out a heavy sigh and are a little surprised when it comes out so sharp that you actually feel a bit of pain in your nose.

You’re… angry. No — it’s not that intense of a feeling. Maybe frustration is better — frustration stemming from confusion is bubbling up in your stomach.

Your job is to protect the people; you know this, live by it as much as you can. That, on its own, made the choice you should have taken at the door simple. People were in trouble, and you should have helped them. But you also had a huge job; you had to protect this one particular person, and letting strangers in, risking his life in opening that door really was not the way to do it. Still, did that mean that you were supposed to prioritize Kim Doyoung’s life just because he was richer? Did not doing your assignment also mean you were doing something wrong? And were you really supposed to save everyone just because you felt that was your job?

The headache you gave yourself caused you to stab a piece of egg on your plate viciously before taking your plate up off the table. When you turn to head for the garbage disposal, though, you find Kim Doyoung standing at the doorway, watching you with an unreadable expression.

Nothing comes to mind for you to say, so you just place the plate down onto the counter.

“You don’t have to feel bad. About hesitating to open the door. I get it.”

“I don’t feel bad,” you lie, tossing the fork back onto the plate; the clatter it makes is loud and obnoxious. “I still don’t think we should have let them in. My job is to protect you.”

“I’m safe, aren’t I?” He lets out an incredulous laugh that lacks mirth as a whole. It’s once again a little uncharacteristic for him, but it comes and goes so quickly that you don’t have time to dwell on it either.

“You won’t be for long if I have to keep opening the door for everyone that knocks. You’re the number one priority here, and your house isn’t a fortress for everyone to hole up in. The more we let people in, the more you’re exposed to problems, and I’m supposed to stop that from happening.”

“You said yourself that you’re not my bodyguard. This is a temporary job.” He steps further into the kitchen. “You’re a cop. That doesn’t change just because you’re under my roof. If you want to protect people, protect them — people like them. I’d prefer it. It’d be for the best.”

“I can’t save everyone either. That’s just not how it works. If the mayor wants you alive, there has to be a good reason, and I’m not going to be the one that gets you killed by poor decisions.”

“And you’re going to be okay with that? Knowingly letting people die because you have to protect some guy you’ve never met and don’t care about?” He presses, his mouth giving way to the thinnest, slightest of frowns.

You’re taken aback, to say the least. You hadn’t been expecting gratitude, but you also weren’t expecting a lecture — at least not one from someone other than you. This only exacerbates your frustration, and you end up feeling slightly defiant.

“Yes, I’m okay with that,” it feels like a lie again, but your pride is swelling to immense proportions. The only thing you can do is tell yourself that your answer is the right one. “If that’s what it takes, then yes. Sacrifices are sometimes necessary.”

“Well, I’m not okay,“ he says firmly. “I can’t live knowing people died because of me. And I’m aware that I don’t deserve to be saved at the expense of others, so don’t go through the trouble.”

There it is again — that strange, darkly heroic aura he gives off, that he’s not worth protecting. The silence that falls between you is interrupted somewhat by the groans and footsteps coming from upstairs. The entire house feels stuffy now, and not just because there’s more than double the occupants there had been an hour ago.

“Look,” Doyoung manages to break the silence again, a heavy sigh leaving him. He’s rubbing his face, and when his hand falls back to his side, you note the darkness around his eyes. “Forget it. It’s… we’re all on edge, obviously. We just need to rest.”

“You go ahead,” your words are terse, voice distant and robotic. “I need to… do other stuff. Update my partner. I’ll clean up here.”

It sounds like a load of bullshit, and it’s clear that he doesn’t buy it, but he nods anyway, slowly, like he’s still trying to figure out what to say. Instead, he settles on the expected, mundane answer.

“Goodnight, offi — goodnight, _______________.”

You watch his back as it retreats, and you just stand in front of the counter for what feels like forever before you hear his door shut. Your body goes on autopilot, taking his plate and dumping the eggs, making a half-hearted mental note to figure out what the safest route to the nearest grocery store is after this.

You do the dishes, only slightly derailed by the fact that there is literally no dishwashing rack out; it kind of makes sense that he wouldn’t have to do the dishes if he doesn’t eat here, you realize, but the thought of that doesn’t curb the annoyance you feel when you have to scale the kitchen counter to reach the rack, which is perched on the highest shelf of one of his cupboards.

By midnight, you’re worse for wear; you head up to your room and take your phone out again, noticing that Youngho had called you a couple of times and even texted. When you try to call him back, though, it just rings out, which is kind of weird, since he usually has his phone at the ready for any emergencies. You want to worry, but the numbness that comes with tiredness convinces you that he’s probably just enjoying Kim Jungwoo’s hot tub or peeing, or something.

“Sorry,” you yawn into your phone after his voicemail beeps. “Had a situation over here. We have three new civilians to take care of. Unfortunately, Kim Doyoung’s house has become a human sausage fest.” You pause because you know he’s going to need a bit of time to laugh at that; a small smile grows on your lips too, despite it feeling inappropriate for the situation. That smile slips off the moment you hear soft, pained moans and muffled voices coming from the other room, and you realize that the injured guy is probably next door. “Front yard’s currently compromised, but I’ll check in the morning again, since there aren’t much disturbances, for some reason. Call me when you get this.”

Tossing your phone away, you roll over in bed. There’s still something nagging at you about what Doyoung had said, telling you that you need to give it some kind of attention, but your exhaustion causes you to reject it, and you fall into a dreamless but still somehow troubled sleep.

Youngho calls at around half-past eight, your ringtone jerking you awake unceremoniously. In your tossing and turning last night, you’d buried your phone under the excessive pillows on the bed, and the call drops before you can find it. A few seconds later, it starts up again, and you pat around hopelessly for another minute before you find it, answering the phone breathlessly.

“For fuck’s sake,” Youngho’s voice comes down the line, drowning out your hello. “I thought you died.”

“I thought you died!” You fire back, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “You didn’t pick up yesterday either.”

“I was enjoying the home theater. There’s no service down in that room, so I left my phone upstairs. The surround system is killer, by the way,” he explains nonchalantly. “What happened to you? You said you’d call me back. Not to sound like the needy boyfriend you’ve always wanted, but I was kind of hoping you’d at least give me a better explanation.”

“There wasn’t much else to tell.” You untangle yourself from the sheets, standing to stretch your back in front of the window. The sky is unusually dark for the morning, especially since fall has just begun; you wonder if there’s a storm coming later. “Three guys came looking for a place to stay. They said… something was after them, and one of them got injured.”

“And you let them in?” Youngho sounds incredulous.

“It wasn’t my decision! Kim Doyoung told me to, and it’s his house, so I didn’t have a choice.”

“And? They’re still there?”

“Well, yeah. What was I going to do, kick them out in the dead of night?”

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t seem right, _________________. They could be dangerous p—“

Your phone makes a shrill noise, and you jerk it away from your ear in surprise; the screen flashes a warning and then goes blank, effectively cutting Youngho off.

“Shit,” you mumble under your breath. You’d forgotten to charge your phone last night, and the battery had already taken a huge hit from all the game playing and music streaming you’d done outside of Kim Doyoung’s house. You’re plugging the charger into the wall when a soft knock comes from your door, and the man himself steps in.

“Morning,” his voice is back to that quiet, aloof tone, like last night hadn’t happened at all. “Sleep well?”

“Yes. You?”

“I slept all right.” He jerks to the door, expression morphing into something sheepish. “I was… standing outside for a little while. I didn’t want to interrupt you on the phone.”

“Oh. Um — it’s fine.” Your phone dings, signaling to you that it’s charging, and you leave it on the windowsill. “That was just my partner.”

“Is anything wrong at my brother’s house?”

“Apart from the fact that your brother is spoiling my partner? Not much.”

He cracks a smile before clearing his throat, tugging at the neckline of his sweater. You watch him move, his small hands fiddling with a stray thread that’s sticking out of the knit. The only relief you get in this situation is the knowledge that he’s feeling just as awkward as you are right now.

“I’m sorry,” he says, finally, and it catches you off guard. Your jaw slackens a little, and you grapple with what to say, but he raises a palm to stop you. “I know… I know your job is important to you. Your priorities are different, and… you seem dedicated to your job. The fact that I don’t want to be protected doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been told to protect me.”

Only three men in your life have apologized to you with any modicum of sincerity: your father, who’d pranked you so much into thinking that there was a monster under your bed that you’d lost days of sleep; Youngho, who’d accidentally shot you in the face with a paint gun during the department’s MT (you’re still not sure if this counts because he’d been laughing hysterically while doing so); and Kim Doyoung, who’s currently fiddling with his sweater and watching for your reaction.

“I…” Your voice comes out broken and gross, and you clear your throat too, but you don’t miss the fact that he straightens up a little. “It’s fine. I’m sorry too. Everything you said last night… you were right, and I knew it.”

“It’s still not my place to tell you what to do. You’re the expert in this case.”

“I’m really not,” you smile weakly.

“You still know more than me.”

“Look, it doesn’t matter now,” You dismiss the cursory part of the conversation with a wave. “The point is that everyone’s safe here. We should probably let go of last night’s guilt.”

“Letting go of guilt,” he muses; his gaze isn’t on you anymore. In fact, it doesn’t seem like he’s looking at anything in particular at all, and that somehow makes you feel even less comfortable. “Is it that easy?”

“What is feeling guilty going to do? There’s no real point anymore. We just have to keep moving forward.”

“Right,” he comes back down to earth, it seems, and his fingers resume their movements. “Moving forward. About that — we’ve got three more people in this house, and I don’t think I have anything to feed a single one. I don’t know how much further forward we can move without supplies.”

“Oh god,” you squeeze your eyes shut, kneading at your brow to relieve the sudden headache that comes with the arrival of another predicament. “Shit. Right — okay. You have… cars, don’t you?”

“Well, yes,” he replies slowly.

“Great. Can I borrow your least expensive one?”

“You can take whichever you want, but I—“

“I’ll be down in five, then,” you cut him off, looking over at your now-empty bag and wondering why you’d just asked for time when you don’t have any clothes to change into.

He nods, stepping back out of the room. Your phone dings to life, and you turn back to it; it starts vibrating off the hook with a steady stream of messages from Youngho, the screen blinking annoyingly in its attempt to catch up.

[ incoming ] 영호 - STOP HANGING UP ON ME [ incoming ] 영호 - I’m convinced you hate me [ incoming ] 영호 - tough bc you’ll never find a better, more attractive partner and also we’re stuck together for the whole year [ incoming ] 영호 - _______________ can you pick up stop being annoying it’s important [ incoming ] 영호 - are you watching the news??????????? [ incoming ] 영호 - I’m telling chief that I want a partner divorce you’re useless >:(

[ outgoing ] 영호 - my phone died you absolute pain in the ass!!!! [ outgoing ] 영호 - go eat your caviar croissants or something [ outgoing ] 영호 - what’s on the news

“__________________.” Your head snaps up to find Doyoung still standing by the door, hand on the doorknob. He’s twisting it idly, back and forth, the lock clicking every now and then.

“Oh — sorry,” you put your phone down, ignoring the fact that Youngho’s name keeps popping up on the notification banner right above a slew of middle finger emojis. “I thought you—“

“No, it’s fine, I —“

He stops when your ringtone goes off again; the piano introduction of Heroine is loud and a little embarrassing, and you pick up a pillow to suffocate as much of the melody as you can.

He smiles, but this time, it almost reaches his eyes. You think that Doyoung’s face suits smiles as long as they’re not half-hearted or sad.

“More Sunmi?”

“She’s a national treasure,” you defend yourself, pressing the pillow down harder against your phone.

“Right. I’ll be downstairs.”

Whatever he’d wanted to say leaves with him as he shuts the door quietly behind himself, and Youngho doesn’t miss the annoyance in your voice when you finally pick up the call. He takes his sweet time getting to the point of the conversation to get even at you.

“The news says it’s some kind of wack infection. They’re not sure how it’s spreading or how it’s starting, but these people aren’t in their right minds. Remember that guy we saw yesterday?” He’d said when he’d finally gotten to the brunt of his call. “I’m willing to bet my mom’s car he was sick too.”

“Then what do we do?”

“We just do what we can. There’s no cure, apparently; I mean, people are still trying to figure it out. All we know is that antibiotics obviously don’t work against viral cannibalism.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. I have to go out for some supplies, though.”

“So, duty relief for you today? At least you’ll get to drive a cool car before you get fired–”

You hang up at this point.

Five minutes later finds you jogging down the stairs, and you spot Kim Doyoung and the guy from yesterday who’d explained what had happened. They were both looking up at the television, wordless beside each other; the screen flashed different, horrible scenes — buildings on fire, abandoned cars crushed against one another, and bodies. So many dead bodies. You see a flicker of disgust flash across Doyoung’s face as the screen zones in on a single, rotten arm, and he turns off the television.

“So,” you try to sound like you’re not minutes away from throwing up either, and the two men turn to you. “Which car am I taking?”

Doyoung presents you with a key; it’s one of those button-heavy ones that don’t even need to be inserted into the ignition, and you take it gingerly.

“This is the fancy key to your least expensive car?”

“The price is irrelevant,” he frowns. “What matters is that it works, and it works fast. Minhyung’s coming, by the way. Minhyung-ssi, this is __________________.”

“I can drive,” the other guy, who you now know is Minhyung, volunteers. You nod, slightly relieved that you won’t have to be the one worrying about driving a car worth more than your life insurance among other things. “We checked outside, too; there’s no one there. I guess as long as they don’t see a target, they don’t care that much.”

“Great,” you push the keys into Minhyung’s open hand. “Let’s get going, then.”

Doyoung walks you both to the door, but instead of stopping by the doorway after he opens it, he steps out onto the porch with you. And down the stairs. And walks towards the car.

“Hold on,” you stop, and he stops too, alarmed. “You’re not coming with us.”

“What?” He sounds incredulous, like this is the first time he’s considered you might say that.

“It’s too risky.”

“We’re going to the grocery store. I’m sure I can handle that. ”

“And we don’t know what’s at that grocery store,” you frown. “You have to stay here. We’ll take care of your car. Well, I mean, he will.” You jerk your head at Minhyung, who’s slipping into the driver’s seat.

“It’s not about the car. I want to help you.”

“And I want to protect someone that’s willing to actually stay protected. Only one of us can get what we want, Kim Doyoung-ssi.”

He makes a face — at the return of the formal address, at your words in general, you weren’t sure. You sigh, looking back briefly at Minhyung, who’s just started up the car engine; the windows are tinted, but you can see through them enough to know he’s turned towards the two of you, waiting.

“Look, you called the shots last night, right? I listened to you, and you were right. We got to help people. Let me have this one.” You try to smile weakly, but you think it kind of comes across as a grimace. “At least I can go back to the department and say I did what I could to protect you this one time.”

He stares at you for what feels like ages, but the moment is punctuated with a sigh and a reluctant nod. He steps back up onto the porch, and you offer him a reassuring nod of your own before turning back to the car, tugging the back door open and tossing your uselessly empty backpack inside before going back up to the passenger’s seat.

Minhyung has the car radio on to the news, but it’s more static than voice, and you just end up dialing the volume back down before putting on your seatbelt.

“Is Doyoung hyung not coming with us?”

Hyung? How close were they already? “No. I told him to stay. He’ll be fine.”

Minhyung nods wordlessly, shifting gears into reverse and slowly pulling the car out of the garage. When he turns his face forward, though, he slams down on the break, and an undignified yelp of surprise leaves you.

Doyoung is at your window, a fist raised to rap lightly on the tinted glass. You roll it down, trying to keep the panic out of your voice when you ask, “What? What is it?”

“Make sure to come back,” he says simply. Your face scrunches up in confusion.

“Of course. It’s just a supply run. Your car will be back in no time; don’t worry.”

“No; that’s not what I — don’t —“ He sighs. “Don’t go back to the police station. Just come straight back here. Okay?”

“But I thought you said —“

“I know what I said last night. I’m saying this now.” There’s a hint of pleading in his voice. “Come back.”

“I — okay,” you agree, altogether befuddled. He lets go of the window, and you slowly roll it back up as Minhyung backs out of the driveway. You try not to keep eye contact with Doyoung, fiddling with your seatbelt even if it’s already fastened, but you know he’s standing at the porch, watching you both drive away with yet another unreadable expression.

You trade the radio noise in for the GPS once you’re firmly on the road, and it’s on silent; your guess is that Doyoung doesn’t like the annoying robotic voice telling him where to go, so you have to make sure Minhyung is looking at the screen from time to time. You like that he isn’t unbearably talkative and is fairly safe as a driver, and you think he looks smart enough, which is always a good bonus, considering that you’re used to Youngho as a driver and as a human being.

The residential area of Apgujeong doesn’t have any big marts nearby, so you end up having to look for CUs and Ministops on the map. Even the nearest one is a good twenty-minute drive away, which seems hardly practical considering you’re in a heavily residential area. Even if you like that it’s quiet, though, it feels wrong and pretty awkward that nothing breaks the extended silence, so despite the fact that you don’t particularly enjoy small talk, you start anyway.

“Your friend,” Minhyung breaks his gaze away from the road to glance at you before turning back. “Sung… chan? Is he okay?”

“I’m not sure,” he admits, tongue peeking out nervously to wet his lips. “We’re not… we’re technically not friends. He and that other kid — Donghyuck — go to the same university, I think. We were just in the same bookstore when the fighting and madness broke out.”

“Oh. So you… you work at a bookstore?”

“Me? No; I was just there looking for some books for research.”

“Are you a teacher, then?”

“No,” he chuckles the way you would expect; it’s a deep, baritone rumble that’s fairly calming and not at all like the wheezing Youngho does that makes you want to smack him upside the head. “I’m working on a novel.”

“That sounds pretty neat. What about?”

“Well it’s — it’s complicated.” His fingers tighten a little on the wheel. “My editor’s been asking me to write a romance novel — you know, since a lot of people are into that these days. But it’s just… it’s not something I can write about well. I’ve never had a real interest in romance novels, so everything I make just comes out bland.”

“So what do you like to write about?”

“Science fiction, mostly.”

“Anything I may have read before?”

“Depends. How prolific a reader are you?”

“I’m not even sure what prolific means,” you laugh.

“My books aren’t that big. Mostly because so much editing beyond my reach happens to them, they never look like what I’d wanted them to in the first place.” He sighs, turning into a smaller street. It’s equally empty here, for some reason, but it doesn’t feel like the safe, quiet neighborhood it’s supposed to be. You see a lone woman limping down the sidewalk, and you wonder, briefly, if she’s sick too. You don’t get a good look at her face, though, and Minhyung’s driving at a speed that doesn’t give you much opportunity to look back, so you let it go. “What about you?”

