#and now losing him is really playing into my daddy issues and abandonment issues | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starlightxsvt · 2 years

Text

— Gentleman | h.js (M)

genre ➳ sugar daddy au, strangers to lovers, pwp, angst and fluff. part of the Sugar Spice and Everything Nice project.

pairing ➳ dom!Joshua x sub!inexperienced!female reader

word count ➳ 21.2k

warnings ➳ profanities, ANGST, abandonment issues, toxic family, minor character death, mentions of addiction (drugs), emotional constipation, arguments, kissing, marking, age gap, daddy kink, hard dom!joshua (he is a gentleman in the streets and a freak in the sheets literally 🥴) brat!reader, so much teasing!!! bdsm themes- nipple play, marking, fingering, ice play😳, spanking (belt), pussy slapping, crying, female oral, cum eating, virgin sex, rough sex, unprotected sex(don't do this irl!!!), creampie, multiple sex scenes (lmk if I forgot smth)

synopsis ➳ a silly dare leads you to him and he has you charmed quickly. but matters of the heart can never be that easy, especially when you want to avoid them.

playlist ➨ sugar daddy- queen herby // sugar- maroom 5 // guys my age- hey violet // i know you care- ellie goulding // astronomy- conan gray // tell it to my heart- meduza // soory- halsey // one last night- vaults // i fell in love with the devil- avril lavinge // imperfect love- seventeen

a/n: (yes this is a re-upload, I hate Tumblr it still isn't showing my post in tags wtf) and at last we're at the end of this journey! I can't tell you how much of a pleasure it has been for me to share this series with you all. i gotta admit I went all out for this one like-jsvvabakasbvsvs joshua is such a freak here and it's hawt okay. i'd also like to sincerely apologize for the delay. now, without further ado, get cozy and happy reading!

His eyes are extraordinary, captivating.

They are beautiful and dark, shaped like a deer's, watching your every movement cautiously. You do the same as your hands fidget with the strap of your bag on your lap. The waiter returns, bringing you your iced tea and a cup of latte for him. You quickly take a sip of your tea, letting the refreshing drink bring back life in your throat as he does the same.

You observe him, eyes peeking over the rim of the glass. He's wearing a black suit with a plain white tee beneath it. The only jewelry on him is a Rolex, sitting cozily on his wrist, which is quite veiny. His dirty blond hair is pushed back neatly, the length long enough to reach the nape of his neck and you mindlessly muse how they'd feel to touch.

"So, you are saying this was a dare?" The man questions.

An embarrassed smile creeps on your face. "Yeah, my friends dared me to do this. And I saw some good reviews about this app so I decided, why not."

Meeting this stranger, a potential sugar daddy was a task assigned to you by your friends after a drunken night full of talks about your celibate lifestyle. Not wanting to look like a coward, you took on their dare and decided to sign up on a sugar dating app that led you to meet this beautiful man in front of you; something you entirely did not expect.

What you expected, instead was a fifty-something man, old and gross and you had planned to just entertain him for a while before announcing this was a stupid dare and never coming near him again.

Yeah, that was the plan.

After all, the texts you had exchanged with this man weren't really a solid way to figure out his age. They were short and brief, just introductions and the designated place of meeting. His profile picture wasn't frankly very giving either; a silhouette of a man sipping on a wine glass with an aesthetic backdrop. You had decided not to ask for a photo or any other information because you didn't want to lose interest even before going on that date.

But turns out, there had been a pleasant surprise waiting for you.

"That's all good but what I need to know is are you really looking for a sugar daddy? Otherwise, I should get going." The man, Joshua, states, hands coming to rest on top of the table, his eyes serious yet gentle. He has this calm yet dominating aura surrounding him and you can't help but admit that it draws you in.

Am I looking for a sugar daddy?

You haven't considered this seriously until now. It was supposed to be a one-time thing, meeting an old dude and flipping him off just so you can tell your friends you tried and ended up meeting a grandpa with stinky feet but now that a young, handsome billionaire sits opposite to you, you find yourself reconsidering everything.

This is a marvelous opportunity for a broke college student like you. Your bills and loans will be paid while also providing a much more comfortable life for you, one where you don't have to live in an apartment the size of a shoebox.

"Are you looking for a sugar baby?" You ask him instead. The corners of his mouth turn upwards slightly as he replies, "I'm here, aren't I?"

You nod, reclining into the chair and sighing deeply. "I do actually. Need a sugar daddy, I mean. Like— I haven't really considered this seriously because...well," you shrug, not wanting to point out how pleasantly surprised you are seeing him and all his hotness. You don't want to butter his ego on the first meeting. "Anyway, yes. I have bills and loans to pay. So I guess I'll be your sugar baby...if you're interested."

He watches you amusedly, his eyes shining in mirth. "Of course I am. I must admit I find you very... fascinating. It will be my pleasure to be in your company."

Fascinating, huh?

"You've known me for like ten minutes."

"And that's enough." He decides, reaching for his latte to take a sip, never breaking eye contact with you. You wait for him to explain further and he takes the hint as he links his fingers together, once again resting them on the table, his posture all business-like. "I've never had a sugar baby but I assure you, you don't have to do anything that you're not comfortable with. For now, I'd like you to attend events with me as my date."

Such a gentleman.

"I'm more than happy to do that." You say gladly, trying to prevent a smile from breaking into your face. Is it gonna be this easy? Do men this nice and sweet even exist anymore? "But I don't understand why you would go out of your way to spend money for some company. I'm sure there is plenty of people...interested."

Joshua chuckles. "But I'm not interested in them. They are predictable and have a rather plain personality. I thought taking a new approach would be good. And I'm glad I did because you seem quite like a handful."

"I'll take it as a compliment." You mutter dryly, eyes narrowing on him. He laughs, his eyes forming half-moons. "It was a compliment, _____. I'm looking forward to spending time with you."

You open your mouth to reply but the loud ringing of his phone interrupts you as he mumbles an apology, fishing out the device from his pocket. He frowns at the screen before sighing. "I'm really sorry but I need to get going. I'll contact you. And if you need me, you know my number." He flashes you a dashing, almost flirty smile as he stands up and nods at you before accepting the call and marching out of the place, leaving you in a daze.

You can't believe that just really happened. You have a freaking sugar daddy now— not an old man with a huge belly and stinky feet but a young, hot gentleman. Shaking your head amusedly you fetch your phone from your purse and tap on your group chat with your girlfriends.

GUYS YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT JUST HAPPENED!!! I NEED TO THANK YOU TWO!!

"So you're saying he's young and handsome and polite?" Kira asks for the hundredth time, sighing wistfully. "Damn, maybe I should try that app too."

"You really should." You take a bite of your french toast. "All the reviews I saw were great but I can't believe I got so lucky."

Naomi murmurs under her breath, "Fuck yeah, you did girl." Her fingers glide over her phone as she googles the man centering on the topic of your discussion. "Joshua you said? Of Hong Corporations?"

Humming, you nod, watching your friends as they hover over the phone, intently watching all the information that shows up. "He's so damn hot," Naomi whistles, giving you a dirty look. You roll your eyes and before you can make a comeback, Kira asks bluntly. "You're gonna have sex with him right? He wants to get dirty with you, right?"

You groan, tossing the napkin by your plate at her. "Shut up! Sorry to disappoint but he actually said that he won't do anything that'll make me uncomfortable. He didn't seem desperate for sex."

"Such a gentleman," Naomi pipes in, her voice dreamy. "But what's the fun in that! He's literally sex on legs! You gotta do it with him!" Kira's voice is loud, so loud that a few heads from the surroundings tables turn to look at you, making your face burn in embarrassment. Kira giggles sheepishly before whispering. "Seriously. It's time you pop your cherry."

You scowl at her while Naomi snorts, covering her face as she tries to laugh discreetly. You sigh. "You all are moving way too fast here. I just saw him once! What if he decides he doesn't wanna do this? I've yet to hear from him." You murmur, your voice more anxious than you would have wanted it to be.