“I’m a cop. I actually got promoted to corporal fairly recently.” See: yesterday, but you don’t think it’s necessary to specify this.

“That’s great; congratulations,” he throws you a small smile. “No wonder you’re so protective of Doyoung hyung.”

“Yes, well, it’s kind of my job to be.”

“I can see that. I’m sure he appreciates it. Is that why you didn’t want him to come along?”

“Yeah. I don’t really know if he gets that helping out here more is just going to put him in more danger.”

“Maybe he does, though,” Minhyung’s eyes flit to the screen again; the destination is growing closer. “Maybe he just wants the chance to protect you, too?”

You sit there, staring at the road in front of you, trying to decipher what that means. The CU sign comes into view, and Minhyung slows the car as you approach the entrance.

“But,” you start carefully. “Why would he?”

“I’m not a romance expert, but isn’t that normal for couples?”

“It is,” you say, your voice small so that he can’t hear how close you are to imploding from embarrassment. “Except we’re not a couple.”

Not for the first time today, Minhyung steps down hard on the brake. You both lurch forward, but no one makes a sound this time; your bodies just lean forward silently and snap back against the seats with soft thuds.

“Oh. I thought… because you were staying in his house…”

“I’m just here on official business,” you swallow hard, staring out your window so that you both can avoid feeling even more awkward than you already do. “From the police department.”

“He said… his girlfriend didn’t like people going into her room, so I thought —“

“Yeah, that’s… that’s not my room. Sorry.”

“Oh.” His voice trails off into almost nothingness. “Sorry.”

He kills the engine, but the both of you just sit there in silence for a little while, letting the strange atmosphere ebb away. Thankfully, he doesn’t press the conversation further, and you step out first, with him following your lead. Your hand is at your waist, fingers brushing against the stock of your gun, but there are no disturbances for the most part, and you relax somewhat. You and Minhyung both head for the store; the little bell that usually jingles to announce a new customer is on the ground outside.

The inside is fairly empty, too; there are canned goods and flyers on the floor. The microwave is half-open, and you notice that a now-cold sausage is on the dish inside. You start picking up the canned goods, stacking them onto a basket while Minhyung keeps the door open with his foot, bending down to push six-pack bundles of water outside near the front wheel of the car.

“You think anyone’s in?” He’s whispering, and you don’t know why it feels appropriate to move as soundlessly as possible even if the place is deserted. Shaking your head, you pass him the basket of canned goods, and he starts nudging the water towards the trunk of the car with his feet so he can load them.

You wander down the aisles, tugging on everything you think you might need — tissues, snacks, toiletries — piling them all up in your arms. The area feels unsettling, though, so you try to pick up the pace, stuffing anything useful between your arms. There’s a weird noise that hangs over the convenience store, and you realize later on that it’s radio static coming from the set behind the cashier’s counter. You guessed whoever was manning the till was in too much of a rush to leave to turn off the radio. Somehow, though, it makes you feel even more uncomfortable, and you quickly hand off the items to Minhyung, who’s having as much trouble cradling the things in his own arms as you.

You hear it during your second round, when you reach out for a jumbo-sized bottle of shampoo on top of one of the shelves — a low groan that can’t be radio static, can’t be the wind, can’t be Minhyung from outside. A horrible chill runs up your spine as you turn towards the sound slowly, holding your breath.

A man is standing by the staff room entrance on the other end of the shop; his posture is weak, arms limp by his sides, and he continues to make incoherent noises. It’s clear by his wrecked uniform that he’s an employee here, and it’s even clearer by the bloodstains on the uniform that he’s definitely not okay.

Thankfully, his back is turned to you, and whatever had drawn him out of the staff room, he clearly couldn’t find; he’s still whipping his head here and there, trying to spot something anomalous, but he hasn’t found the sense to turn yet. Your arm drops, foregoing the shampoo bottle, and you slowly, carefully back away, your fingers twisted into knots as you pray for safety.

You’re almost by the door when the worst happens; your left foot, dragging backwards against the floor, catches a stray flier and creates a loud, horrible crumpling sound.

The employee turns his head back to a degree way more than any normal human can, spotting you between the aisles; he lets out a shriek as his body turns the rest of the way with him, and he charges straight at you, arms outstretched.

“Shit,” your fingers fly to your gun, but he’s moving so quickly that all your body can think of is fleeing. You almost slip on the flier, managing to yank the door open, only to bump into Minhyung, who’s on his way back in and oblivious to what’s happening.

“________________, what —“

“Move!” You don’t even have time to apologize for pushing him back so hard that he stumbles a little; the rabid employee smacks into the door, and something crunches sickeningly as he does.

“Oh, fuck me—“

This feels like a horrible semi-dejavu moment, in which you’re yelling at Minhyung to get the car door open, and he’s panicking so much that he has no choice but to tell you to shut up while he fumbles around for the keys — except he doesn’t have a gun, and the employee doesn’t have an old lady to be distracted by.

He comes barreling out of the convenience store, and he notices Minhyung first — Minhyung, who’s so frazzled by everything that he’s taken out what appears to be his apartment keys instead of Doyoung’s car keys and is trying to fit it into a keyhole in the driver’s side door that doesn’t exist. The employee lunges, and Minhyung effectively drops whatever he’s holding, running backwards with a panicked yell. This doesn’t work out well for him; his foot gets caught in a sizable crack in the road and he falls backwards.

You leave the passenger’s side, running around the hood of the car while you take out your gun; in your hurry, you don’t get to aim well, and the first shot you fire misses and hits one of the backseat doors of Doyoung’s car. You let out an incoherent groan of frustration that’s drowned out by Minhyung’s more urgent noise; he’s trying to weaponize a bundle of water bottles, but it’s too heavy for him to fling in this position.

You take another shot; it hits the employee square in the leg, and the close proximity causes the bullet to go straight through. Another disgusting noise sounds as he crumples to the ground, but he’s hardly demotivated, using his elbows and one working knee to advance towards your companion. Another shot — it goes through his chest, but it’s like he doesn’t notice.

“The head, the head!” Minhyung yells, scrambling back on his palms and ass. “Aim for the head, _____________!”

You raise your arms slightly, taking another blind shot; it’s not a perfectly centered one, but it blows the top off the employee’s head and ends his advance effectively. Minhyung looks up at you, dazed and covered in a smattering of blood.

“Thanks — oh, god,” he has to turn away to retch, scooting further from the now-limp body and patting around for his apartment keys blindly. He takes your outstretched arm once he finds them, hauling himself up.

“How did you know a shot in the head would kill them?”

“I didn’t,” he doesn’t let go of your hand, looking a little pale, like he’s trying not to think about how he’d just seen someone die in high definition. His grip on your fingers is painful. “It just seemed like the most logical place to aim.”

He finally locates the keys in his pocket, taking one look back at the body and the water bottle pack that’s now covered in blood too. He grimaces, shaking his head, like he’s convincing himself not to go back for it. You have to pry your hands free from his hold before he ducks into the car.

The ride home is absolutely silent; neither of you make an attempt to turn on the radio this time, and the twenty minutes going back seems like an eternity. You notice that Minhyung is driving even slower now, for some reason, but this doesn’t bother you.

The urge to call Doyoung hits hard, for some reason; it seemed like a natural course of action, especially since you needed to cushion the blow his emotions would probably take after seeing the hole you made in his car door, but you realize you don’t have his number. You think about calling Youngho too, but you just don’t move, staring dully at the road ahead until Doyoung’s house comes back into view.

Minhyung jogs to the back of the trunk to open it up while you make for the door, ringing the doorbell. When it opens, you’re surprised to see the other kid from yesterday in front of you.

“Where’s Doyoung?” You demand at the same time that he asks, “Where’s Minhyung hyung?”

There’s louder, more pained groaning coming from the second floor. “Doyoung-ssi’s upstairs. Minhyung hyung,” he calls out, pushing past you to help Minhyung with the supplies.

You take two steps at a time to get to the second landing, noticing that Doyoung’s bedroom door is open. When you peek in, though, he isn’t there; the television is on again, and the news anchor is repeating warnings. Stay indoors. Ration your food. Arm yourselves as much as you can. This is serious, biological warfare.

Hushed voices fill the first floor as the front door shuts; you look down from the banister to see Minhyung and Donghyuck enter the kitchen, cans and water bottles in hand; the rest of the supplies are by the umbrella stand.

“Doyoung-ssi?” You call out.

A moment later, his head pops out from the room next to yours; his face looks grim, but he smiles at you nonetheless.

“You’re back. Did you get what we needed?” He steps out, quietly shutting the door behind him. His free hand is gripping an electronic thermometer and a capped syringe wrapped in a wet towel, and you eye them dubiously.

“Uh — yeah, there’s food downstairs. What’s all that for?”

“It’s for Sungchan. We’re just monitoring his condition. Was the trip okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No, I’m fine. Minhyung’s covered in blood downstairs, but,” you raise a hand to still his worry. “He’s fine, too. Maybe a little traumatized, but physically fine.”

“Oh, good.” He nods. “I’m glad for that. Thank you for making the run. And, well,” he inhales, thumb running along the length of the thermometer. “Thank you for coming back.”

“Just doing my job,” you smile tightly.

“I know.” Something like ceramic crashes inside Sungchan’s room, and Doyoung turns his attention to it. “I’ll just… I’ll get that cleaned up.”

“I’ll help them move the supplies downstairs.”

You both nod, but you watch him go first; it’s only when the door shuts that you head downstairs. Donghyuck and Minhyung have moved most of the stuff, leaving only a few bottles of shampoo and a couple of canned soups by the door. You pick them up and walk into the kitchen, finding the two sorting cans into Doyoung’s relatively empty cupboards. It’s funny that Minhyung’s found himself on the counter, trying to stuff cup noodles into the top shelf where the dish rack used to be. You probably looked equally ridiculous last night.

“Minhyung, you really need to go get changed. Nobody wants undead CU employee blood on their ramyun.”

He chuckles softly, slipping off the counter. “That was the last I could fit up there, anyway. Donghyuck will help you sort the rest.” Minhyung makes to clap Donghyuck on the back, but the kid evades his touch, looking at Minhyung’s bloodstained palm like he’s expecting it to grow eight extra fingers. “Right. Sorry.”

You divvy up the food in relative silence, only talking to introduce yourselves and agree on what to set aside for lunch. He keeps turning his attention to the door, like he’s waiting for someone to appear.

“Your friend — how is he? Is he getting any better?”

“I don’t really know,” he admits, emptying a can of soup into a pot and placing it onto Doyoung’s previously untouched induction stove. “Doyoung-ssi’s been checking up on him. I don’t think any of us know what to do, but he said his grandmother had some special medicine for infections that he could try on the wound.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“It’s deep, and he’s been running a high fever we’ve been trying to break since last night. He barely talks, too, and he won’t eat anything. We tried a couple of crackers he had in his bag for his hypoglycemia, but he wouldn’t take them.” Donghyuck sighs, dumping in a little too much salt and pepper into the pot. “I don’t even know what’s happening. We were just there for comic books.”

You help him ladle the soup into bowls before volunteering to call everyone down for lunch, jogging back upstairs. Doyoung clearly hasn’t left Sungchan’s room yet, since his door is in the same position as you’d found it and the television is still going. You shout down to Donghyuck to turn the den’s television on, deciding that he could listen to the news during lunch instead of leaving his bedroom TV on uselessly.

The remote control is on the edge of the bed, and you only need to take three huge steps to get in and reach for it, but it still is technically trespassing, even if all you want to do is help the man conserve some electricity. Still, before you turn the television off, you catch a bit of what the news anchor is saying.

“Remember, it’s imperative that you stay indoors. Avoid contact with these creatures. The virus spreads quickly through the bloodstream, and experts have still not found a cure. Keep any arms or improvised weapons close to you, and make sure to stay away from —“

Your blood runs cold, and your fingers tighten around the remote control.

The virus spreads quickly through the bloodstream.

Your feet think faster than you, it seems, carrying you out of Doyoung’s room. You bump into a freshly-bathed Minhyung, and he raises his palms up like he’s being arrested.

“What’s with you and all this running?” He manages to ask before you shove him away, skidding down the hall as you pull out your gun. You rattle the doorknob only to find that it’s locked.

“Cover your ears,” you snap at Minhyung, who barely has time to do so before you aim the gun at the door and take a shot.

You can tell why Youngho likes the idea of busting down a locked door; the dramatic effect is so powerful, and you’ve now experienced it firsthand. You don’t have the time to dwell on how cool it is, though, especially since the smell of rotting flesh is what hits you the moment you push the door open.

Doyoung is seated, frozen at the edge of the bed; the syringe is still in his hand, but it’s uncapped now. Sungchan is lying back, pale and sweaty, his pant leg rolled up to reveal a deep, bite-shaped wound on his calf.

“_______________, what the hell are you —“ Doyoung starts, but he falls into a stunned silence when you point the gun at him.

“Come here. Stand behind me.”

“If you’d just explain why you’re holding a loaded gun in my guest bedroom—”

“Can you, for once, do what I’m asking you to do without the running commentary?” You hiss, and he stands slowly. You get a better view of Sungchan’s face, and it’s not pleasant; he’s biting down on his lip, but it’s clear the pain is too difficult to contain, and his eyes are constantly rolling to the back of his head. “Come here.”

“Just calm down.” Doyoung eyes the gun warily. “I have to help him.”

“Doyoung-ssi —“

“He’s hurt, ___________________. Just let me give him the medicine.”

“He’s going to turn into one of them.” You swallow hard. “I heard it on the news. He’s going to die, and then he’s going to turn into… into one of those things.”

Doyoung carefully sets down the syringe on the bedside table, slowly walking over to you. Instead of getting behind you, though, he places his small hand gently on yours; with a little added pressure, he pushes the gun down to face the floor. You look up at him, frustrated and confused, these feelings only exacerbated by the inexplicable calm on his face.

“I know he will.”

#doyoung x reader #doyoung x you #nct x reader #nct x you #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 x you #doyoung drabbles #doyoung imagines #doyoung scenarios #nct imagines #nct scenaios #nct drabbles #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 drabbles #nct 127 imagines #ficscafe

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alittlepudge-neverhurtnobody · 2 years

Text

soft to be strong {wip}

far from done (and no idea when i’ll finish it tbh), but essentially: after David learns about Rachel at the barbecue, he does some internet sleuthing and learns that Patrick used to be fat. which is, of course, very hot information ... which gets even hotter when it turns out that Patrick wants to gain that weight back.

[content warning: this fic is lighthearted but it does also briefly discuss eating disorders/past restriction, past instances of fatphobia, and body image issues.]

1 | best all-around (set after 4.07 “the barbecue”)

It isn’t hard to find Rachel on Facebook. She and Patrick are still friends, and it kills David how he can just see it — Patrick, falling in and out of love with her for years, not bothering to remove her from his friend list because they’d always come back to each other eventually. It’s sickening. But it’s also sweet in a way that makes him ache deeply for something he’ll apparently never have.

David hasn’t had an active Facebook account in years, unless you count the ghost account he keeps under a fake name so he can keep tabs on disastrous people he knew in college to feel better about himself. He tried to stalk Patrick’s profile using this account when they first met, but Patrick’s Facebook is locked down, only a few infuriatingly professional headshots visible to outsiders. Rachel’s, however, is wide open whether you’re friends with her or not, so David’s in the clear — if he slips and accidentally friends her or likes a photo, he’ll incriminate the fictional Trey Lavender and not himself. He scrolls through Rachel’s profile pictures, all her tiny redheaded girl-next-door perfection on display. The perfect match, he thinks, his heart sinking with Titanic proportions, for the sweet-faced star of the baseball team, no doubt voted Best All Around in high school, because what else could Patrick ever be than Best All Around —

Oh my god, stop, David tells himself, slapping the phone down. You’re being maudlin, and four straight days of maudlin are depths that we REALLY do not care to sink to at this time.

He forces himself to pick the phone back up and, because he’s a glutton for punishment, he keeps scrolling through, just to see. This whole secret chapter of Patrick’s life is so easy and difficult to imagine all at once, and he keeps trying to fill in the blanks with his imagination.

Patrick enters her profile pictures a few updates back, with one arm slung around Rachel’s tiny, slender, perfect body, grinning beatifically for the camera. There’s something different about him, thinks David, squinting, his hair or his teeth or —? So many of these pictures are close-ups, and he knows Patrick’s face so well that it’s difficult to look at it objectively. But then he lands on one photo, a full torso shot, dated six years back, that makes the difference clear.

Like, abundantly clear.

Patrick is fat in these pictures, like really fat, and the further David scrolls back, the heavier he gets: double chin, plump arms, big soft belly pressing against T-shirts and baseball tees, the shape of wide fat rolls visible through button-downs and under ties. Other things are different, too — there are more pictures of his full body on display. He has wire-framed glasses in a few shots. He wears a lot of graphic tees. His hair is longer, thick auburn curls that offset the pink of his round cheeks, hair David instantly wishes he could bury his fingers in, hair he wishes he could stroke and pull and tousle. But. Rewind. Patrick was fat, and David lowers the phone again, slow and with shaking hands, because it’s hot as fuck.

He is gonna buy Patrick so many giant cookies if they ever figure this out. Fuck a four-month anniversary, David’s gonna start celebrating them by the day.

But for now, he just looks, and looks, and looks.

***

2 | the talk (set after 4.08 “the olive branch”)

He has bigger fish to fry, obviously, like making Patrick actually like him again, but those pictures nag in the back of his mind for the next several days, until, finally, he and Patrick crash into bed together, an hour post-David’s star turn lip-synching to Tina Turner for all of the town square to see.

They make out languidly for a while, David making sure to keep everything slow and unintimidating, unwilling to scare Patrick off so soon after winning him back. He slides a hand over Patrick’s belly, where there’s a soft push of pudge that David always just assumed was, like, metabolism-slowing-down-in-his-thirties weight. Admittedly, mostly to make himself feel better about having the same little bulge, but whatever. It’s perfectly plausible.

But now, David’s mind stampedes back to those Facebook pictures. Is this — leftover? Is this the bit of weight Patrick could just never seem to lose? The same stubborn twenty pounds David can never shake off?

It works his arousal like a crank, and he presses against Patrick’s belly harder, gently squeezing the handful of flab. “I really like this,” he murmurs into Patrick’s neck, and Patrick laughs softly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s very sweet.”

“Used to be a lot more of it,” says Patrick, and David clocks instantly that Patrick goes still as he says so, watching David intently. David squirms, thumbing at Patrick’s belly, trying to remain inconspicuous.