A somber look settles on their faces as your friends watch you sympathetically for a while. Kira reaches out to grab your hands in reassurance. "Hey. Babe, it's gonna be all good. Of course, he'll call you. He's a freaking businessman. He wouldn't have wasted his time if he was not interested."

"Yep. You just need to be patient _____. Don't worry so much. Trust the process." Naomi smiles at you softly.

"Good things don't really happen to me, so..." You avert your gaze, chewing on your lower lip. You hate yourself for ruining the mood, for feeling pathetic and doubtful.

Old habits die hard, you suppose.

"Hey," Kira calls for you. "It's gonna be all fine. Trust yourself, okay? And you know what, let's stop talking about him. You won't believe what Soonyoung asked me last night."

"What?" Naomi asks dryly as you both wait for her answer. "He freaking asked me if he can buy a tiger suit for us so that he can fuck me while wearing it." She replies as your jaw falls loose.

"No way!" You and Naomi yell at the same time. "Oh my god, he's fucking nuts." Naomi groans and so do you as you ask. "What did you say? Please tell me you didn't—"

Kira interrupts. "I said yes. I mean, I don't mind. I'm kinda interested, actually."

"Oh, sweet lord!"

"No fucking way!" You and Naomi gag.

Everyone has ups and downs in their lives. But for the majority of your life, you remember only experiencing downs. At first, it frustrated you to no end, making you feel unbelievably lost and hopeless but now you've come to accept it. You try to be content with what little you have and you always keep your expectations to the lowest.

College has been hard and expensive but the thought of letting go of your dreams is harder. Your dreams are what have kept you alive and strong through all the downs you have faced, so even though you had to take a huge loan and juggle two part-time jobs, you tell yourself it will all be worth it in the end. And maybe, fate has finally smiled upon you by bringing Joshua to you.

It has been two days since you met him and you have to admit anxiety is settling in your bones. The radio silence is disheartening, making you expect the very worst, like a habit. As you sit in your bed and overthink all your brain juices out, your phone rings, making you jump. The caller ID is unknown and with a frown, you pick it up.

"Hey. It's me."

It's him. Joshua.

Your heart beats loudly.

"Hi."

"Sorry, I was really busy the last few days. But I expected your call." He says.

"You said you'd call me." Your voice has an edge to it, almost like a sad lover who had been waiting for her boyfriend to call.

He laughs softly. "That I did. I apologize. And I was hoping you could accompany me to a dinner this Friday."

You bite your lip. "I don't mind. I mean, I'm free."

"Lovely." He hums. "I'll send you the contract of your payments via email. Let me know if you have any complaints."

"Oh...okay. I will."

"Good. I need to get going," he sighs. "I'll see you this weekend, sweetheart. Dream of me." He hangs up with a promise.

Letting out a wistful sigh, you take a look around your tiny apartment, all your things filling up every inch of available space and leaving barely any room for air. Sighing, you fall back into your bed, smiling softly.

It's all about to change.

The past three weeks have probably been the most eventful weeks of your life. Joshua was quick to welcome you into his circle as you first showed up with him at the company dinner. The money that you are being rewarded with after every appearance is equal to months of your rent and let out a squeal of glee when you checked your bank account the next morning.

However, his generosity didn't stop there. Over the weeks, he has sent you the prettiest bouquet of flowers with little thank you notes, sometimes chocolates too. He also sent over a pair of designer shoes and a handbag, making you almost faint as you felt the smooth, luxurious item below your fingertips for the first time. Sure, you expected to be a bit richer after agreeing to go out with him but you didn't expect these random, dare you say, romantic gifts every often.

Over the last few weeks, Joshua has also developed a habit of coming over to your place, just to chat while having a meal. It surprisingly feels nice and comfortable; his presence in your tiny house finally giving you a sense of belonging so you always agree without a second thought. Though the embarrassment you felt the first time he showed up at your minuscule apartment was astronomical even though you shouldn't have. You were scared he was going to judge you based on your living conditions or worse, pity you but he did none of that and simply made himself at home.

However, today, he has asked you to come over to his place, saying that he had his chef come over to help him with the food. You agree immediately as the thoughts of spending the rest of the day with him make you brim with excitement. You put on the nicest clothes you have and do a little makeup, a habit you've picked up ever since you've been with him; wanting to look your very best around him. You sling the Chanel bag he has gifted you over your shoulder and just as you are about to put on your shoes, your doorbell rings, perplexing you.

It's noon. You're not expecting anyone.

With a frown, you open the door and immediately, discomfort and annoyance settle into your bones as you meet your eyes with the visitor.

It's your sister.

With a rather bitter expression, you stand there, not welcoming her in or speaking but that doesn't faze her. With an exaggerated grin, she pushes past you. "Hey, sis."

Her tone makes you think she's mocking you and you huff, closing the door and turning around as you watch her scan your space with a rather judgemental stare. "What do you want, Melissa?" Your tone is snappy but you don't care. She feigns hurt, plopping down on your little sofa as she flips her hair over her shoulder.

"Can't I pay my little sister a friendly visit?"

"The same sister that you tried to get rid of? The one you didn't bother calling the past six months? Yeah, you can't." You hiss, your gaze burning into her. "Leave. I've somewhere to be."

Her eyes scan you up and down before settling on your Chanel bag. "Wow, nice bag. Where did you get that?" She asks with a smirk on her face. You sigh. "It's a knock-off."

She hums, probably not buying your words but you don't care. She has no business poking her nose into your life.

"What do you want?" You ask again, exasperated. Your day is ruined. You were so looking forward to seeing Joshua and now she shows up unannounced.

"Mom called. She needs money and I don't have it. Why don't you help her?" Your sister announces, nonchalantly, scrutinizing her fingernails. You immediately see red and your blood boils at her attitude. "Oh yeah? Well, I stopped caring since she walked out on us." You hiss. Your sister huffs in annoyance. "I don't care whether you care or not. Just give her some damn money."

"You really have no remorse." You chuckle mirthlessly, shaking your head in disbelief. "You and I both know you've more money than me yet to come to me, asking for it when I'm barely getting by. Not to mention how you tried to get rid of me— got rid of me, I should say, and now you're here, shamelessly asking me for money. How despicable."

Your sister glares at you as she abruptly stands up, seething, "You ungrateful bitch! At least I took care of you until you were eighteen!"

"Took care of me?" You scoff. "Sure, yeah. Since I'm an ungrateful bitch, I'll continue being that by not giving you or my goddamn mother any penny because I don't have any and you fucking know it!"

"Well, you definitely have enough to buy a fucking Chanel!" She hisses, "Don't think I'm stupid, _____."

"You know what, maybe I have enough to buy this or maybe I stole it. It's none of your business either way." You grit your teeth. "But I don't have enough to spend a penny for mom, especially when I know she'll waste it away drinking and gambling!"

She scoffs. "You really are still a selfish little bitch."

"Fuck you, Melissa. Get out of my house. I don't want to see you ever again."

She rolls her eyes, cursing you under her breath as she pushes past you and slams the door loudly on her way. Angry, hot tears that you've been holding until now start streaming down your face as your knees give up and you sink onto the floor, trying to keep more tears from falling.

No matter what you do, where you go your past just doesn't seem to let you go. You idly wonder if you would ever be able to get rid of it, forget its constant looming presence over your shoulders, holding you back from fully living your life.

A text seems to have been sent as your phone alerts you and blinking through the tears you check it. It's Joshua, asking if you are still coming or if you have changed your mind. You shake your head, smiling humourlessly at the text before you get up and try to collect yourself, wiping at your face so that you don't look like you've been crying like a madwoman.

Maybe having some good wine and delicious food in the company of a delicious man will help you get your mind off things.

"Hey there." Joshua smiles sweetly as he opens the door to his penthouse and moves aside, letting you in. He's dressed in a black fitted tee and grey slacks, a simple, slightly unnatural look on him as you have only seen him in suits until now. But he doesn't look any less gorgeous.

Your mind blanks out for a second as you stare at his chest, bulky and solid, a clear outline visible over his tee and you wonder how it'd feel to touch. Murmuring a shy greeting, you step into his foyer, large and shiny and absolutely breathtaking.

"Come in. I've prepared some snacks for us before dinner."