“But you know that,” says Patrick, just short of a question, and David bites his lip, shamefaced.

“I may have looked up Rachel on Facebook.”

“David …” Patrick starts in his I-can’t-believe-you voice, but the facade cracks after a moment, and he pulls himself up to a sit, that little bit of belly bunching at his waist. David follows suit, his lip still pinned between his teeth.

“I should have known you would,” Patrick says, hanging his head a little. His chin doubles a tiny bit, a detail David has noticed before and adores, but it never occurred to him that — there might have ever been more. “There was a lot to be curious about, I guess, and I know you don’t do well with — having to fill in details on your own like that.” He exhales hard. “Though honestly, I’m kind of surprised you hadn’t already looked.”

“Well, I could have, if your profile wasn’t like Fort Knox,” David retorts. Then, realizing he’s given himself away: “Fuck.”

“Unbelievable,” says Patrick, a tiny smile playing on his lips for a fraction of a second before falling away. “So … you saw.”

David nods, like he’s walking on a tightrope. He talks about his belly bulge all the time, mostly complaining so Patrick will compliment him, but he’s never heard Patrick say a word about his own. He’d kind of assumed he didn’t care about it one way or another — that doesn’t seem like the thing that could bother someone as secure in his skin as Patrick. But the guarded look on Patrick’s face right now suggests that actually, he cares a lot, and David braces. He’s not sure if he can handle being romantically involved with someone who’s contemplating a weight loss journey.

“I saw,” he says finally. “I thought you looked really good.” He swallows hard, licks his lips. “Like, really good.”

Patrick’s eyebrows leap. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” David manages. “And I’m not just saying that, you know, the way I want you to just say things about my body sometimes. Like I’m not just — saying it for your benefit. I mean it. You looked very good, and, um … that’s my truth.”

Patrick’s whole self deflates, his guards sliding back down, and David isn’t sure what to make of it. Was this — the right thing to say? The absolute wrong thing?

“Really?” asks Patrick, and David thinks he sounds — hopeful?

“Really,” says David, scrubbing his hands together nervously. “I looked at those pictures for, um, definitely too long. Your hair, also, looked excellent. You should think about growing it out again. You have curls? Who knew?”

Patrick’s face is softening into a grin, his cheeks pushing up, eyes crinkling. “Yeah,” he says. “I have curls.”

He fits an arm around David, who’s still not one hundred percent certain what’s going on, and kisses his temple lightly. “Permission to tell you a story about me and Rachel?”

“Granted,” says David, pressing closer, “but retaining rights to revoke.”

“Fair enough,” Patrick allows, and his hand drifts up to play with the hair at the nape of David’s neck. “So, I’ve been fat for most of my life. Like, almost all of it, honestly. And Rachel — she wasn’t wild about it. She was always concerned about my health, always on me to exercise more, work it off, set these little goals that we were supposed to celebrate, or something. And — don’t get me wrong, I like being active. I like exercising. I was fat when I played baseball in college, and I was fat when I got into hiking, and I did those things just fine. But that wasn’t enough for her, and it always felt like she was just kind of … waiting for me to see the light and realize that I was wrong. We broke up over that a few times.”

He clears his throat. “But I lost the weight, eventually, because I was hanging onto what felt like the perfect heterosexual life, and I thought I was going to lose that if I didn’t finally do this one thing for her. But honestly, my body doesn’t really like being thin. Or heterosexual, for that matter.” He cracks a smile, laying his hand on his belly. “It doesn’t come naturally to me. It doesn’t feel like me. So this is … this is good news, David.”

David’s hand is back on Patrick’s belly instantaneously, covering Patrick’s hand with his own.

“So you wouldn’t mind,” says Patrick hesitantly, “if I wanted to gain that weight back?”

David’s mind short-circuits. “Oh, God, no. Oh my god. I’d help you. Where’s my phone? I’ll order you dinner right now. What do you want? Two dinners?”

His face is flaming, his heart going faster than a Rick Owens piece on eBay, and Patrick bursts out laughing, deep and genuine, and he catches David’s face in his hands, kisses him hard.

“Two’s a good start.”

***

3 | the scale (set after 4.10 “baby sprinkle”)

David pounces on the package that arrives at the store the next day, then drags Patrick into the back room to open it together.

“So, I got us something,” says David as he slices the box open. “A home furnishing, if you will.”

“For my home?” asks Patrick. His arms are crossed over his chest, which calls a lot of attention to his belly pooch. “What kind of furnishing?”

“For your room,” David clarifies, unwrapping the item. “And, um. Not really for anyone else’s use but yours.”

“David,” says Patrick warningly, “if you sent some kind of sex toy to the store —”

“No,” David backtracks. “No, oh my god. Well — I suppose that depends on how you define —”

“What is it, David?” asks Patrick loudly, and David gives up, letting the brown paper and bubble wrap flutter dramatically to the hardwood floor.

“It’s, um, a scale,” says David, hugging it to his chest. “That I might have overnighted from Amazon.”

“And you sent it here,” says Patrick, his mouth on the edge of a laugh. “To our place of work. That seems … appropriate.”

“Okay, well,” says David, shedding some of his cool, “it was that or send it to the motel and risk my father or Alexis opening it and kicking off a fun game of Twenty Questions, or send it to you and risk Ray opening it, which —”

“No, nope,” says Patrick, hands up, backing down. His cheeks are bright red, and if David weren’t clutching the scale, he would gather Patrick in his arms just to kiss him and see how much more he could make him flush. “You know what? You’re right. Here was the best option.”

“Thank you,” says David. “I don’t intend to use it here. I mean, unless you —”

“Nope!” says Patrick, clapping David on the shoulder. “Drawing a hard line there, David. Keep it in your pants.”

“All right, all right!” says David, a little bit shrilly. “If you don’t want it, I can send it back!”

Patrick’s face softens. “Oh, I want it,” he says, crowding David toward the wall, hands on his hips. David braces for the soft cushion of Patrick’s belly against his own, but the scale absorbs the contact instead, which is somehow maybe hotter? David hasn’t owned a scale in ten years or so, for good reason, and he definitely never thought his primary emotion upon acquiring one now would be turned on.

“And later,” says Patrick, up close now, his lips brushing David’s neck, “I’m gonna take you home with me, and we’re gonna get that scale all set up in my room, and you’re gonna undress me, and then we’re gonna see what we’re working with.”

David is having a very difficult time breathing. He has a very difficult time breathing for the rest of the workday.

Later, safely locked in Patrick’s bedroom, a chair wedged under the doorknob as an extra Ray deterrent, he undoes Patrick’s pale blue Oxford shirt, pausing where his stomach strains against the buttons.

“So … how big were you?” he asks Patrick in a hushed voice, and Patrick makes a soft noise in the back of his throat.

“Oh, man, I was almost four hundred at my biggest,” he says, and David’s knees go weak.

“Oh my god,” he breathes, and the corner of Patrick’s mouth quirks up.

“Maybe three-eighty, three-ninety. It’s been a few years, my memory could be off.”

David’s hand finds the chub of Patrick’s side, grabs. “You know that I’m very attracted to you now, and at any size, any version of you, but —”

“But?” Patrick teases, brushing his lips against David’s. “But you’d prefer me fat?”

“Not prefer,” says David breathlessly. “But — it would be very hot. To see you at that size.”

He undoes the last two buttons on Patrick’s shirt, weighing that little belly in his hands. “What are you now, do you think? If you can guess?”

Patrick blows out a breath. “I don’t know. I was at, like one-sixty, at my lowest? But that was … God. A year ago? A little less? And I haven’t really been … sticking to my diet.”

David’s fingers curl through Patrick’s belt loops. “Okay, as hot as that is, I’d really appreciate if we could avoid the word ‘diet.’”

Patrick doesn’t miss a beat, and David loves him for that. “Oh, yeah, of course. If anything about this is weird or triggering for you, just let me know, okay? We don’t have to .. make this a thing.”

“Oh, no,” says David. “My body stuff is fully focused on me. Well, with the exception of … diet talk in general. But you’re fine. This is …” He gestures abstractly. “Very hot in an entirely separate way. I don’t exactly get how they coexist, but, but rest assured, I am very into making this a thing.”

Patrick locks his hands at the small of David’s back. “But you’ll tell me if something’s not okay?”

David bobs his head. “As long as you don’t want me on that scale, I’ll be fine. And, um, if you could hide it somewhere after I leave? And just make sure I don’t know where it is? Because otherwise I will be tempted to use it, and that will not end well.”

“Of course,” says Patrick, but it’s rapidly occurring to David that he never considered that Patrick might have hangups about his weight, potentially of a completely different genre than David’s own, and that he might not feel great about getting on a scale, either.

“Though I’m realizing now,” he backtracks hastily, “that I didn’t ask if you were okay with the scale, so if you’re not, just let me know? I just assumed that — since you wanted to, um, get bigger, that you —”

“It’s fine, David,” Patrick interrupts, and David sags with relief. “That’s not a thing for me. I would have told you already, or set a condition when we were talking last night. I appreciate you asking, even after the fact, but — it’s not a problem for me.”

He nods encouragingly, and David nods back, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

“So you were one-sixty at your lowest?” he prompts, willing the attention off himself, and Patrick nods, thank god.

“Right.” Patrick smooths a hand over his belly. It’s mounded sweetly beneath his undershirt, bracketed by the undone halves of his collared shirt. There’s just enough that it sits right on his waistband, pushing out a tiny bit without rolling over, and the white cotton of his undershirt is stretched so snugly over it that David can see the dip of his navel. “But I’ve definitely gained some since then, because I haven’t been trying to keep it off, and … between you and me, David, my jeans are getting a little tight.”

“Oh, I know,” says David, slipping a fingertip between Patrick’s undershirt and waistband. “You’re heavier than you were when we got together.”

A smile quirks up one corner of Patrick’s mouth, and he pulls David in for a kiss. “You’re keeping track?”

“How much effort it takes to get into your pants? Um, yes, I’m keeping track.”

“Go ahead,” says Patrick, his lips brushing David’s. “Show me.”

David undresses him slowly, helping him wriggle out of his jeans until he’s just standing in his undershirt, socks, and boxers. He thumbs over the swells of pudge at Patrick’s sides, the soft rounds of his hips. Patrick rolls his shoulders, and his undershirt rides up, exposing the creamy curve of his belly. If David watches carefully, he can see that curve jiggle a little, sometimes, especially if Patrick’s just in a T-shirt instead of a button-down.

He holds his breath as Patrick steps onto the scale. It beeps in acknowledgement, and David swallows hard. He hears Patrick inhale, a little sound he can’t parse as excitement or disappointment.

“What is it?” he chances, and Patrick shakes his head.

“Just — there was a time when I couldn’t physically see the number.”

“Oh,” chokes David, and when he leans in to read the little red numbers on the display, his throat goes even drier when he sees that it says 218. Not a particularly large number, but — that means that Patrick has put on almost sixty pounds within the last year.

“A little higher than I thought,” says Patrick, shifting his weight. The number flickers, but remains the same. He sounds eager, energized, and David catches him grinning when he finally yanks his gaze away from the display. “Good starting point, though. I didn’t realize I was doing that much damage just …”

“Just what?” asks David desperately, pulling him off the scale and into his arms. “What have you been doing?”

Patrick shrugs, going a little pink. “Just eating whatever I want, I guess? I don’t restrict anymore. And I try to get out and move a few times a week, so probably at least a little of this is muscle. But I can eat a lot, so … I guess sixty pounds really isn’t a surprise.”

He isn’t meeting David’s eyes, and David grabs his shoulders, gentle but firm. “What?”

Patrick bites his lip. “I just don’t want this to be weird for you.”

“What? Talking about — food? About being fat?”

Patrick shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know, David! I know you have some baggage around stuff like this, and I want to enjoy this with you, but I also really, really don’t want to make you feel bad about anything. Like — talking about restricting, or what I eat, or anything.”

It’s sweet in a way that makes David ache somewhere deep, the kind of sweet he’s still convincing himself he deserves. No one from his past life would have ever thought twice about evangelizing their diet or strict workout regimen in front of him, never mind worried that it would hurt him somehow.

“Listen,” he says, steering Patrick to his bed. His belly gathers in a soft roll when he sits, and David resists the temptation to grab a handful of it. Not during this conversation. “I meant it when I said that my baggage with this concerns me. It’s like my brain is broken in this deeply specific way where I can appreciate — all of this” — he gestures in Patrick’s general direction — “on other people. I can think that it’s fine, or … that it’s incredibly hot. But I can’t think the same about me. I can believe all bodies are good bodies or what-the-fuck-ever, except mine. Though I will admit that I am slightly better about that than I used to be.”

Patrick opens his mouth, and David waves him off. The room is getting uncomfortably hot in a way that has nothing to do with Patrick’s softness or the number on the scale.

“Your brain isn’t broken,” Patrick says softly. “You have — you have a history of disordered eating. It’s not a personal flaw, David.”

“Um, I prefer ‘body image conflicts,’” David interjects in an undertone, and Patrick nods. “But it literally is a mental health condition, so it is … sort of broken.” He clears his throat. “But as I was saying. It literally does not bother me if you talk about food or your weight or your body, and I am at this point mostly in recovery, so … I promise to let you know if something bothers me. Even if it’s stupid or feels deeply embarrassing to say so. Is that okay?”

“It won’t be stupid,” says Patrick, tucking himself closer to David. “But please let me know, yeah. Your body image conflicts are important to me, and I never want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Okay,” says David. His cheeks feel disgustingly flushed. It shouldn’t make him that fond just to hear Patrick seamlessly repeat his preferred terminology. “Sorry that I’ve ruined the actual kinky parts of this, like, thirteen times with my bullshit.”

Patrick is grinning at him broadly, the way he does when David says something that surprises him or whets his interest. “You haven’t ruined it. But, uh — kinky, huh?”

The flush in David’s cheeks does not retreat. “Um, yes, I think that’s what you’d call this. At least from my end. Last time I checked, getting your kicks from weighing your partner wasn’t exactly mainstream.”

“Ooh, I get it,” says Patrick, deadpan. “‘Mainstream’ is definitely not a vibe I’ve ever gotten from you.”

“Is it kinky for you?” David demands, and Patrick demurs, burying his face in David’s shoulder. “Oh, my god. I bare my entire soul for you and you can’t even tell me if this is a kink?”

He’s half joking, and Patrick huffs a laugh against his sweater before raising his eyes to meet David’s. “I don’t know,” he says finally. “I didn’t think so. Part of it is just that I’m more comfortable being bigger. But — I don’t know. Thinking about getting bigger for you, or getting on the scale for you — about doing this with you — that’s really hot.” He’s staring down at his lap now, his cheeks bright pink.

David nods, a perverse delight coursing through him. “So it is.”

Patrick shrugs, his eyes a little wild like they get when he doesn’t have the answer for something and it’s weirding him out. “Maybe?”

“Oh, my god,” David teases, resting his chin on Patrick’s shoulder. “Your first kink! What a milestone. I’m so flattered to bear witness to this.”

“Okay, it’s not my first,” says Patrick, rolling his eyes, and David raises an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

Patrick squirms. “Sometimes Rachel pulled my hair, I don’t know. When it was longer. And I could see liking some, maybe, some — dynamic stuff? It’s not called that, I know,” he adds when David raises the eyebrow even higher. “Power play, or whatever? Or, like, teasing.”

He’s so incandescently red that it makes David’s chest swoop in a stupid, stupid way. He wants to make Patrick blush like this all the time. In the past, that feeling was purely transactional — confined to quick, insincere nights with people he didn’t trust or even like, most of the time. But Patrick — he wants to see that little open-mouthed face Patrick does when David runs his hands over that one spot on his inner thigh, and he wants to see the sweet way Patrick’s face mushes against his pillow when he’s asleep the morning after, the bleary, heavy-lidded smiles he gives David as he rolls over and catches his eye. He wants to experiment with these things with Patrick because he trusts him, because he knows when Patrick says dynamic stuff, it’s not called that, I know, power play, or whatever?, he’s trusting David with his own innocence and vulnerability right back.

“Okay, well, very excited to explore all of that with you,” says David, and now he lets himself grab at Patrick’s belly, jiggle it a little. “But, um, I feel like we got a little distracted from the matter at hand, which is that … you’ve gained sixty pounds in less than a year. And that is so fucking hot.”

The blush doesn’t leave Patrick’s face, but he turns and gives David a contagious little grin that David can’t help but return. “Yeah,” he says, like he’s savoring it. “It kind of is, isn’t it?”

***

[montage of Patrick getting bigger that i haven’t written yet]

***

5 | heft (set after 5.04 “the dress”)

“So,” says David deliberately as he and Stevie drive back from Elm Valley. Well, Stevie is driving. David is nursing an enormous coffee, his fourth of the dozen doughnuts they casually pilfered from the hotel’s breakfast buffet, and an absolutely evil hangover, but even his pounding head can’t tamp down his curiosity. “That’s Emir.”

Stevie resolutely keeps her eyes on the road. “Yep.”

“He’s cute,” David leads. “He seems very … well-rounded.”

“Yep.”

“Seems like … a big catch,” he tries again. Stevie’s face doesn’t budge, except that it looks like she might bite through her tongue.

“Bigger than Patrick?” she asks after a long moment, and David almost chokes on his maple bar.

“Excuse me?” he asks, when he’s cleared his throat with a gulp of coffee.

Stevie shrugs, reaching into David’s lap for the doughnut box and selecting a strawberry frosted all without looking at him. Frankly, it’s kind of impressive. “Just that Patrick’s looking like a pretty big catch lately, too.”

“Um, I thought we were talking about you and Emir,” he backpedals. “Is that your type?”

“Is it yours?” asks Stevie, and he gets it through his throbbing head that she thinks he’s making fun of her.

“I’m just saying,” says David, trying to sound friendly and conspiratorial, “I didn’t realize we had similar, um, preferences. We could have been reveling-in-slash-commiserating over that all this time if we’d known.”

Stevie finally turns to him. “I just think he’s hot,” she says. “It’s not, like, a type. It’s literally just, he’s hot.” She gives him a wicked grin. “But now I know that’s your preference, so thank you for that information.”

“Get fucked!” splutters David, and she just dishes that grin back to him.

“Oh, I did,” she says smugly, steering with the heel of one hand as she grabs for her coffee. “All night.” David makes a gagging sound, and she continues, undeterred, “So what’s up with you and Patrick? Because he’s looking pretty well-rounded himself.”