Joshua moves towards his kitchen while you look around the place, mesmerized. The main foyer of his house bathes in sunlight, courtesy of the floor to ceiling windows. Attached to the foyer is his modern, state of the art kitchen and dining area, all in various shades of white and grey. The area is spacious and bright, decorated with elegant pieces of furniture and fluffy rugs and gold framed abstract paintings.

"You have a pretty house." You murmur, not finding much else to say. His laughter can be heard. "Thanks. Would you like something to drink?" He turns around and offers you as you start taking off your jacket and set it next to your purse.

"Water please." You mumble, taking a seat by the dining table. He comes back with two glasses of water before serving some fancy looking appetizer, made by him and announces that you're having an early dinner as it cooks in the oven.

He sits opposite to you and talks animatedly, no doubt that he genuinely enjoys your company. It's not that you don't enjoy his, in fact, you love it, hearing his sweet yet slightly throaty voice and looking at that pretty face makes you forget about everything horrible in your life. He talks about the story behind this place, about how he actively participated in its making and you can clearly see he adores his house. You've also picked up his love for cleaning and maintaining his space; a rare sight for the male population you've encountered so far, especially someone like him.

The way he gracefully moves around the kitchen while conversing with you, you can tell he's a pro in this department too. Is there anything this man can't do?

Dusk falls as you both chat away, talking about everything and nothing and you don't even realize it's been hours. Your dinner has finished cooking and he starts setting up the plates as you pour some wine for the two of you. It doesn't escape you that he has not asked anything remotely personal about you when you expected him to. Is he being polite? Or is he not interested?

Your thoughts are interrupted as he brings dinner to the table and serves you, a sweet smile on his face as he waits for you to try his food.

"This is delicious." You try not to moan as you chew your first bite. His eyes crinkle in happiness as his melodic laugh rings in your ears. "Thank you. My chef helped too."

You hum, happily stuffing your face with food. You don't know if it's the delicious food; a huge change from your regular, cheap, ramen or toast, or his company that has increased your appetite. You genuinely enjoy his company, probably more than you should have and half of you don't want to return to your storeroom of a home tonight.

You need to get yourself together.

"_____?" He calls for you, jolting you out of your train of thoughts as you blink at him. "Is there something that's bothering you?"

"Huh?" You're fairly perplexed.

He shakes his head. "No, it's just that... You looked troubled earlier when you arrived. And you seem to be getting lost in your head, that's all."

Oh, he's quite the observer.

"I'm sorry," you murmur, eyes cast on your plate.

"No!" He quickly speaks, making you jump slightly. "No...you don't have to be sorry. I just wanted you to know that you can share your worries with me. If you feel comfortable, that is."

His gentle voice and soft gaze crumble down your defenses as you stare at the beautiful man and try not to start crying. You can't believe he actually noticed all that.

"Family issues. My mom...my sister." You find yourself uttering the words without much thinking. It's alarming how much he brings your guard down.

He doesn't say anything or ask for an explanation but watches you, his gaze reassuring and soft. You sigh, trying to get your thoughts together and just letting it all out. "Well, uh...my mom...she left me and my sister when I was... twelve I think. She found drinking and snorting cocaine more interesting than her daughters, I guess. But she always wasn't like this. Yes, she had a history of addiction but it improved after she married dad. Things were good until my dad passed away. She returned to her old habits after that."

You swallow, trying not to choke up on your words. Joshua watches you carefully his hand stroking your knuckles as it rests on the table. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." He whispers.

You don't yet you do. You've been keeping it bottled up inside you for so long that you don't want to stop now, even though you'll probably regret it later.

"Anyway, she went her way and left me with my sister." You continue. "It's safe to say she didn't like me. I was the unplanned child, of course, so she was more negligent with me. Anyhow, my sister wasn't exactly fond of me either and I guess she isn't fully to be blamed because she was barely an adult herself. We stayed with our aunt for a while before she turned eighteen. Then she had to take care of me and she wasn't quite happy with it. We fought a lot. She'd neglect me, make me do everything in the house while she brought her friends over and stuffs. When I confronted her about it things would get ugly. I made it through before I turned eighteen and then I left her. Thanks to the money my father left us individually, I got through somehow. And my sister got married last year." You take a sip of your wine, before continuing.