David rolls his lips together, weighing his options. “So apparently,” he begins after a long moment, “Patrick used to be fat. And that was a whole thing for that girl he was engaged to, and he lost all the weight, but … he didn’t want to. And now he wants to gain it back. So I’m … helping him.”

She nods slowly. “Because that’s what you’re into?”

David nods, his hand tightening around his coffee cup at the thought. “Yeah.”

Stevie laughs, not meanly. “Well, it’s working. I thought he was going to bust out of that button-down the other day.”

It doesn’t even matter which day or which button-down she means specifically, because all of Patrick’s button-downs look like that now. “You cannot,” says David, strained, “just say those things to me.”

Stevie shrugs. “Then I guess I shouldn’t tell you that the other day I watched him knock over a couple of those bottles of body milk with his gut, either, huh?”

“If I were driving right now,” David promises, “I would run us off the road.”

She grins at him. “Man, you should have heard the noise he made when he bent over to pick up those bottles,” she says. “Like an oof, sort of, but with more … heft.”

“Just for that, I’m giving the rest of these to Patrick,” he says, curling himself over the doughnut box protectively and strategically shifting it in his lap to hide, um, the reaction. That he’s having. “You don’t deserve them.”

“Oh, no, of course,” says Stevie, her eyebrows drawing together. “Patrick needs them much more than I do. I could never deny him …” She pauses, adding numbers under her breath. “... Two thousand calories. What am I, a monster?”

Before David can fire back, his phone buzzes, and he pulls it out of his pocket to see two texts from Patrick, both photos. One shows an enormous plate of pancakes and a platter of French toast on a Formica surface David recognizes as the cafe’s tabletops, plus heaping side dishes of potatoes — hash browns and home fries — sausage, bacon, and eggs on toast. The other shows all of those plates, scraped clean. David swallows a little noise of overwhelm.

A third message rolls in as he watches: miss you. wasn’t the same without you trying to poach my hash browns

And then another, because Patrick knows exactly what David’s buttons are: wasn’t the same ordering it all for myself either. I think Twyla kept expecting you to join me

“Fuck,” hisses David, and Stevie glances over.

“Nothing,” he says hastily, and she gives him a look like she’s not buying it.

“Well, it’s ten am,” she says thoughtfully, “and you look like you’re about to bust a vein, so if I had to guess —”

“And you really don’t,” David hedges.

“— I’d guess that Patrick is texting you pictures of his brunch.”

David melts into the passenger seat, Stevie crows, and Patrick sends one more text, just to really push things over the edge: get home faster, with a picture of a scale that reads, unmistakably, 300 pounds.

{to be continued, eventually...}

#my fic #unfinished #schitt's creek #chubby david #fat patrick #david x patrick #wip

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blackbutlerfandomnerddomain · 10 months

Text

Name: Rosalio Rory Wyle

Nicknames: Rose, Little Prince, Sir Wyle (classmates more specially Flint), Rory (his online followers), Royal Pain-in-the-Ass (classmates and Asher and Jac), rosebud (Jac)

Gender: Male

Birthday: August 23rd

Age: 13-14

Height: 5'2

Appearance: Rosalio is very petite and small looking with very fair skin dusted with soft freckles and blush, button nose, big brown storm blue eyes with thick lovely lashes around them that fits with his doll like features, his skin is easily bruisable as evidence of the bruises on his knees and arms from school life

Clothing: Dresses very prim and proper in normal fitting clothes such as button ups and slacks though he does wear a lot of sweaters and overalls since they're easier to remove during P.E. or when he changes into clothes he want which are pretty frilly and "adorable"

Personality: Rosalio is pretty uptight and strict according to those around him, often a goody-toe-shoes as well and some say he comes off a touch arrogant and snobbish/spoiled and hot headed with a quick insulting tongue and annoyed eyeroll, but behind all that he's a very anxious person with issues of being in control of his own things and often would accidentally go through the flows and interests of others instead of his own, he also has pretty bad anxiety of not being accepted to a hangout or being left behind which makes his chicken out on many things even ones that connect with his real interests When you get passed his insecurities and mean front you get a soft inside of a loyal friend who's good with kids

Schooling: First Year of High School

Likes: Strawberries, cute things, bunnies, cookies, cakes, frogs, flowers, gardening, when things are clean and in order, rock music, classical music, history, math, chemistry, praise, roses, tea, iced coffee, matcha bubble tea, doc martens, bees, honey, cream, ocean things, fairy tales, mythological creatures, order, colorful spread sheets, horror games and movies, jazz, French films, K-dramas

Dislikes: The smell of perfume, when there's a big mess he has to clean, his family, cigarette smell, being called spoiled or annoying, racists, sexists, homophobes, the smell of beer, when someone makes a mess of his things on purpose or not, sea food, being touched without being asked first, loud busy areas, loud noises, slurs

Abilities: Okay cook, good cleaner, very smart, good singer, great with kids, listening to others, order

Name Meanings: - Rosalio - Spanish for "rose" - Rory - Old Irish for "red king" - Wyle - Takes after the word "wile" which means "trickster"

Trivia:

- Is the only child of his family, his father a lawyer and mother a housewife daughter of a judge and doctor - His father cheats a lot and accepts bribes while his mother is a user or booze and unlethal pills and medicines and he's often the one to clean up the messes - Because of this he spends half the week in a home called "Home of Wonders" which is a place for youths to hang out and stay at for free and sometimes stay nights in their "friend family" home. People call it the Mad House due to people having issues so he doesn't admit he's there - Jac and Helena Viviladi are his "friend family" and he and Jac don't get along too well - Have yall seen the short "Opal"? Please watch it to see what I was going for on his life - Has bad FOMO but worst anxiety to try to go to parties or hangouts - Has a blog called "Rory's Kingdom" where he uses the persona of Rory who's a popular adventures person who isn't scared of anything

I made Riddle, I have a problem-

#disney villain recruiters #disney villain recruiter au #twisted wonderland au #rosalio rory wyle #rosalio wyle #Spotify

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jassisass · 11 months

Text

Spider Bites

chapter 2

follow my twitter for updates, same @ as here

check ao3 for chapter notes xx

also i noticed the italics don’t paste on here but it takes too long to fix it so if you prefer italics for emphasis and such the ao3 version has those 😊

A few weeks have passed since your initial fight, but you and Miguel have been at each other’s throats. You can hardly be in the same room as him without one of you starting a fight. Well, you’re the one staring most of the fights but it’s only because he keeps making digs at you. Most of the time, they’re just regular arguments with him threatening to kick you off the team again and again. Sometimes they end up being physical. He never really hurts you, but every time he makes it clear that he’s the one in charge and it usually always ends with you being pinned to the wall or floor. Sometimes you put up a fight, but most of the time you don’t bother. Physically, he’s way stronger than you ever could be, and you part of you likes being overpowered because there aren’t many people who can. After almost every fight, you make some excuse to find a secluded enough place to relieve your pent up emotions, but it never quite satisfies you. You’ve almost gotten caught a few times.

Though he tries to restrain himself, you have a way of pressing Miguel’s buttons in a way nobody else can. Stopping just shy of his breaking point. For a second, you wonder if this has anything to do with your pheromones… if your emotions are affecting him as well. Could that be what’s causing you two to fight all the time? Your lack of control? Are you making him lose control with the scent radiating off of you whenever he’s around?

Even right now, you can smell it. Sweet and musky, embarrassingly strong. It’s been getting worse, especially with all the fighting. It’s just the two of you there in an abandoned observatory. You, Miguel and a few other spiders had taken out an alternate Lizard. You lingered back until everyone else left, and now there isn’t anyone to shield you from his wrath. You’re on your stomach. Miguel is holding your forearms against your back with one hand and your head is pressed into the ground by the other. He wants to make it clear that he’s the one in charge, yet you keep pushing back against his authority.

“What did I tell you about following my orders?” Miguel hisses through his mask. Even though you’d removed yours before you started fighting, his remains on.

He’s referring to the fact that you didn’t stay paired up with one of the Peters that came with you. It’s not your fault though, because that Peter pisses you off and not in the hot way Miguel does.

“We took the guy out, didn’t we?” you say. “Aren’t we supposed to be adaptable?”

“It doesn’t matter!” he says. “You could’ve fucked everything up!”

So, maybe it isn’t just that Peter annoys you, because he does. You fucked it up on purpose, but it was a calculated move. One that wouldn’t have caused any issues, but Miguel doesn’t know that.

“It doesn’t matter! It was fine!”

“God, you’re impossible to work with,” he’s beginning to loosen his grip on your arms.

“You keep assigning us missions together when you literally have hundreds of other options,” you say. “You like working with me.”

Miguel seethes because you’re right. He has consistently been picking you on the majority of the missions he goes on.

“Aww, did I hit a nerve?” you taunt. “I bet you’re enjoying this too.”

Miguel starts to chuckle softly, and his mask comes off. You catch a glimpse of his shiny white fangs. He leans in close, and you can feel his breath on your skin.

“Oh my god,” you close your eyes, a shiver going down your spine when his breath “Oh my god. Is he gonna do it?”

“Look at me.”

You look back at him.

“If I have to put you in your place again there are going to be consequences.”

“Oh yeah?” you say, your voice shaking slightly. “Like what? You’ll bite me?”

Miguel adjusts the position of your arms in a way that hurts, and you make a noise that sounds a bit too much like a moan.

“Sounds like you’re the one who’s enjoying this.”

You hesitate for a fraction of a second. “And what if I do?”

Miguel is caught off guard by your answer, and he doesn’t respond, so you keep talking.

“We always fight like this and you always threaten to kick me off, but you haven’t.”

Miguel growls. “You’re so fucking aggravating.”

“Yeah? So are you.”

For a second there’s just the sound of him breathing. Inhaling in your sweet scent. You can hear his breathing grow slightly heavier, and you wonder if the effects of your pheromones are increasing. You’ve been in close proximity with him before but never this close for this long. You have no idea how it’s going to affect him, or how long it’ll take. You notice he’s sweating slightly.

He groans softly, and you swallow.

“Why does this keep happening?” He lets you go and stands up. You doubt he wants you to try and answer.

You roll over onto your back and stand up. When you look at him, for just a moment his mask slips. He doesn’t look angry anymore. He looks exhausted. Guilt pangs in your chest as he turns his back to you.

“Miguel—”

“No, just—just go. Please.”

You don’t know what to say to him anyway, so you leave and check out the city. This one is pretty average, except much greener than your city. Lots of trees and plants growing everywhere. The Spider who lives there is nice too. You swing around the city, and eventually you find yourself at the top of a building once again. You take off your mask and take a deep breath. The air smells faintly of flowers.

“I need to stop doing this,” you think. It can’t be good for either of you, or for the fate of the spider-verse. Miguel hates that name, but you think it’s better than the ‘poly-arachnid whatever’ bullshit he came up with.

You close your eyes and lay down. Now that there’s nothing to distract you, the urge for release makes itself known. You do your best to ignore it this time. The Spider-man from this city could pop up at any time. You’re not a stranger to risks but you have a limit. Part of you wants to go back home but you decide there’s no point. Plus you’re pretty sure you’ve been overdoing it with the masturbation lately, and it’s gotten to the point where it doesn’t really feel good anymore. You take deep breaths, focusing on the scent of the flowers, and after a while your arousal is finally suppressed, at least for the most part.

The same can’t be said for Miguel. He’s currently battling his mixed emotions towards you. One one hand, you always find some way to him constantly, but on the other hand he can’t get enough of you. He’ll never admit to it, but he loves having to put you in your place. People rarely challenge him, except for Hobie, but Hobie… he’s different. He doesn’t care enough to fight, because he’s only there for Gwen. You though, you have a way of riling him up. It’s like the longer he’s around you, the more intense it gets.

Annoyance and anger aren’t the only thing he feels when he’s around you. He didn’t notice this the first time, but he finds himself feeling oddly aroused after or even during your fights. He’s not sure how he feels about that. It means you’re a distraction, but you’re a distraction he can’t get enough of.

Of course, you don’t know that. As far as you’re concerned, he hates you but you’re too valuable to let go. Even if he doesn’t hate you, or if you were to exist in a world where he even has feelings for you, it would never work. You’re deadly. You can’t risk a relationship with anyone. It would just hurt too much, not being able to kiss, hardly being able to touch. You’ve tried many times to synthesize some sort of antidote or something that can neutralize your poison, even just temporarily, but nothing ever works. You’ve been experimenting on roaches, and you’ve probably sent a mountain’s worth to their demise. It’s so bad that you get too scared to shake someone’s hand on a hot day, or pay for something with cash because being exposed to your sweat could be the end of their life. Normal people are just too delicate.

You can’t help but think that it’s a shitty power to have. It’s not even something you can use in combat, at least not intentionally, and it’s not like you want to kill everyone you fight either. You’d rather not have any unnecessary deaths on your hands. That’s another reason you need to stop fighting with Miguel. Sure, you both have your suits on when you touch, but you never know what could happen. If he dies because of you… everything would be fucked.

You’d be fucked.

The realization hits you and you open your eyes and stare up at the sky. You need to stop. You really need to stop, for the greater good.

“For the greater good,” You tell yourself. “Just shut the hell up and follow your orders.”

You can’t have everything fall apart because you can’t control yourself. Just imagine, you being the one who caused the multiverse to crumble because of your own desires. Not being around Miguel is a small price to pay for saving everyone you can.

After taking one last deep breath, you decide it’s finally time to return to the Spider-hub. You type the location in your watch and step through the portal.

Every time you come to the Spider-hub, you’re always a little awestruck. For so long, you’d felt so alone as a superhero. A lot of the spidermen were lucky enough to have their best friend. The one who knows. Their guy in the chair they can confide in, even if they fully don’t understand the stresses of fighting villains. You aren’t so lucky to have that, so once you found out that you in fact aren't alone at all, and that there’s actually thousands of you out is a huge comfort to you. Even though you still have your secrets. All of you do.

Another reason you like walking around in the Spider-hub is that you know there’s not a high chance of you running into Miguel. He’s almost always spending his time alone, and even if he does decide to get off his platform the place is so huge that the chances of you actually seeing him is close to none. You decide to stop by the cafeteria for something to eat.

Everyone you walk past who knows you greets you cheerfully, which brightens your spirits. It’s funny, you’re all vastly different, but you all have this understanding. You all get it. Even if you’re complete strangers, you all understand each other on a level that nobody else can. You don’t have to worry about hiding your face. Hell, there’s even a therapist you can actually be honest with.

You sit down at one of the tables in the cafeteria with your snack. As you’re about to take a bite, you sense someone approaching you from behind. You turn to see a tall black man wearing a black and white suit. He has locs that have been put into braids with blonde streaks in them. He’s a spider-man you’ve seen around before, and you’d actually gone on a mission with him recently.

“Hey, Arachne, right?” he says.

“Yeah… Spiderman?”

He laughs. “Wayne.”

You tell him your name. “You can sit if you want.”

He sits down across from you. You’re not gonna lie to yourself, he’s kinda fine, but you can’t get into another entanglement. You don’t know if you can. You’re pretty emotionally invested in Miguel at this point.

“So y'know that move you did when we were on that mission the other day?” he asks. “The one where you tied that guy up?”

“Yeah,” you say. You’re proud of yourself for coming up with that move, but you doubt you’re the only one who’s done it. You all have your own styles of fighting but there’s a lot of overlap since you all virtually have the same powers.

“How’d you come up with that?”

“I guess I was inspired by how spiders wrap up their pray in their webs,” you say. “It took a lot of practice to get it right, and I can’t really use it on anyone who’s a lot bigger than me, or it’s too hard to spin them around. Oh! I also had to develop a new web formula so the strands would split for faster coverage. It took me months to finally figure it out.”

“You don’t got a science guy?”

“Nah, it’s just me.”

He’s about to say something but his watch beeps. He glances down at it. Probably another anomaly.

“Damn, I gotta go but we should hang out sometime. If you want to.”

“Yeah, sure,” you nod. “Just let me know when you’re free.”

He nods and salutes you before falling backwards through the portal he just opened. You wonder if he wants to hang out as a friend or on a date. You decide to ask him whenever he gets back to you.

Once you finish your food, you wander around the Spider-hub for a bit, having little conversations with various spiders before deciding to go to train. You’re not out of practice by any means, but it never hurts to work on your skills. After sparring with a few people, you leave the to sit on the outer wall of the building. Miguel’s city is straight out of the future, similarly to the city you’d gone to when fighting the undersea Doc Ock, except instead of neon nightlife vibes, it looks more utopian. It’s almost funny that a man like Miguel lives there, though with all the tech they have he probably deals with crazy villains.

Them and the ones from hundreds of other universes. You’ve really put him through a lot. Jessica hasn’t talked to you about it recently, you two rarely see each other, but you can almost feel the disappointed look she’d give you if she knew. Maybe she does know, and doesn’t want to deal with it along with being Spider Woman and a pregnancy. You can’t believe she even goes on missions with a baby on the way.

Eventually, your own watch goes off. It’s a message from Wayne, asking if you’re busy. You text him back that you’re not and he sends you the coordinates to his universe. You open a portal below you and do a backflip off the building, diving straight in.

When you make it through to the other side, you shoot a web out to a building, swing in a long arc up and around and cling to the side. Wayne lands right beside you. The night air is cool and refreshing.

“So you want a quick tour?”

“Sure.”

“Let’s see if you can keep up,” you can’t see his face but by the sound of his voice he’s smiling.

Wayne’s city looks remarkably like yours, and at first you don’t notice any differences. A few advertisements you’ve never seen before, but besides that the layout of the city is actually familiar to you. Keeping up with Wayne is easy, and you’re having a lot of fun following him through the city. This job and Miguel have been stressing you out. As you weave between cars and trucks and swing around the city, you feel almost elated. Wayne brings you to a skyscraper where he stops.

“This is where I usually hang out,” he says. “When I’m not… being spiderman.”

You nod and take off your mask. “I have a spot kinda like this back home.”

“Yeah?” He takes off his mask too. “What’s your city like?”

“Almost exactly like this one. Like the layout and everything. Maybe some different street names and some buildings are in different places but besides that it’s pretty much the same place.”

Wayne nods. “You go back often?”

“Not really. I mean, yeah to check on things but I only go home when I’m off duty. I don’t really like hanging around my apartment ifI can’t just relax… even though I have shit to deal with pretty much every day.”

“I get that.”

You both sit in silence for a moment. It’s nice talking to someone who comes from a similar city as you, and it’s nice being somewhere that feels familiar.

“So, is this supposed to be a date or..?” you ask.

“Nah, nah,” he says. “Just hanging out. I should’ve said that earlier, my bad.”

“No it’s fine, I just wanted to make sure.”

“I feel like I don’t have time for all that romantic stuff. At least not right now.”

“Yeah,” you say. “Me too. I feel like I barely have time for myself.”

“Is that why you and Miguel are always fighting?”

You make a face, slightly embarrassed. “Yeah… that’s part of it I guess.”

“I can’t blame you man, he’s an asshole. You got balls the way you talk to him though.”

“Honestly I don’t know how I haven’t gotten kicked off yet.”

“You’re a good fighter,” he says, giving a gentle punch on the shoulder. “We need people like you.”

“Thanks.”

You smile. You haven’t had time to hang out with your friends back home lately, so it’s nice spending time with someone. You two end up talking for a while before both your watches go off.

Emergency backup needed: Earth-17778

“Where you headed?” you ask.

He shows you his watch. Earth-17778. You show him your watch with the same number. You both pull

your masks on and portal to the other dimension.

When you make it in, you lean off the side of the building and scan the area for any threats. It’s close to sunrise, judging by the color of the sky. Your spider sense tells you to get out of the way so you drop down and something bursts through the wall where you were resting moments before. A flash of red blue and glowing purple broke through the brick wall of the next building. You cringe. No wonder this spider needs backup—they’re getting their ass beat.

“Oh shit,” Wayne says.

You’re about to follow after them, when a second figure comes out through the hole in the building in a blur. That small glipse tells you enough. You’re dealing with two Prowlers.

“I’ll go through if you go up top,” he says.

You nod and thwip webs out of both your wrists and launch yourself over top of the buildings. Both the Prowlers are fast, but it’s easy to follow their path of destruction. You and Wayne finally catch up, and you see one Prowler, a man, holding back the arms of Spiderman, a classic red and blue Peter, while the second Prowler, a woman, is walking towards them with her claws out. You’ve never seen two villains working together like this before.

“Yo!” Wayne calls out.

Both Prowlers look up, eyes narrow, and you feel a chill go down your spine. Something about the Prowler makes you feel uneasy, and now you have to deal with two of them. They look at each other so you decide to make your move.

“I got left,” you tell Wayne, going after the female Prowler.

When you reach her, she grabs you by the arm and slams you into the rubble covered ground. She’s strong. Strong enough so you’re concerned about how this fight is going to end.

“So you from around here?” you ask, starting to sit up.

“Shut up,” she growls in her distorted voice. “I’m going to destroy you.”

She goes to punch you in the head, and you roll out of the way, standing in the same fluid movement. The Prowler fights with her claws out, and you narrowly miss getting your throat sliced open more than a few times. She tears through every web you shoot at her, so you decide to create some distance. When you’re in the air, you realize that Wayne and the other Prowler are long gone. Spiderman is on the ground, but he’s alive.

You make it to the top of a building and you jump backwards off of it, diving with your back towards the ground. The Prowler launches herself after you, but she glitches, giving you the opportunity to shoot a sticky mass of webs onto her face with one hand and use the other to anchor yourself back to the building so you can swing back around in an arc and slam her into the ground from above, pinning her by her wrists. She struggles hard, but you manage to hold her arms together and tie them up with webs, making sure she can’t slice through them. Once she’s restrained, you tie her up fully and send her to the go home machine.

Once she’s gone, you check on Spiderman.

“You good man?” you ask, holding out a hand to help him up.

“Yeah… I’m good,” he says, taking your hand and standing. “I wasn’t sure if I was gonna make it though.”

He looks like he’s about to pass out.

“You should probably get yourself checked out man,” you say. “We can handle the rest.”

He nods and opens up a portal and leaves you to call Wayne on your watch. “You good bro?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Cops should be on their way. Is the other guy okay?”

“He’s fine. He had to go to the infirmary but I think he’ll be fine.”

“Aight, I’m coming over.”

Wayne swings between two buildings on your right and lands next to you.

“You send the other Prowler to the go home machine?” he asks.

“Yeah. She literally almost killed me though. If she wasn’t glitching so much I would’ve gotten fucked up.”

“Shit,” he says.

He holds out his fist. You give him a fist bump and you go your separate ways. He has time off, while you’re still on duty but technically free to go wherever you want. You decide to go back to your own universe to make sure everything’s in order.

As you patrol the city, you realize you’re in a good mood, which hasn’t happened in awhile. You made a connection today. A new friend.

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kaibutsushidousha · 2 years

Text

Witch, Picture, and Red-Eyed Girl (Sagrada Reset 2) - Prologue

[INDEX]

The boy looked at the bright summer lights outside the window. Rays of light sharp as needles. There was a characteristic harmony to how the train floor shook with its movement, most noticeably when it slowed down for a curve. The softly bent shadow of the train rippled next to the trails.

It was like that square space was isolated from the bustling summer vacations. No one talked to him. The only thing he heard was the distinctive sound of wheels on trails, which only highlighted the silence further. The train quietly advanced through the deep green scenery under the blue sky and its white clouds. The boy was sure this was the quietest place in the summer.

That is, until a quiet voice broke the silence.

"Excuse me."

The boy turned his eyes back to the train's interior.

A man in his late 20s was standing in front of him. He wore a black suit and had no defining features.

"May I sit next to you?", he said.

There weren't many people on the train. The man had no need to sit next to him with so many seats available.

The boy stayed alert but hid his wariness with a smile as he nodded.

"Of course."

This has been a habit of his for as far as he knew. Smiling and nodding to strangers came to him as naturally as using his arms to guard against a ball flying in his direction. He concealed his wariness where it couldn't be found.

The man expressionlessly thanked and sat down. He wasn't exactly too far to inconspicuously hold a conversation, but he wasn't close either. The boy was relieved to see their knees were far from touching.

When the boy tried to shift his gaze back to the window, the man called him by name.

The boy took a close look at the man and confirmed he had never seen him before.

After some hesitation, the boy voiced his question.

"How do you know my name?"

The man didn't answer. Instead, he produced a white phone out of his chest pocket.

"You have a call. Take the phone."

(What's going on here?)

The man repeated himself.

"Take the phone."

The boy obliged. The second he did, it started ringing. The pure digital noise of the default settings ringtone filled the wagon.

The boy looked at the number. The man asked him to pick up the call.

"We're not allowed to take phone calls on the train."

"That's not an issue."

(Sigh. None of this makes any sense. It's bizarre and uncomfortable. I'd have run away by now if it was possible to do that on the train. The next stay is still far away.)

The man looked him straight in the eye. The boy pressed the green button and put the phone to his ear.

"Hello, nice to meet you."

He heard the soft voice of a woman he didn't recognize.

"Who is it?"

"Me? I'm a witch."

The boy was young, but not enough to still believe in witches. He assumed this was a prank.

"Sure, you're a witch, but what is your name?"

"Sorry, I don't have one."

(Don't have a name? Does she mean she doesn't want to say hers? Ah, whatever. I want to get this call over with already.)

"Is there anything you want from me?"

"I just want to talk to you. I'd rather do it in person, but it wasn't allowed."

The boy turned his eyes to the man next to him.

"Who are you two?"

The man still wasn't answering anything.

"Talk to her."

(What kind of conversation are you expecting from a complete stranger?)

"It's been really hot every day lately, hasn't it?", said the woman on the phone.

The boy gave a non-committal answer.

"True."

"How old are you?"

"12."

"Right. Are you alone?"

"I am."

"What a little grown-up you are. Where are you heading?"

"I'll visit my grandfather. My parents will have to go later because of their work."

Taking the conversation in a vacuum, it was very ordinary. It wouldn't be strange to say any of those things to an older lady on the train. But the woman knew the boy's name and imposed the phone call on him.

He could hear giggles from the phone.

"You're lying."

"About what?"

"About visiting your grandpa. Also about your parents coming later."

"What makes you think so?"

"Do I need a reason? You already know the answer."

The boy frowned slightly. He did lie about visiting his grandfather. He never had a destination in mind. He just wanted to go anywhere far away.

"What do you know about me?"

"Not much. Practically nothing, really. But enough to tell you're vaguely dissatisfied with how the world works."

"How did you know?"

"Because I'm a witch."

"I don't believe witches exist. And I'm not dissatisfied with anything."

"You aren't? Well, good for you.", said the witch. "But then why did you take the train, I wonder?"

(For no reason. Honestly. Sometimes I just wanna go somewhere far away. My usual sceneries get suffocating, and when that happens, I take the train and go in one direction until the sun sets. I have full intention of going back where I started at the end, so that's not running away from home.)

"You're looking for a place where you belong.", she said.

The boy shook his head, despite knowing the person on the phone wouldn't see it.

(I place where I belong...)

"I don't believe that exists either."

"Of course you don't. But it does."

She giggled almost imperceptibly.

"Your train is heading to the place where you belong. But if you set foot there, you can never come back. It's the place you belong, after all. It will catch you and never let go."

The conversation made no sense. The boy sighed, making a point to do it loud enough it could be heard from the phone.

"Are you from a cult?"

She denied.

"No. Life would be a lot easier if I were."

Her voice was calm and stable.

"You won't believe me, but it's the truth. If you keep going in this direction, I'll never be able to turn back. Look at the window and see where the train is heading."

The boy had no reason to comply but still looked at the window. The bustling light of the summer filled his eyes. The trails lead to a short mountain.

"If you want to turn back, you have to do it before reaching that mountain. You can't set foot on the city past it."

The boy quickly closed his eyes and recalled the map. He was very confident in his memory.

"Sakurada."

The city beyond the mountain was named Sakurada.

"Yes. Sakurada will never let you go. You'll never be able to come back to where you live now."

The boy knew nothing about Sakurada City.

The witch called him by name.

"Asai Kei, if you love the world as you currently know it, you can't get off the train in Sakurada."

"How do you know my name?"

"What do you think is the answer?"

(I don't know. But I can guess what she'll answer.)

"Because you're a witch."

The voice on the phone laughed.

"Right answer. Congratulations."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

These events happened 4 years ago.

That summer, Kei visited Sakurada for the first time.

#sagrada reset #witch picture and red-eyed girl #asai kei #first witch

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caveate · 2 years

Text

Problem/Incident Management Rant

As I'm looking at pivoting my career to actually start fixing problems at the source instead of constantly being told to ignore or paper over them by my management, Problem Management has emerged as the term I've been looking at to describe my "OMG WTF YOU BLOCKHEADS DO YOU EVEN THINK PAST YOUR OWN FOREHEAD" moments at work. Let us begin with an example. Bear in mind I work in IT, so this will be an IT-centric rant, though the underlying theory also applies to everything from baking and restaurant work to construction and beyond. Here is a screencap of a UX one might encounter randomly when browsing any kind of website based out of the UK nowadays.

(Alt text: A manage cookies popup screen where Preferences is toggled to the left and Marketing is toggled to the right with no other text displayed for those options) So, of the two toggle options, which is Accepted and which is Denied? How can we tell? This is where someone looking at this and claiming training is needed to understand this gets punted into the stratosphere by me. Because this is not a training failure, this is far more fundamental than training. This is a designer who didn't think about any viewpoint that doesn't have the same knowledge and assumptions as they do. Which leads directly into

(Alt text: A Twitter post from Funranium. "Begin rant. When you hand me an incident report and you list 'training issues' as a root cause, you just told me that I need to pay much closer attention to management and the person that wrote this report.")

Why would listing training as the root cause of an incident report be a problem? See that cookies screencap at the beginning of this post? Training isn't the problem. The root problem is that the toggles aren't labeled with words which describe them which would allow anyone, regardless of prior knowledge, to know exactly what behavior to expect from said toggles. Now let's look into why this is such a hot button for me. See, in my job? Listing training as the root cause is the cheap fast option and the one management likes to use. Take the person who's been using Windows and Office for 20 years who just deleted 3 years of data from a database. The button in the in-house developed application said "Delete data? Yes/No." The user is used to Windows, so sure, click Delete and if there's an issue with it they have a fundamental assumption that said data isn't actually deleted, it's been moved to a Recycle Bin of some kind, so it's recoverable. Except even though they're on Windows it's an in-house developed database application and therefore there's no Recycle Bin. The user's been trained to expect non-permanent deletion by all their years of using Microsoft products and there's nothing telling them that is an incorrect assumption in this application. The solution according to me? Change the button's message to explicitly state "Permanently delete data? Yes/No." Management's solution? It's the user's fault for not realizing that Delete meant permanent deletion and the user should be trained better. And then the yelling starts. The user is unhappy at losing their data and then being victim-blamed and having their intelligence insulted by management, the database administrators are up in arms because they have to restore the database from backup, someone agreed about the warning message being unclear and cc'ed the email to the developers, and now everyone is in some form of Pissed Off as the ripples spread. If the user is influential at all or the database is important then this goes up the chain to higher management and then things really get bad. Over time the above scenario will repeat as long as "training" is used as the root cause and will result in a user base who does not trust the applications they're using or, worse yet, the IT department who blamed them for an honest mistake. The reputation of the IT department plummets, people stop going to the IT folks for anything, and suddenly things like rogue wifi points and other huge security issues start appearing. I've seen Access databases squirreled away on private servers, Excel spreadsheets critical for ensuring the company runs tucked away on someone's desktop computer, and so many other examples where after losing trust in the IT department the data owners and users decided to do things on their own. I've also seen data breaches, failed hard drives, lost laptops, and "Oh SHIT we need the spreadsheet for the report due in 2 days, but it's on Bob's computer and he's gone on vacation for 2 weeks!" which resulted in work shutdowns and 6 figure fines. None of these are good situations and all of them could have been avoided with proper problem management or incident analysis and fixes when the initial problem occurred instead of passing it off as "training" as the root cause.

#me #IT #rant

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avtrbee · 3 years

Text

never

summary: nobara and itadori asks megumi about the biggest fight y/n and gojo ever had

tw: abandonment issues (?)

please feel free to leave comments of criticism! i'd love to hear from you :> enjoy the fic !!

my masterlist

It seemed like the entire Jujutsu High School seemed to freeze in cold when Y/N and Gojo-sensei walked past each other near the training grounds. They were usually attached at the hip in the school as both were teachers and...well, they were married. They looked like lovesick fools on campus, but mainly Gojo sneaking kisses at any chance he got and Y/N silently letting him. No one missed the small smile of fondness on Y/N’s face every time.

“Oi,” whispered Itadori, nudging his shoulder. “Will they be okay? Y/N-sensei’s face looks so cold.”

“Yeah,” agreed Megumi without hesitation. This wasn’t his first experience of seeing a lovers quarrel- they practically raised him after all. He and Tsumiki always had the front row seats on Gojo’s tantrums and Y/N’s stubbornness. “They’ll get over it.”

“Hah?” Nobara poked his shoulder. “You seem pretty confident, Fushiguro.”

“Well, it’s not like this was their worst fight…”

“Huh, I never knew them to fight frequently. They always looked so in love that fighting seemed out of the picture. What was their worst fight like Megumi? Were you there?” asked Itadori.

Oh, he was there. He remembered every second of the week-long fight- the longest it ever lasted. Megumi didn’t even remember what it was about- the laundry? Stress? He really didn’t care about the specifics. From that point, Megumi has seen Y/N and Gojo have little arguments with a few ending up in screaming matches. They were always mindful to scream when he and Tsumiki were out of earshot, but they caught bits and pieces nonetheless. They were always greeted with a sleeping Y/N cuddled up with Gojo on their sofa the next day, anyway.

But this...this was something else. It was serious. It got so bad that Gojo even packed up a suitcase filled with his clothes and slammed their front door, going away from who knows where.

The house felt frozen like it was winter, similar to how Jujutsu Highschool felt now. All three of them looked at the door silently, expecting, praying, that Gojo would come back with a goofy smile calling his actions a prank, making everyone sigh in relief. But a few minutes passed by, and the door still hadn't opened.

It was Tsumiki that broke the deafening silence first. “Will- will you l-leave too, Y/N-san?”

Megumi and Y/N’s heads whipped to the girl. Tsumiki, always the bigger sister, was trying to keep a straight face, quickly wiping away the tears that were falling down her cheeks. There was a smile on her face as if trying to convince everyone that it's okay- it’s okay if Y/N leaves. Just like her mom, just like his dad. Y/N walked three great strides towards his sister and shoved her a little too aggressively to her stomach.

“No.” she croaked. Y/N raised her head to look away from them, presumably to cry. She never liked crying, much more people seeing her cry.

Megumi has always looked at Tsumiki as the older sister she was, always caring for him, fussing around him with a motherlike intent. But the sight of Tsumiki’s arms tightly secured around Y/N’s waist while sobbing into her shirt was the youngest Megumi has ever seen his sister.

He gets it. He does. Megumi might be nine but he was the first to realize that his dad and Tsumiki’s mom were never coming back. He realized this quickly, too. The slam of the door, a parental figure walking past without ever looking back...he and Tsumiki have seen this sight way too many times.

There was anger in his chest, both directed at himself and at Gojo. Did he trust too quickly? It was only two years since Y/N and Gojo took them out of the cramped apartment they called home, two years since he’s been eating take out and home-cooked meals for dinner instead of leftovers of a restaurant, two years since he and Tsumiki hadn’t slept on a thin mattress on the floor. He got too complacent, and this is where it got him.

Megumi’s heart ached, and all he feels is anger- anger towards Gojo for leaving, anger towards Tsumiki for caring, and anger towards Y/N for taking them in and making him trust again. He got too carried away with all the privileges and assurances they showered them with that Megumi didn’t even think it would go away. How stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He’ll miss this, he thinks. Megumi will miss coming home to an occasional hot meal that Y/N would cook if she arrived home early. He would miss the weekly shopping trips they would go to- Megumi barely wanted anything, content at staring at the stores and observing Tsumiki and Gojo buy clothes for everyone. Megumi would miss Disneyland- he had only been there once but Gojo saw the excitement in his and Tsumiki’s eyes that he promised he’ll take them there again. He would miss Gojo carrying him out of spite, despite being too tall and holding his hand as they walked to stores despite him acting like he hated every second of it. He’ll miss the way his heart would swell every time an old lady would call them a cute family and the way-

“Megumi.” His head snapped to Y/N whose eyes were red and sad. “You’re crying.”

Megumi lifted his palm to hold his cheek and sure enough, he managed to catch a tear from rolling down his chin. He didn’t even realize he was crying, which made him angrier. He wanted to tear this place he called home for two years apart with one of his dogs, leave and never come back-

From Y/N’s stomach, Tsumiki peaked at him and held out her hand. Y/N placed a comforting hand on her head before giving Megumi a sad smile. It was then Megumi let all of his anger flow through his tears, he was ashamed of even thinking of leaving- Y/N just said she wouldn’t leave them, and he believed her. He felt more tears roll down his cheeks and he let himself wail, scream, and shout for the entire world to hear. He ran like a child to Tsumiki’s hands and to Y/N’s comforting hug and screamed more.