"Her husband is pretty well off. They even have a house. Yet today, she came to me for money. Apparently, mother called her and asked for some cash and she wants me to give her money when I'm barely getting by. I told her to fuck off." You sigh, downing your drink in one go. Your head hurts now. Whenever you think of those shitty people, you are bound to have a headache.

Joshua is silent, watching you with an expression you're unable to decipher and you start getting nervous. Did you scare him off? Does he find you burdening?

Anxiety almost chokes you up but his voice is kind when he says, "I'm really sorry you had to go through that. You don't deserve it."

His words are basic but they manage to tug at the deepest spots in your heart. You half expected him to offer you money like those obnoxious rich assholes but he sounds genuinely sorry and kind.

"Thank you for saying that." You mutter.

"Thank you for telling me." He says, his eyes meeting yours and the depth of his gaze brings goosebumps on your skin. You swallow, not breaking eye contact with him.

He looks even more beautiful now. Ethereal, like an angel. Gentle and calming and comforting. All the good things that pull you in like quicksand but also dangerous enough to scar you forever.

"Let's watch a movie, hmm?" He suddenly offers. You blink. "I...uhm, would love to. But I should get going."

"You can stay. I'd like it if you did," he says, his eyes watching you carefully. "If you're okay with it of course."

"Really? I can?" You're surprised.

"Why not. Don't take it otherwise. We won't have to do anything. You can take one of the many spare bedrooms I have." He smiles. You gape at him, weighing your options and you definitely don't want to return home tonight. So you whisper, "Okay, I'll stay."

"Great." He grins, standing up. "Let's choose a movie now."

About ten minutes later you sit next to him on the sofa, eyes trained on the romcom playing on the screen. There's a certain amount of gap between the two of you but he's close enough to have you distracted with his smell and warmth. You were never the cuddler type but right now you just want to wrap yourself around him and fall asleep. Maybe you will. Your tipsy mind won't really think twice to do it.

Joshua's hand is stretched out over the backrest of the sofa, occasionally brushing against you're back, unintentionally, you assume. His eyes are trained on the screen. He doesn't seem to notice your lack of focus on the movie or if he does, he doesn't comment on it.

The proximity between the two of you is dangerous, inviting. You distract yourself by playing with the blanket thrown over your legs but ultimately your thoughts land on the enticing man beside you. The room is now chillier than before as the night has fallen and you are thankful for the blanket Joshua had offered you. As you pull it under your chin and try to snuggle it, Joshua turns his head towards you. "We could cuddle...if you want."

You're embarrassed to admit how quickly you agree to it. With an enthusiastic nod, you immediately shuffle closer to him and tentatively rest your head on his shoulder, throwing the blanket over the two of you as his outstretched hand comes to wrap around your shoulder. You sigh, content and comfortable and he seems so too as he relaxes on the sofa.

There are no words exchanged but the atmosphere is cozy as you both watch the TV in silence before your eyelids start feeling heavy.

And soon you drift off in the comfort of his arms.

When you wake up you're in a bed. If you had to guess, it would be Joshua's guest room.

Sunlight pours through the large windows draped in silk curtains and you groan, stretching your hands and legs. The bed and the sheets and pillows are the comfiest things you've ever slept on which is probably why you feel so well-rested and at peace; a highly unusual occurrence for you.

After you freshen up, you step out of your room and climb down the stairs in search of Joshua. You find him standing by the dining table, finishing his coffee, a tablet in one of his hands.

As soon as he hears you he looks up and smiles, his eyes crinkling. "Good morning."

"Good morning," you murmur, voice a bit hoarse from sleep.

"I was about to wake you up," Joshua says, setting down the tablet. "I've to leave now. It's sudden but my father's friend suddenly called me this morning and asked me to play golf with him. Can't really say no to him." He shakes his head, clearly not fond of the idea.

"I'm so sorry. You're probably late because of me." You apologize, embarrassed. You've overstayed your welcome.