He didn’t know how long they cried together but at the end of the night, they were all tucked in a corner, Tsumiki and Megumi snuggled at Y/N’s sides.

They were comfortable at that, but Y/N insisted on getting up and getting ready for bed. She ushered the both of them to the shower and brushed her teeth with them. There was silence as they did their tasks, exhausted from silently crying and Megumi from throwing a fit with his wails.

It wasn’t until Tsumiki was buttoning the last button of his pajamas when they heard their doorbell ring an absurd amount of times. It didn’t have the intention to stop until someone opened the door.

“I’ll get it,” announced Y/N, her voice croaking from disuse. Megumi remembered watching Y/N figure walk to their doorway, then finally opening the door.

Behind it was Gojo with eyes as red as theirs, holding a bouquet of flowers on one hand and two paper bags on the other. He raised his gifts to them with shaking hands.

Megumi would have laughed at his sight, Gojo had snot coming out of his nose, his eyes were filled with tears, lips trembling. But the fact that Gojo’s blindfold was off, giving an impression that Gojo was serious.

“I-“ Gojo sniffed. “I meant to come back earlier, I didn’t mean it- it’s just the higher-ups gave me a mission to Europe as soon as I closed the door-“ Gojo breathed deeply, eyes darting at the three of them. Behind him was the suitcase he packed, untouched on their doorstep.

“-I teleported, I finished it as soon as I could, and-“

“Fushiguro?”

Megumi flinched backward at the sudden sight of Itadori’s hand waving in front of his face. He was suddenly pulled out of his memory, blinking several times to adjust to his new reality. “Sorry, I spaced out…”

“Well?” Nobara prompted, putting her hands on her waist. “What was their biggest fight?”

The expression on her face was similar to those she wore before she threw a fit of impatience. He wasn’t really in a mood to explicitly describe the emotional toll their fight took from all of them, nor was he willing to suddenly open up about his abandonment issues and how a Gojo going out and not coming back until three hours later triggered something in him and Tsumiki. After Y/N hugged Gojo, Megumi remembered racing against Tsumiki towards the white-haired man at their door, each of them clutching one of his legs.

Megumi trusts Itadori and Nobara...he just wasn’t there yet. He’ll tell them someday he thinks, he’ll tell them everything.

Megumi looked at Y/N and Gojo-sensei again and was pleased by what he saw. A small smile graced his face as he pointed towards the couple. “It ended just like that.”

Itadori and Nobara turned their heads towards the direction of the couple. From their position, they could see Gojo clutching a bouquet of flowers while audibly sobbing his apologies while Y/N tackled him into a hug.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #megumi fushiguro #tsumiki fushiguro #gojo x reader #jjk #jjk angst #jjk scenarios

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tojiaesth · 3 years

Text

boyfriend

gojo satoru x f!reader

summary: you and gojo had some sort of unspoken agreement in which you refused to adhere to labels and instead chose to have fun. except neither of you would ever admit the hold you had on each other.

warning: heavy smut, 18 +, minors dni, fingering, oral (fem receiving), rough handling of reader, marking, dom!gojo, sub!reader, choking/breath play, overstim, raw sex, tummy bulge, ?slight breeding kink, jealousy and possessiveness, mentions of drugs and alcohol.

tags: college au, fratboy!gojo, friends with benefits, unlabelled relationships, bisexual!gojo, bisexual!reader, fluff at the end <3

A/N: inspired by ariana herself <3 so i recommend at least listening to the song before you read, if you’re like me and can’t read and listen :p

It was loud. That was the first thing you picked up on before you even entered the sweaty house. Your friends begged you to come, as if there weren’t parties every week and missing one would change the world. You struggled to find a parking space, choosing to walk the rest of the way. The deafening thump of bass could be heard a few blocks down and you wondered how there was never any noise complaints.

Satoru probably threw money at them.

You smiled, it was such a him thing to do. The cold air nipped at your dress, having left your coat in your car. You had chosen to wear an emerald green satin body con dress that stopped mid thigh. It accompanied a criss cross pattern that exposed your back. You first saw it online and had fallen in love, it partly being the reason why you had said yes. You wanted him to see you in the dress, already craving the dark look in his eyes when he was turned on.

Gojo Satoru, college senior, with his charismatic personality had a very big presence at the college. Almost never alone and surrounded by a group of admirers, both men and women fell at his feet. If someone had told you back in your first year that you’d be sleeping with this man on the regular you’d think they were crazy. He honestly, despite being very handsome, was not your kind of man. Too pretty, very cocky and had serious commitment issues, bedding half the campus. But it had started at the beginning of the year, your friendship groups overlapping as you had grown close with Suguru Getou and Shoko Ieiri having been studying the same subject. You found yourself around him a lot, eventually going out with just each other and things quickly progressed.

Soon enough he was between your thighs, lapping at your cunt with fervour and sucking gently on your clit, two slender fingers hitting that spot. He did that a lot, seeming to relish in the way you fell apart on his tongue, your slippery walls pulsating as you softly said his name like a prayer. He’d nonchalantly get up, sometimes not even asking for anything in return and it surprised you. You pegged him as more of a receiver than a giver but it suited you fine.

You became pretty popular on campus as you hung out with them, attending parties and making life long friendships. You usually weren’t someone who slept around, but that quickly changed. So did your care for a steady relationship. You were 21, life was short, you had a great body and a pretty face, opting to have fun.

You found yourself caught in Gojo’s trap, legs wound around his waist on a weekly basis, his hard cock driving into you with such force you thought you’d break. Your legs clenched just thinking about it, a thin layer of slickness coating your panties.

Your thoughts were brought back to reality when you entered the frat house, NalinA by Block B was being blasted at full volume through the house and you already felt a course of excitement run through your veins. You couldn’t wait to let loose and find your friends. The house, just short of a mansion, had been decorated with l.e.d lights, a soft red and blue glow painting your skin. There was alcohol everywhere, sweaty bodies and the strong smell of weed.

“Y/N! Over here.” You looked over to see the majority of your friends on a sofa, catching sight of Satoru with a girl on his lap. His hand was caressing her ass, as she pouted saying something to him. She was pretty, and you tried your best not to care. Their faces were sweaty, with cups in their hands, indicating they had stopped dancing. You walked in their direction, plopping yourself next to the person behind the voice.

“Hey Mei-Mei. You look hot.” You said casually and she automatically pulled you to sit on her knee. You smiled and took her cup, whatever bitter liquid sliding down your throat. You and Mei were another short lived fling, sleeping together a handful of times and besides Satoru, no one else could compare to that sinful mouth of hers. A queen at teasing, she brought her hand to your waist and lightly began tracing shapes with her fingers.

“You look hot, that dress is making me want to do things to you.”

You chuckled as you stared at each other, tensions running high as the song changed to one you were familiar with. You wanted to dance.

“God, please make out.”

You ignored the annoying comment from Sukuna who was sat diagonally from you, blatantly checking you out. You told him to shut up, your mouth twitching as he looked completely unfazed. Looking away, you ran your fingers through Mei’s soft hair,

“Come, let’s dance.” You whispered, breath hot on her ear as she shivered. You loved how easily you could fluster Mei, knowing the more you worked her up the more she’d punish you for it later.

You both got up and your arms were grabbed by Shoko,

“We’re coming, we’d rather not watch Sukuna hunt for a girl like an animal or Gojo practically fuck in front of us.” She said, shuddering and dragging a very amused Getou. Your eyes flickered to Satoru, finding that he was already watching you. The girl was now straddling him and the buttons on his shirt looked undone, his hands rubbing circles on her thighs. He refused to break eye contact with you, kissing her neck as she moaned, smirking as you looked away, grasping Mei’s hand.

You don’t know what he was trying to do, but it pissed you off. It annoyed you more that he’d groan in your ear some nights, grabbing your neck and claiming you were his and his only. Not wanting you to touch or look at anyone else. The next morning? Business as usual as he was all over some girl. You deducted that him saying those things to you were just in the heat of the moment, recalling how your clit would throb as he would rub slow circles, staking his claim. You liked how possessive he could get, the rough sex, and how occasionally he’d surprise you with a gift. All without having to actually be in a relationship.

You didn’t care about labels and neither did he. So why? Why did his eyes say, he wanted you to get jealous? You sighed, these mind games and mixed signals were your least favourite part of Satoru.

The beginning of an all too familiar riff began to thump through the walls and you all squealed in delight. As ‘Do I Wanna Know’ began you swayed your hips and lip synced, literally letting your hair down as Mei came up behind you. Shoko began recording you without your knowledge, watching as your head fell onto Mei’s shoulder, her hands ghosting around the space between your breasts, purposefully ignoring how your nipples hardened as she whispered something lewd into your ear.

“She’s gonna kill you if you post that.” Suguru watched as Shoko posted the video to her story, her eyes shining with amusement as almost instantly people replied asking who you were.

Satoru on the other hand could not take his eyes off of you. He studied you as you wrapped your arms around Mei and he was exasperated. She was addictive, he thought, those pouty and full lips had a hold on him, his dick twitched thinking about them wrapped around him. Her body was something else, those breasts of hers heaving against her dress. Shit. He almost got hard. The girl currently giving him a hickey was just not doing it for him. In fact no girl or guy was, he had tried countless times only his encounters with Y/N fulfilling his desires. In spite of that, he would not tell her this, not wanting to ruin the game of cat and mouse they had going.

“Satoru, let’s go somewhere.” The girl whined, hips grinding against his crotch. He suddenly got up and pushed her off of him,

“Nah, not in the mood. I’m sure Sukuna would be interested. He has a habit of going after my sloppy seconds.” Gojo snapped, sick of the way he was gazing at you, eyes darkened with lust.

He ignored the girls cuss words directed at him as she stormed off and Sukuna snickered, looking up from his phone.

“She’s fuckable but I have my eye on something else tonight.” He thrust his phone in Satoru’s face, only to be met with Shoko’s story, full of Y/N dancing suggestively.

He willed himself not to show anger and hummed,

“Like you could pull her.” His voice dripping with fake amusement as Sukuna tensed in irritation.

Satoru walked in the direction of his friends, still dancing crazily and singing very out of tune to ‘Kiss me more’, you were now dancing with Suguru and laughing loudly as he tried to attempt some sort of dance move so terribly, Satoru could not decipher what it was supposed to be. Your lips were glossy, eyes twinkling as he picked you up and twirled you around, ribs hurting from laughing so much. You never laughed that much with him.

Satoru pursed his lips, he was just so irritated. Suguru put you down when the song finished and you fixed his hair that your arm had messed up,

“Your hairs gone so long now, I love it.” You said cheerily, fingers twirling on a stray strand as Suguru bent down slightly so he could hear you over the music.

“It suits you.” You stated softly, unable to look away from his intuitive eyes. The lights were casting a glow across his face, bringing his jaw to attention as you traced it slowly. He was a different kind of handsome you thought, more your type than Satoru was and you thought about how his eyes were a warm brown, compared to Satoru’s cerulean ones. You scolded yourself internally for still finding ways to think about Satoru, you just couldn’t shake him.

Suguru smirked and focused on the feeling of your hands, now running through his hair and eventually resting on the back of his neck. You smelt so good, he thought, he wanted to kiss you. He leaned down and you realised his intentions, your hands paused on his biceps that were coated in tattoos. As you closed your eyes, thoughts wild and slightly clouded by the shots you did with Shoko, you braced yourself to kiss the god-like man that was Getou Suguru, pulse racing.

“Y/N!” Your head automatically snapped at your name being called, sheepishly looking at Suguru whose eyes were now filled with something you couldn’t quite figure out. Satoru was in front of you both, promptly grabbing your hand and dragging you away. Eyes bewildered you looked back at Suguru who looked entertained at the whole situation. You found yourself at the focus of everyone’s stares, all curious as to why Gojo had a dark look in his eyes.

“Satoru, what the fuck? Let go-“ His large hands were gripping your smaller ones hard, uncomfortably squishing your fingers together. He said nothing, back to you as he hauled you up the stairs and into his room. His door slammed as you stumbled into the dimly lit room, turning around in utter confusion at Gojo’s behaviour.

“Fuck, what is your problem?” You were enraged at how he just did what he pleased with you and how you just let him. You massaged your wrist, now slightly red at Satoru’s force.

“Why the fuck would you try and kiss him? Seriously, Suguru? You’re such a fucking whore.” Gojo clenched his jaw, finding himself even angrier at the thought of you underneath Suguru, moaning, sweat dripping off your backs.

You were baffled. A whore?

“Firstly, you’re literally the definition of a whore and secondly, why the fuck do you care?!” You stepped closer to him, cheeks flushed in anger at Satoru’s audacity,

“You have no fucking right to care about who I fuck. Got it? You’re not my boyfriend.”

Satoru moved closer to you, your nose in line with his chest as the man’s eyes changed suddenly. For once, he had no comeback or witty remark, you were right but he’d had enough. Just the thought of his best friend between your legs snapped him into action and he had to come to terms with his feelings. His fingers lifted your chin, your eyes willing itself not to melt at his touch, goosebumps already littering your arm. He silently moved to your lips, thumb pressing against your mouth, encouraging you to open.

You were so unbelievably confused, this man blew hot and cold. One minute so angry he couldn’t speak and then next initiating a kiss.

“Satoru-“

His lips were against yours before you had time to think, furiously pressing against them and swiping his tongue across. You relaxed into his touch and opened your mouth. His tongue found yours in an instant and lightly sucked it, your breathless moans pleasuring his senses as his hands pulled your body closer to him. He explored your body, cupping your ass while you simultaneously wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers drowning in his soft white locks. Eventually he pulled away, cupping your face gently like you were a porcelain doll,

“I don’t want you to see anyone else or kiss them like that. I’m not playing any more games. You’re mine.” He stated firmly, blue eyes framed by his ash coloured lashes, gazing into your soul.

You couldn’t bring yourself to tease him. Gojo...was serious. All those extra knowing glances you’d give each other, the fiery arguments, the passionate sex, the pang of jealousy at his lips on another girls neck and the way his eyes would linger a little too long when you spoke to a guy, you realised the both of you were stupid. Too busy trying to convince yourselves you didn’t care you both buried your thoughts away, afraid to articulate them in case you were rejected.

You found yourself repeating after him, his eyes almost hypnotising you as you stuttered,

“I-i’m yours.”

Satoru lightly kissed you on the lips and motioned you to jump up, supporting your legs as you wrapped them securely around his waist. He gingerly placed you on his bed, hovering over you as his hands slowly rid up your leg, ghosting around your inner thigh and you suppressed a moan. His touch was magnetic, something as simple as stroking your thigh with Satoru becomes so much more, a tingly sensation jolting through you when his hands brushed between your clothed folds. Meanwhile he began kissing his way down, starting with your neck and sucking furiously at the spot above your collarbone. You mewled against him as he licked the now marked spot, your hips desperately finding his to grind against.

“Patience, baby. I’m taking my time with you.”

You whined at his remark, you just needed him inside you, now.

“Such a whiny brat.” His voice slipped through your ears like silk as he slowly slipped the straps of your dress down your shoulders, the new stimuli adding to the experience. You were never more glad to have not worn a bra. He focused on your exposed breasts, nipples hard and swollen and he groaned at the sight.

A warm sensation reached your nipples and you cried out in pleasure, looking down at Satoru lapping up your soft mounds. His seductive gaze ripped through you as he began to trace slow circles with his tongue. His fingers kept your other breast occupied, rolling around your left nipple with his fingers, constantly switching sides and worshipping them.

His attention switched to your lower stomach, kissing your skin with affection as you anticipated his lips between your thighs. You could feel the damp spot slowly spreading on your panties and the swell of your clit, begging to be touched.

“Fuck, Satoru you tease.” You breathed out in gaspy moans, he had completely removed your dress by now and was blowing warm breaths against your knickers. Satoru brought a single digit to rub against the wet spot, moaning as he felt the tent in his pants. He loved teasing you but it required self control, wanting nothing more than to release his large cock from its restraints and into your warm hole, throbbing at the thought.

He finally pulled your panties to the side at your delight and your whimpers filled the room as his fingers brushed against your soaked clit. He played around with your pussy, stroking up and down and noting the creamy juices that were flowing out your hole. The sight of his fingers coated in your juices and he almost came right there. The lewd squelching of your cunt was slightly covered up by your cries of pleasure as he entered two slender fingers inside you, stimulating your sensitive walls. He reached down and took your clit into his mouth, humming at the taste.

“F-fuck, right there Toru” You moaned, attempting to wriggle but Satoru quickly used his arms to clamp your thighs into place, his sensual mouth causing white dots to appear in your vision. Your stomach fluttered at the slow, familiar build up of your climax, not even embarrassed that he had only been eating you out for five minutes. You were just so sensitive today and paired with Satoru laying claim to you, your body was responding to each and every one of his touches.

“Ah, k-keep going baby, fuck. You’re so good at it.” The praises fell from your lips as the deep pleasure in your stomach changed, indicating you were near.

Satoru was persistent, his insatiable need to feel your cunt quiver against his tongue caused him to add one more digit, scissoring his fingers against your gummy walls. He could feel you frantically clenching, chuckling at his inability to move as fast as his fingers were in a death trap. He kept his eyes on you, watching as your hand came up to your mouth to stifle your sobs, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“I’m close.” You whispered and you made a mistake of looking down at Satoru, his tongue was pressing down against your sensitive nub, saliva dripping onto his bed. His fingers went even faster, determined to make you cum.

“Shit, shit, shit. I’m gonna-”

“Cum for me princess.”

That was all you needed. You legs squeezed frantically against his head, the euphoric sensations causing your back to refuse to rest against the bed. Satoru paid no mind to your repetitive whimpers as you began to come down from your high, his lips still stubbornly attached to your clit. It was too much, the previously pleasurable feel was now borderline painful, his sticky fingers removing themselves from your cunt.

You legs jolted occasionally each time he purposely grazed the bundle of nerves, continuing his efforts by using his tongue to tease around the now sensitive area, chuckling when your hips wriggled.

“Delicious.” His velvety tongue swiped his lips and he brought his fingers into your mouth. The tangy but familiar taste of your undoings were accompanied by his soft fingers, swirling around your tongue until your saliva created a mess.

“Shit, you’re so hot.” He groaned, the twitching of his cock was unrelenting. You pressed your legs together, the achy feeling of need returning. Reaching to kiss him, your hands started to undo his belt buckle,

“I want you.” You whispered, unable to look away from his eyes.

His lecherous eyes stared back at you, his fingers curling around your back as he brought you closer, now hovering above you.

“I want you too.”

In one swift movement, his cock was freed and he entered you, the new feeling causing you to cry out as he slowly bottomed out.

“Shit, you’re clenching like crazy baby.”

You couldn’t even reply, his thick shaft splitting you open, Satoru stared down at how you sucked him in, a creamy ring of your juices at the base of his cock. You felt him harden even more, he hadn’t wasted any time by helping you adjust. He started a rough pace, watching your perky tits bounce as he reached down and placed a nipple into his mouth. You were truly addicting, he thought, your whimpers becoming louder with the sticky sound of your cunt. Your pussy seemed to fit him like a glove, Satoru’s eyes wandered towards your soft tummy, at the faint bulge of his devouring and his eyes widened, using a hand to press against it and his ears welcomed your high pitched gasps.

“What’s the matter baby girl?” He cooed, chuckling at your stifled sobs and flushed cheeks.

“‘is too much...” You managed, barely able to communicate as he fucked you dumb.

You were so sexy, he thought.

You scooted away, his rough movements almost resulting in your head banging against the headboard but without missing a beat Satoru pulled you back, cock sinking into you with a new sensation.

“That’s not how this works, sweetheart. You’re gonna lie there and take it.”

His hands ghosted at your waist, using the soft tissue as a grip as he forcefully used your body, eyes unable to look away at how you took his thick, veiny member. Your pussy twitched as he licked a stripe at the side of your neck,

“Oh...you like that?” He muttered, sucking on your weak spot, he groaned when you tightened against him, knowing the tip of his cock was red and angry, your walls were too much.

You blink, eyes glossy and lips swollen from his kisses, Satoru’s marks were littered across your body, evidence of his ravishing as he continued his strong pace, cock driving into you with hunger. Your moans changed pitch,

“t’s...too much...can’t...too big.” You babbled, a new, insurmountable pleasure was ripping into your stomach.

“It’s too big?,”

Satoru wrapped his slender fingers around your neck, pressing down lightly as he smirked,

“I know.”

Your breath was slowly snatched from you as he gripped your neck harder, it somehow heightening the feeling of him around your cunt. His groans were turning you on, you always loved how vocal Satoru was.

Satoru paid attention to you, removing his hands and watching as you gasped for breaths. He grinned at how crazy your pussy went whenever he did that, he had really met his match. His cock twitched, indicating his nearing climax and you creamed shamelessly around him when his thumb lightly brushed your rosy clit. Your legs had gone to jelly at this point, but you securely clamped them around Satoru’s waist, bringing him even closer as your eyes closed in pleasurable agony.

“You gonna be a good girl and cum on my cock?” The way you cried and babbled nonsense, mouth messy with saliva as you drooled around his fingers, Satoru pressed at the pad of your tongue, cerulean eyes gleaming at where you connected. As he sinked into you again and again, the intemperate need to feel you squirt around him, he took your soft mounds into his mouth once more and before he knew it, you let out a long, drawn out moan as you found your release.

The white hot pleasure against your stomach snapped and as you orgasmed for the second time, a new warm sensation splashed against Satoru’s cock. Your juices dripped onto the bed, your pussy quivering and legs shaking as you rode it out.

“Fuck.” His azure eyes twinkled with amazement and you didn’t think he could possibly get any harder, as his member remained snug against your cunt.

Satisfied at your mess and how your slimy walls squeezed so torturously against him, Satoru’s own release was not far behind. With one last sound of pleasure, another warm feeling filled your pussy, spurts of the familiar white liquid spilling out of you as he slowed down his thrusts, emptying his balls into you with his repeated moans.

He pulled out, watching the results of his orgasm dribble onto his sheets. Using his fingers, he pushed the remaining liquid deep into you as a low moan escaped your lips. He brought his coated fingers to your mouth, and you licked them clean, humming against him.

As he hovered over you, his captivating eyes caught in the moonlight peaking through the curtains, illuminating his spacious room. He was so beautiful, you thought, mind now unclouded as your high disappeared. Instead, a lighter but warm feeling fluttered through you as Satoru bent down to give you butterfly kisses across your stomach.

“You’re gorgeous.” He whispered and he felt you smile against the top of his head, white tendrils tickling your nose as he placed himself on your tummy, careful not to crush you.

A comfortable silence lingered in the air, for the first time neither of you needed to fill it in with pointless words. You stroked his hair, content that he was still here and showing you affection even after sex, a concept new to the both of you.

After some time, with the both of you deep in thought about each other, Satoru’s head lifted and he made eye contact with you.

“I meant what I said earlier. I know this is new to the both of us so we can take it slow and I’ll probably fuck things up a few times but...I really do care about you, Y/N.”

Your eyes softened, as he glanced nervously at you. You had never seen him so vulnerable before and somehow it made you like him even more.

You extended your arm, your fingers tapping against his cheek,

“I care about you a lot too, Satoru. More than I’d like to admit.” You looked away, confused at how quickly the atmosphere changed from the desperate grappling of hands against skin to soft eyes and shy kisses. You were shy around him. You really did care about him but you also weren’t the best at articulating your thoughts, Satoru was always one upping you with his smooth talking.

His smile softened before his eyes changed, amusement dancing across his face.

“Well why wouldn’t you like me? I’m amazing.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed him away, his hands grabbing you and placing warm kisses around your neck. You melted into his touch, only now realising he hadn’t even properly undressed, unlike you who was completely bare.

He paused as you wriggled uncomfortably in the messy and slightly damp sheets, the both of you a tangle of limbs.

“Is this a bad time to ask if you’re on the pill?”

You stared at him.

“You are such an idiot.”

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #gojo satoru #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you

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bemylord · 3 years

Text

ᴏᴠᴇʀʜᴇᴀʀ ᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴇx

synopsis: levi had accidentally listened to you and erwin having sex and gets super turned on. he starts to notice all the subtle touches you give one another through the day, he thinks that you don't know that he sees it, but both of you just want to see how far this can go until levi snaps.

thanks @gipumar for an idea, i hope you'll like it!

pairings: levi x fem!reader x erwin.

warnings: nsfw, exhibitionism/voyeurism, threesome, oral [both fem and male receiving], cigarettes and alcohol mentioned, upprotected sex, size kink, double penetration.

w/c: 3.6k

the room is illuminated with a muffled light from the trembling candle in the corner, which barely burns by reason of an opened window. the captain levi has been stuck here since he came up from the escapade, trying to deal with the stack of paper. he's smoking the cigarette apathetically, frowned and clench the cheekbone, reading the next article.

levi lazily rubs his eyelids, straightens his legs, taking a comfortable position. erwin gave a massive heap of different articles and direction, saying: 'we lack chaste people here who can deal with it, would you mind do it?' levi couldn't say no - the question formulation will hit on his ego if he rejected the task.

the head tossed back when the flame of the candle had faded out from the breeze outside. the ackerman is out of composure, not having the force to maintain an urge deep inside his soul. sitting in a semidarkness room when only the faint light of the moon illuminates the office.

he stood up from the chair, coming to the window. outside the building only drunken people are speaking loudly about nonsense. the captain snorted, exhaling cigarette smoke he'd lost count of. third or fourth, maybe seventh - he doesn't know; all he knows is to deal with a paper and take a warm shower after all.

'he probably busy or sleeping, erwin' he hears a female voice from erwin's office. first, he thought is his hallucination awaken due to the work he's been doing.

'wait for me in our bedroom, honey, i've practically done with it'

'i want you now, my captain'

he overhears the dialogue he shouldn't have to listen to, break into the intimate relationship. that's counting as voyeurism, hearing as his commander, although he rarely calls him the commander only among the people to be respectful, spending his time with you. levi recognized your voice by the little whine you put at the last word; you did it seldom when erwin prohibits to do your requests. levi isn't the type who would spying or pursuing insofar as heard someone voice in the erwin's cabinet.

he took a puff from a cigarette, wiggling his head as he's trying to deal with an obscene thought in his mind. levi is used to be stern and rectilinear, but currently, his clarity of mind hammered with one question: they'll be doing intimate intercourse in the office?

nobody's gonna find out the captain of the survey corps being listened to how his allies are having sex. how would they know? he crossed his arms on the chest, holding the cigarette with his teeth, prick up his ears.

it's inappropriate to be listening.

in the next room reached out chair squeak and some heavy objects, probably books that being on erwin's desk, fall onto the ground. perhaps his hearsay has improved, thanks to the dead silence in the town. people are peacefully sleeping, only a few drunken people are wiggling among the alley. he extinguished his cigarette on the wooden table, leaving it there as well, and left the room. a clock is reading far past midnight: cadets are sleeping, even though several people guarding the building, probably lurking in a secluded area and taking a nap. whilst levi is scrutinizing through the papers, erwin is having a ravishing night.

the hallway is illuminated by few candles, the atmosphere is electrifying: getting caught by spying at the erwin's and his lover isn't the wonderful feeling he'd like to feel. the door is closed, but sounds are still coming from the room: smooches and squelches, the quiet whimpers you're trying to quell, are knocking out from your hazy mind. if there would be an opportunity to have a peek on you, levi'd take advantage of it, scorching the image of you and smith naked deep in his mind.

not that levi couldn't please him by himself or find a girlfriend, what happened if he'll take a quick peel on both of you? clearness of his mind is dazzling by the cigarettes he had been smoking. he's declining the thought it may be because he hasn’t gotten a possibility to masturbate in a few weeks. presumably, the momentary expedition had taken more days than it should be, leaving levi in a desperate state. naturally, he can go without masturbation for months but he is a grown man with needs, as silly as it may sound.

'captain, slow down if you don't want to be heard'

'he probably busy or sleeping, have you forgotten your words, dear?

the sudden way of arousal covered him, levi has gotten barely prominently shiver, as he heard your conversation. obscene squelches are increased and levi should be gone, if he doesn't want to be declassified. it was obvious from the sounds that you're having a climax, as your previously whimpers turned into the purr reaching it. levi swallowed with a certain breathlessness, looking down: it must those days without touching himself.

'i'm not done with you, naughty girl. do you think you dare interrupt me from my work? leave the room after me'

it's the moment when levi shall pace back to his office and mind his business but still standing there, wait for erwin's appearance. he takes some steps back, pretending he left the room contemporaneously with erwin, without knowing it. proofs of being worked as hell are his sweet on the hairline and bags under eyes: he has made an excuse. why he must make excuses for leaving the office at the midnight? erwin went from his cabinet covered with a little bit of sweet on his forehead and an unbuttoned shirt.

'levi? aren't you supposed to sleep? it's ... quite late for awakening'

the ackerman snorted, rolling his eyes. the erwin's appearance instills him he had been pleased for the time levi's been doing the task. smith yet is regaining breathing, closed the door.

'i'm doing your task, erwin, you forgotten? anyways, can we talk in your office?'

'i'd like to, but i'm exhausted as you. why don't we both come to our rooms and take a nap?'

the levi's mind issues a telltale signal to stop talking and do as erwin told him: he needs to remove the bulge in his pants. light illumination in the hallway concealed a levi's problem.

'yeah, you should take a nap, you look really exhausted. come to my office as soon as you'll wake up, erwin'

as soon as he turned around toward his office, the commander quite exhaled, button his shirt. as he closed the door, he tossed his head back against the door, unzipped the pants to release the problem. what happened in the hallway, why he acted like a moron if he can go back to his chair and scrutinize papers. something snapped in the mind to dare to talk with erwin after his quick sex unawares him and declassified. he should have been gone when he overheard as both of you reached the climax, wanting to have aftercare in the bedroom or kiss each other there without being exhibited. the clarity of mind was full of dirty thoughts he was incapable of deal with, still having a dizzy mind. those days without even touching the area he wanted, might put him in a trouble.

levi is melting when he spat in his hand, making strokes on his cock. a blissful moment of delighting. he never thought that spying on someone who is having intercourse will set him on the pleasure. with the other hand, he clutches his shaggy hair, imaging erwin and you in his office having sex. erwin spinning you around to face the desk, going inside you without a warning, stretching your walls. you could feel his curves and every vein in his dick, you swear you could: erwin's dick is hot and hard of the anticipation. foreboding the orgasm which will come over him with a wave after a few minutes being inside you - marvelous.

'i'm gonna deal with papers, not imagining them being closed'

he has your hands behind your back, squeezing your wrists hard 'till you can't fill your fingers, leaving on your soft skin half-moons, subsequently will turn on into small bruises in the morning.

'i shouldn't have to think about it, it's obscenely'

the climax makes you and erwin melting: you're squeezing his dick, making him lose the vestiges composure.

'maybe i'm gonna think about it once'

- - -

the next days were less troubled: levi was training new soldiers, trying not to stay up too late, so that he won't have repeated incidents. he was trying to read a book but failed up by caught himself thinking about that night. levi couldn't help himself every time he looks at you or erwin side. it wasn't a big deal - getting caught isn't a good memory, but levi thinks both of you didn't know he was listening to it.

it was less troubled until he started to notice all frisky touches you gave to erwin. those touches were clearly aren't purposeless or aimless, you rub his shoulder when you see nobody's watching. you look around, ascertaining everyone is busy, ruffle your lover's hair, laughing as he takes your wrists, mildly leaves kisses from the wrist to the knuckle. it doesn't bother him - conversely, he smiles when sees the way erwin raises the corner of his lips ogling at you.

being in love is cool, especially when the feelings are mutual. once levi peeks, not that he was spying all the time on both of you, he went out from his bedroom to have a glass of water. you and erwin were at the dining room, chatting and laughing over some situations, maybe you had been planning your future together. suddenly, erwin hoisted you up by your waist as you were enclasping your legs around his torso - you're a perfect couple, aren't you?

light touches when erwin checks up on new soldiers, you lightness conducted at his spine with your finger, perhaps feeling as he got tensed by your unexpected touch. ackerman isn't jealous but deadpan - why you kept touching him if there's a risk to be declassified. you aren't children to hide your relationship, no one dares to acknowledge to discover your secret as if it can be called a secret.

the night he awakes isn't a specific one, levi has sort of nightmares of war and titans inside the wall, demolishing and killing people, soldiers, crushing everything on their way. a small walk around the building may help him takes a brief nap. apprehensions about you and erwin disappear well, yeah, he has gotten both of you, but it won't happen again. although, he got turned on that night, masturbating lately at his bedroom, scorching an image of you at smith's lap bouncing on his dick, sort of deviated thoughts he couldn't get out of your head.

the hallway is illuminated by candles, guards are sleeping or chatting at the roof because no one could make debauchery due to levi and erwin are here. soldiers basically scared of being beaten by levi, knowing his passion to learn dissidents to be respectful and know their place.

levi walks among rooms in a leisurely way, enjoying the silence and solitude of a warm night. the wind isn't exhausted the candle in the building - calmly summer night without any accidents.

for the time being.

sitting in the cellar by his own, drinking the sturdy alcohol, attempting to recover from thoughts: it's sort of drug he is addicted to. addicted to sounds and imagies in his mind. regardless of how many shot glasses he has been drinking, he could feel the intoxicated state, a certain state of being wobbly, but his mind keeps being clear.

returning back to his bedroom, thinking that alcohol might help him take a short nap, he overhears your voice from erwin's room. he's losing his self-restraint as your voice is quieting down for a second, again he hears your purr and mumbling, not being unable to understand what you're muttering. levi coming close to a small gorge between the door and the frame, swallowing, before have a peek at you.

just as he was contemplating: you're half-naked, wearing only pants, baring your upper body to your lover. heartbeats are increasing when he takes a look one more time, seeing as the commander stroking the bulge through the trousers. he shouldn't have to be here, ogling at you and erwin but he couldn't move, only stares at you squeezing your nipples, quelling your moans by biting your lips.

it won't happen again, it won't happen again, but it's happening right now, levi is substantially is peeping at you. the commander is sitting at the edge of the bed, smirking at your naked body, perfect and well-tightened body.

he should run away from your bedroom, it isn't correct to barge into your intimate life or relationship at all but one look at your body is melting him, overwhelming the mind. you moved on his lap, slightly push your lover into the bed, sat on the bulge. you're squirming on it, making round movements on it, unbuttoning the shirt.

pads of your fingers are feeling the muscular erwin's body, running over his abs and chest, breathing out heavily. you stood up only to tug your trousers down to the floor, stay completely naked moving again into his lap.

'for how long you're gonna stand there and watching us having the fun, not joining?' the question you uttered was addressed to levi; you turned toward the door, having an absolutely accurately he is standing behind the door. 'levi, come and play with us, we know you've been listening to our sex in our office'

he acts childish but opened the door, entered the room. the atmosphere is arousing captain, seeing woman's body like it his first time. you aren't hiding your body though. levi absentmindedly stares at you, closed tight eyes trying to make an excuse yet not having enough time. his hairline his hairline is covered with sweat as evidence of his excitement. your taken body is beckoning him to touch your curves, leave on your neck a couple of hickeys as if you were taken by him. levi might be listened to by your sweet moans but not touching you.

'come and touch her, levi, it's alright'

erwin's permission makes levi moves to the bed, stood by your back as his long fingers running over your back to the nape.

'i-i won't be soft with you as erwin does, y/n, you get it?'

you laughed at his warning while smith rolled backward, providing you a bulge.

'wanna feel two dicks in my cunt'

you uttered the phrase frivolously like it's the basic phrase you say every day, not worrying what will be in a few minutes. your words were like a red cloth for a bull released from the corral. he's losing composure when staring at how fastly you unzipped erwin's trousers, quickly going over the glans of the penis with a tongue. before you could put his cock inside, you felt on your head levi's palms, holding your by temples, swiftly forcing to place your mouth into the dick.

you'd lie if you tell you don't like it.

with one hand, levi makes a fist of your hair, regulating the pace and the depth of penetration of the penis inside you, controlling every your movements, adjusting everything on his own. with another, he reached down to your already willing pussy, as you were sopping for hours, finally getting what you've been needy. your wetness is overwhelming, you're constricting when he entranced with one finger inside, massaging spongy spot deeply there, knocking out a serial of quell whimpers from your mouth.

levi kneels, wobbling for a second, shall he continue or stop. the answer to his unnamed question was your shift back in levi's face, kinda begging for initiating from his side to lick or press his fingers on your swollen clit. you're definetely been playing for some time before he interrupted their foreplay.

he tugged your hips on his face, lick from the clit to the wet entrance, making a serial of an acute moves on your hole, burying his face deep as far as it's possible in your pussy. your willingness and desire to be fucked by two thick cocks makes levi's cock twitched in the fabric, speeding up the shift of the tongue, keeping thinking about the future events.