"No! Not at all." He assures. "In fact, if you want you can stay here today too. Though you'll probably need a change of clothes." His eyes move over your clothing, which you've been wearing since you've come here. "We could have dinner together tonight again. Or, if you'd like to leave, I'll drop you off on my way."

"I think I should leave. I've work to get done at home." You speak and he nods. "Sure but have some breakfast before we leave."

About an hour later Joshua parks his car in front of your building; his Porsche a weird contradiction in this poor, worn-out neighborhood. Unbuckling your seatbelt you smile. "Thank you for the ride."

"My pleasure. Oh and _____?" He calls as you're opening the door. "I've to attend an event tomorrow. A charity event. I'd like you to come with me."

"Sure." You don't have any plans and being with him is easily better than sitting around and moping in your tiny apartment.

"Great." He smiles. "My driver will pick you up at five."

As you exit his car and head into your building, you can't believe how excited you are and how much you're already looking forward to tomorrow. It's been a long long time since you've been this energized and happy and you realize just how much being with Joshua is shaking up your entire world.

Draped in a beautiful silk scarlet red dress and with Joshua's strong grip on your waist, you feel like a million bucks. The dress you're wearing today is exceptionally pretty, your favorite one from all that you've worn so far. It is one-sleeved with a sweetheart neckline, flowing down into a long slit that reaches up to your thigh. It's elegant yet playful and dangerous, not quite your type but Joshua seems to like it as you don't miss his eyes raking appreciatively down your leg now and then.

You've to admit it makes you feel excited. For whatever this night has in store.

Which doesn't seem much at first as you walk into the party with Joshua and feel the eyes of many cast at the two of you, mainly you. Men greet Joshua as soon as they see him and the ladies accompanying them scan you too to the bottom, with heavy judgment, maybe a little jealousy in their eyes but you can't bring yourself to care too much.

This is fleeting, after all.

The event comes to an end for the two of you as you finish dinner and as soon as you're done Joshua is escorting you out of the premises and towards his car. You can tell that he got bored with all the mindless chattering and you can't blame him for that. You weren't exactly enjoying yourself either.

As you sit by his side in the limo, Joshua's hands absentmindedly graze the skin of your leg peeking out from the slit. You've noticed he

has been touching you throughout the evening. His eyes are focused outside the window as he speaks. "Have I told you how lovely you look?" His voice is quiet, full of something you can't quite put your finger on as he turns his head to look at you. Not trusting yourself to speak you only shake your head and swallow, the look in his eyes hypnotizing.

Joshua's eyes move to your lips as his thumb reaches out to swipe across the flesh, sending shivers down your spine. He inches his face closer and keeping his eyes on your lips, he whispers, "I want to kiss you, _____. Tell me, do you want it too?" His eyes lock with yours and the flame of passion burning in them makes you weak in the knees.

"Yes," you squeak. There's an unmistakable spark of desire in his eyes as his lips curve upward just a little bit and he presses the button for the privacy screen of the car.

Then he wastes no time, immediately smashing his lips to yours as one of his hands cup your jawline and the other your waist. The kiss is intoxicating, his warmth and taste overflowing your systems as you become a puppet and let him guide you through it.

When he pulls back, he inhales sharply and the fire in his eyes grows ten times stronger. "We should stop. Before this gets too far."

It's like a bucket of ice-cold water has been splashed on you as you stiffen, your heart breaking.

Too far? What does he mean by that?

You can't help the bite in your voice, "Do you not find me attractive?"

Damn it. A part of you hates yourself for saying that. Your past insecurities have no room in this relationship.

A look of utter confusion settles on his face. "What?"

"No...it's just, we've been doing this for a while and you've never initiated anything with me. Am I not attractive to you?"

The glint in his eyes is dangerous and you can visibly see his jaw harden. "You've no idea what you are talking about, _____. I did not initiate anything with you because I didn't want to scare you off. I can tell you are inexperienced so I didn't want to make you do something that you're not comfortable with."