'wanna feel two dicks in my cunt'

an echo of your phrase is on replay in his mind as a reminder that he should make you cum before giving you a double penetration. you're melting by receiving and giving oral, attempting to focus on sucking dick and wiggling on levi's face, when he slaps your booty. levi slightly bite your inner things, kissing the mark immediately back again to your drooling cunt.

ackerman put inside two fingers, stretching sticky walls, kissing your legs and ankles. being soft, retaining the remnants of composure, for now, to show the dark side afterward. afterward, he makes you cum on his fingers. you squeezed fingers when he's massaging that spot, feeling how your legs are shaking.

'keep sucking my cock while cumming'

erwin's severed voice didn't give it a chance to pull out cock, but you don't want to disappoint your commander. levi masterfully uses his fingers to make you shiver and bringing your knees together to climax as you're tensing and dripping. he didn't miss the opportunity to walk on the moist crotch, licking your juices.

levi is blossomed by your quelling moans and your willingness to obey a commander, though you wanted to stop sucking and scream erwin's name in delight. your desire you pronounced at the beginning levi couldn't forget, standing up from knees. you're still shaking and being mild from an orgasm you've gotten.

the thought of being flattened by two hot and muscular bodies, covered in sweat and those dicks are twitching, wanting to feel and stretch your cunt. you moistened commander's dick last time, moved your body between his member, leading his cock in your soggy hole, putting his cock inside with a squelchy sound.

the goosebumps run down your skin and your heart beats at a frantic pace. you gasps for the air, regardless of the opened window, it's hard for you to breathe. because of their bodies and fingers, because of the thought have your first penetration with the strongest men.

'i'm going inside, y/n'

a spontaneously levi's warning makes you bend over closer to erwin, kissing his lips, feeling the second dick inside you. you don't regret what you've said, digging your nails into the blond's strong shoulders as levi going inside, stretching you to the max.

at first, they give you a few seconds to adjust to the new feeling, before erwin did a slight thrust in you. he did it purpose: he wants to see his chest and shoulders dotted in the half-moons and patterns from your nail in the morning, so he could be mocking all day, telling you how dirty you were.

ackerman words 'i won't hold back, y/n, i'm going to be rough' come into reality, when he pulls your hair back, makes you arch your back. he holds your waist, going higher to clench your hard nipple. ackerman is closed to your ear, kissing under your earlobe to the jaw, moving in a very tight hole.

being flattened by two hot and muscular bodies is mind-boggling as their tips are reaching to the inner lump. smith's hands are running over your hips as he's ogling you and levi having a deep and humid kiss. sharing the lover is inappropriate but turns him on even more. the friction of two cocks going in and out, obscene squelches spread throughout the room. it's too much - incorrectly be fucking by the captain while you've got the one who can put on high, although two dicks feels too good to deny anything.

the shiver again caught your body as you're feeling your soon climax. both of them are feeling it too.

'cum one more time, constricting your cunt on our cocks'

the tense between your legs, and your orgasm crashed in an instant wave, creaming their dicks. the mess down there and your licentious attitude erwin's gonna remained you for weeks, telling how slutty you were, tightening over cocks and creaming on the length.

what happened next was like a fog - both of them yet took out their dicks to cum all over your body. the fluttering on your body is feeling perfect, had been fucked by two captains.

'how do you feel, sweetie?'

not giving a damn about formalities and the fact that you are his property or girlfriend, levi affectionately kisses your back, caressing your hips. erwin kissing your stomach, pressing your chest against his, tugs your face close to his, left a soft kiss on your lips. you didn't answer, there was no need for that: your contented expression was the evidence of your wonderful well-being. he lay down on the bed without strength, covering the blanket bodies, holding your waist, burying his face in the back of your neck. erwin holds your tiny hands in his, staring at how you falling asleep, smiling.

still, your request was admirably was made.

//~~//

#aot x reader #aot smut #aot oneshots #aot scenario #aot levi #aot fanfiction #levi x reader #levi smut #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman smut #erwin smith x reader #erwin smith smut #erwin x reader x levi #levi fanfiction #erwin x reader #erwin smut

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warmau · 3 years

Text

not knowing what to say isn't a foreign feeling to you, yet when you come face to face with ten outside his apartment on this summer morning, you are almost too petrified to even string a sentence together

he's really just........leaving

ten shines a big smile and from the open door you hear kun's exasperated voice asking why in the world ten is packing up his entire existence for a program that's going to last two months

"you look nervous"

ten jokes first, running a hand through his dark hair which he's spent the colder months growing out

"im the one going to a different country and yet you look like you might turn green"

his laughter tickles you and you force yourself out of the weird, frozen feeling, for his sake

"im not nervous - it's just this is our first summer apart since what, highschool?"

ten leans against the frame of his door and lets kun scuttle past him with a scowl

yangyang and hendery bounce after him with ten's insane amount of luggage

"yeah but it's two months, not two decades. plus....you know how much ive always wanted to do this."

right. and here you are being selfish.

"of course, i mean it's literally the birthplace of ballet."

"technically that's italy, but france is a close second."

"i hate you"

ten pulls you into his arms before you register that this is your goodbye hug

"i'll miss you too."

kun drives everyone to the airport, he complains and cries the most.

sicheng gives you a knowing look when ten takes your wrist in his hand and tucks your arm between his.

you ignore the look, and focus on ten. on him. and then - when the switchboard pops up his flight info - he gives a bubbly and excited

"ive gotta go!"

and then summer starts, just as he's gone

"so when are you going to tell him you're in love with him."

sicheng brings the big gulp he stole from hendery up to his lips and you keep your eyes closed behind your sunglasses

"sorry, yukhei's not my type."

"you know im not talking about yukhei."

you dig your fingers into the sand beside your towel, the beach is already so noisy so you pretend you don't hear sicheng, but you still feel him looking.

you guess a part of it is true, you love ten. who doesn't?

is that the core of the issue then, that ten is so available and loveable and charming, that it makes him also unattainable?

or at least, unattainable to you.

you hear your phone buzz inside your bag and sicheng is being dragged into the water by the rowdy rest of your friend group

it could be a text from ten?

your mind excites, but you put out that fire

it's probably just spam.

ten does text and even video call the first two or so weeks while he's away

you get blurry photos of food at cafes and the eiffel tower, random fancy looking dogs being walked on the small, cramped streets

ten's connection is kind of bad - but he still gleams through the fuzzy facetime camera as he shows you around the room the dance academy has provided

pangs of his happiness and excitement seep into you

and then there's the first sign of worry comes knocking and twirling through his door

a group of other dancers, all beautiful and strong, asking ten - from the limited amount of french you catch - if he's done, they're waiting for him to go to a show with them

ten gives you a scattered, quick goodbye. he says he'll video call again.

all you get is an update text almost five days later that has no pictures attached just a;

im ok - by the way i totally miss eating hot chips with you at midnight. ive had like a banana smoothie and that's it.

sicheng and kun are the first to pick up on the shift, you are quietly withdrawing to yourself

nothing makes you laugh

ten doesn't reply to your question about what the paris metro looks like, actually he doesn't even read it

kun nearly tugs hendery's ear red when he shares a snap story of ten pressed cheek to cheek with his new dancer friends in front of the louvre when you're in the same room

the thing is you are not jealous of any of them.

you don't go around trying to find their facebooks, clicking on their instagram profiles, comparing you and them.

you are just sad to your bones that they will understand ten in such a way that no matter how long you two have been friends

you will never, truly know

"you're his best friend"

sicheng reasons on the phone as you stare up at the wall above your desk, littered in old pictures and clippings and your gaze catches on the ticket stub from ten's first-ever solo dance performance

it had been a talent show in highschool.

it had been the first time you saw ten perform outside the corner of his cramped bedroom or the glimpse you caught meeting up with him outside the dance academy

he's in paris, he's with people who love it so much more than i do - they love dancing like he loves dancing.

i cannot understand that.

"i think you were right sicheng."

"im always right."

i do love him. when am i going to tell him?

you hang up after sicheng has his i told you so moment and stare at your screen

a notification flashes across the screen and it's a text from ten

the trains here are blue. i miss you.

you want to reply right away, so you open the message and start typing

i miss you too. actually, i think i finally understand why people who are in love are so hurt when they're suddenly left without their other half and ten you are my o-

you delete the sentence and make a face

nice. i miss you too.

you don't send it - or at least you forget to because your fingers are shaking and you exit out of the messaging app before checking

abandoning your phone, you turn on your side and stretch your hand out to reach the edge of the bed

there's enough space between you and it for someone to fit, so you remember the countless times ten has laid there

smiling and laughing and tickling your face with his sleeping breath

you can't even recall a conversation because there have been hundreds

suddenly you feel a warmth creep up your skin

hundreds of opportunities to tell him - and each time i chose to be a coward.

"you should write him a letter."

"this isn't a movie, what - you think im going to write a letter and he'll jump on the first plane from france to come to my side?"

sicheng cocks an eyebrow as if to say it is a possibility

"no. im not writing a letter. i'll suck it up and confess when he comes back."

you somehow end up writing a letter.

maybe because you really do want to just send a long text spilling your mushy, soft, pink feelings

but you know that's just not what ten deserves

he deserves (and you do too, but you won't admit this) a face to face confession

so you start retelling the moments that flutter up in your heart whenever you think about him

how he makes the room brighter when he's in it, how he dances with every bone, joint, muscle in his body - how he approaches it with no inhibition and true devotion that paints its way across his face when he practices, how he fits perfectly into the hole that grows more massive every day you don't see him

standing there across the hall - coffee in hand, gym bag with his scuffed dance shoes

by the time you're finished - the letter is longer than you imagine. there are parts crossed and scribbled out, repetitive thoughts, and stupid little comments and metaphors that compare ten to flowers or clouds or anything else pretty in nature

you cringe at yourself, but you do feel better

it could be your outline for when the time to actually tell him comes.

you shove the papers into an envelope, write ten's name and the address of his parisian dance academy just for the irony

and then make the mistake of letting it sit on your desk

in a matter of days, it has been swallowed by a bunch of other papers and trinkets

and when you're rushing around your room trying to get ready for another adventure to the beach - sicheng clinks the lollipop against his teeth and fishes it out - curious at the stamp

"do you want me to mail this?"

he asks and you're trying to find those sunglasses you literally just bought and grumble that sure, whatever - you'll meet him out by kun's car.

halfway to the beach, you turn in horror from the passenger seat to look at sicheng in the back

your eyes like saucers and a tremor in a voice

"wait. what did you ask me back in my room?"

sicheng's big smile is red from the candy, "your letter to ten."

and there comes the second pang of dread and worry that takes the overwhelming shape of your summer

oh my god - oh my god - maybe the letter won't even make it. i mean it's a letter to france....it'll take at least a month to get there. wait - it probably didn't even have a stamp on it. oh god maybe the address was totally off and some poor stranger is about to be subjected to my very incoherent feelings.....

every day you look at your phone and there's no texts or emails or anything from ten

his social media has gone quiet too

you throw your dignity down a well and ask all your friends if they've heard from him and they all scratch their heads and say no, it's been maybe a week since they did

your stress then turns from your love letter to a possibility that ten is in trouble

he kind of thrives from attention so it is very weird that he's so off-grid

you decide finally, on the day that it's been exactly a month and one day since he was gone, to call

you hover over the facetime button - should i text him first?

with a yelp, you nearly drop and crack your screen when ten's name flashes across the screen

you settle your breathing and tell yourself he hasn't gotten the letter, there's no way - since when has snail mail been efficient?

you answer and are about to ask what's up when ten waves something into the camera

"i got your letter."

maybe you go into rigor. because ten's eyebrows knit and he asks if your connection is ok, you aren't saying anything

you don't know if it's just because you miss him so much that you're able to drag yourself back into consciousness or because you are curious, in the depths of your mind, what his reaction will be

"o-oh. right- i-"

ten frowns and you think it's coming. the rejection is coming.

"is that why you didn't answer my text? you sent the letter instead?"

"your text?"

"yeah, i said i missed you and you read it and never responded."

a peek of a smile stretches on his pretty, bare face

"i never thought you were so romantic to send a letter."

something burns on your skin but you just try to make sure your hand holding the phone doesn't shake

"im not - i just, it was dumb sicheng said i should write it because - i don't know. he's the romantic, blame him."

"you're the one that said i could make a shy tulip open its petals with my laughter."

"oh god"

that smile turns into a grin

"and that my dancing manages to cast a spell on you."

you hide your expression by turning your face

"are you going to re-read the whole thing to me?"

"should i, you're so poetic."

"don't make fun of me."

your voice is serious this time, small and huddled, because you mean it

worse than being told he doesn't feel the same is to be ridiculed for holding him in your heart like this for so long

"im not making fun of you, the letter is beautiful."

you still can't look at him, it's so ten to be kind before he's cruel

"i could never write something like that - so i thought i would just call you and say it."

you don't need to love song yourself into telling me you just see me as a friend

"i love you."

your head whips back so fast your phone drops and you curse and ten can't help but laugh

"sorry, sorry -what did you say?"

he runs a hand through his dark hair, the lighting in his room is dim and illuminates him perfectly

a large white t-shirt engulfs his slender shoulders as he sits up against the wall

"i love you. i know it's corny to confess over facetime, but im guessing it's more forgivable than text?"

a bubble bursts in your stomach and it makes you feel lightheaded and inhumanely blissful all at once

"i love you too."

"more then friends right, because your letter had this part about kissing im very interested in."

you bite back your lip and nod, both embarrassed that he'd bring that part up too but also seeing ten - your close friend, your secret love - talk about kissing you

makes some of the neurons in your body go haywire

"good, i seriously was scared you might have been pranking me with thi-"

"i would never. im not hendery."

"oh how are they, ive been super busy with the practice for a review so i haven't talked to anyone."

another thing you love about him, he keeps everyone in. he leaves none of his friends behind. he pretends like he couldn't have a care in the world, but he cares more than anyone else.

"he's ok, he almost crashed kun's car yesterday."

ten shrugs, "expected."

and like that - everything is still somehow the same. there is no awkward phase after you've talked about your feelings for each other at all.

because your love doesn't come as a one hit punch because ten is beautiful, although he is to an unfair degree

it comes from the experience of being around him. having so much of him. maybe even getting a little addicted.

you do talk more on the phone, no more long pauses even though ten's practices get more grueling and you tell him to take his time to rest

but he's sweaty on the practice room floor - texting you - telling you everything is sore but the thought of seeing you soon makes it all better

it's three days before ten is scheduled to fly back that he has his review and you are biting your fingernails waiting for him to tell you about it

when you get a youtube link at like three in the morning - you click it and someone has recorded ten's performance

somehow, he looks more graceful than you've ever seen him

a new text comes in when it's almost done

'i think i did well - can i get a reward?'

'you'll get a really good one when you're home'

he sends a winking emoji and you can't fall asleep after because you wonder what he's expecting, you'd meant a kiss - had he meant more?

you wouldn't mind that at all.

xiaojun is being pulled away from the conveyer belt by kun and hendery is asking sicheng for a sip of his starbucks as you all wait for ten's plane to land in the airport lobby

you two have not told anyone - mostly because you know there will be endless questions you won't have answers too and sicheng might literally never let you live it down

so you wait for ten to be here so you can suffer together

you see the gates from his flight open and sicheng mutters that you look like you're going to pop like a goddamn balloon

for once in your life, you don't snide back at him, folding your hands in front of you and tippy-toeing to see over the crowd

and then, like seeing him for the first time all the years ago when you first met, ten comes out

hendery and xiaojun try to go for a running jump, but the older members hold them back because everyone can sense whats coming

you dash toward him and ten doesn't stay still either - you two collide so hard it almost hurts, but you don't care at all

ten's duffel bag falls over his shoulder and your hands are wrapped around his neck before he can even say your name

it's a first kiss that couldn't be more characteristically fit for you

sweet, big smiles tasted on lips, and interrupted by none other than your group of friends gasping in a symphony of shock

except for sicheng - he knew

ten tastes like you imagine he would taste, maybe because in smaller ways you've already had doses of the sunshine that radiates off him before

he keeps his hands wrapped around your waist as he looks down into your eyes

"mon amour"

"is that really all you learned in france?"

"ummm yeah, i don't know how to say let's get out of here and back to my place even though im pretty sure someone said that to me at some point."

you pout, "don't try to make me jealous."

"never!"

ten chuckles as you press your face into his neck and hug him close

the only way you get pulled apart is because someone (kun) reminds you all you're still at the PUBLIC airport

the drive back is a frenzy and everyone wants to know everything and not about just you two - because you're "two" now - but about france and traveling and ten's dancing

like you'd sensed - nothing has really changed

just this time, your fingers are locked in tens. and the warmth you longed for in silence is suddenly all out in the open.

funnily enough, you and ten don't ever write letters to each other again.

ten just doesn't like writing - it takes too much sitting down

and you are horrified everytime he fishes your love confession out of the memory box and dangles it above your head as leverage

it's how he convinced you into adopting the first cat. now you two have three.

so when you and him are deciding the best way to let all your friends know about your upcoming event you cross out mailed invitations

"we can make an email list."

your legs are thrown over his thighs on the sofa and he's resting the laptop on you them

"let's just make an instagram post: wedding in our backyard on thursday - you're invited."

ten pinches his nose

"we are not having a backyard wedding. we could not fit everyone in my dance company into it anyway."

you play with your engagement band and sigh

"fine, fine. what about.....we just call everyone and tell them. if we call kun right now he'll let all of the world know by the end of the week."

ten agrees with a hum, but then starts typing and you lean over to see

"bulk wedding invites? you're giving in?"

he closes the laptop and tosses it to the side, easily and gently pushing you down onto your back to hover over you with a small content sound

"i am. but we don't even have to write the letters - some company will do it for us."

his lips are inches from yours and all of a sudden you're young again - waiting to kiss him for the first time at that airport

"you know we'll still have to write vows right."

he is about to kiss you, he's so close and your eyes are closing

"i'll just read your letter outl-"

"TEN NO!"

he laughs, laughs until he finally does kiss you and then laughs again when he pulls back - the overflowing amount of love that exists in that moment is potent

you tell him to get over that old thing, but he shakes his head

"never, when again in all the lives i live is someone going to say i could make a shy tulip open its petals with my laughter?"

#i know his bday was in february please im still working through them cries #ten au #ten imagines #ten scenarios #nct au #nct imagines #nct scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv au #wayv scenarios #sfw #nostolgic!au #ten #member: ten #im sicheng through all this

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