He can tell? Heat blares in your face, both from embarrassment and arousal. The look he's giving you right now makes you feel like he's gonna eat you whole and you're not going to stop him. Joshua continues, "But clearly, you misunderstood my cautiousness as disinterest so I've no choice but to prove you wrong." His hands snake around your waist as he utters, "Tell me to stop if you mean it. Otherwise, there's no stopping tonight."

That's it. That's all the warning you get before Joshua moves you onto his lap and kisses you, hard. You are sure your lips are going to be bruised and you don't give a shit. You keep clawing at his biceps and whine as he devours your face, not caring that you are in the back of a limo.

Your needs have reached their breaking point. You're going all in tonight. Whatever regret you have can wait until tomorrow because there is no way you are letting yourself off of this man tonight.

Joshua seems to be on the boat with the idea as even after a nasty make out session in the back of his car he doesn't keep his hands off your body as you both stumble into the elevator and then into his penthouse.

Joshua drags you towards his bedroom, your form gasping for air and stumbling over your heels but you've never felt this alive and excited. He doesn't hide his need for you and it brings a type of feeling to you that you've never felt before.

Powerful. Wanted. Sexy.

Your brain seems to have taken a backseat as you're no longer in control of your body, gladly doing whatever Joshua is making you do. He pushes you onto his bed and kisses you once more before standing back up and loosening the bow tie on his neck. Tossing it away he then starts unbuttoning his shirt, your eyes following each of his steps wantonly.

Once the material is off you can finally see his buffed chest in its full glory and your throat dries up immediately. He's so big and bulky, he could literally crush you with his chest. It's probably worrisome how much that idea seems to appeal to you.

"Up." His voice is husky and you blink, realizing he's telling you to stand up. With shaky legs, you do so and he turns you around to tug down the zipper at the back of your dress. "Take this off," he orders quietly and your hands start moving as you push the one shoulder of the dress down before tugging it lower and lower, down your waist as it finally pools at your feet.

Clad only in your black lacy panties, you can feel his hard stare, penetrating deep into you. While you want to cover yourself, the look of lust mixed with appreciation makes you stay still. Swallowing, you wait for his next words.

"Lie down."

Immediately you do so and watch him crawl over your like a predator. He starts by kissing your lips chastely before moving towards your jawline and then down the column of your neck, nipping and sucking every inch of skin. You gasp and mewl, hands automatically reaching to hold onto his back as you writhe underneath him.

His lips hover over your chest, his warm breath tickling your sensitive skin as he starts by kissing the flesh between your tits. Then he takes a nipple into his mouth and teases it, softly sucking at first before poking the hard bud with his tongue.

His hands stay rooted on your sides, on the bedsheets and the only form of his touch you get is his tongue. It drives you wild; the need to feel every inch of him on you.

"J-Joshua..." You moan.

"Daddy. You call me daddy in bed." It's a command and you immediately nod your head, all too eager to comply.

The man you've known until now is completely gone, no more the sweet, considerate man but instead a lust-crazed man. You never thought you'd be into this but damn if you aren't and you only become more sure when Joshua's crotch brushes against your leaking sex, making you shudder. "Daddy...your fingers please." You mewl, trying to give him your best puppy eyes. Your subconscious shakes her head at how easily the title falls off your lips.

Joshua chuckles quietly, meanly, giving you goosebumps as he keeps torturing your breasts like before. But this time he brings one of his hands down to your core and starts rubbing you gently. Your back arches off the bed slightly as you sigh in pleasure, his touch soothing the burn in your core.

"You want my fingers, baby?" His voice is deep as he removes his mouth from your tits and locks his eyes with you. Surprising you, he slaps your pussy, hard, making your mouth open in a silent scream. "You have it." He hisses and in one smooth motion, thrusts two of his fingers inside you. You squeal, hands fisting the bedsheets tightly as his digits easily slip in due to your overflowing arousal.

"Oh god, yes." You moan, eyes rolling back as you feel his thick fingers move inside you. Paired with the movement of his fingers and the heated look he's sending your way, you know you're not very far from your release. You squeak, "Go-gonna cum."

Joshua scoffs. "So quickly? Horny little baby. Come then. Come on my fingers so I can put my cock in you." His filthy words make you moan out loud as he brings his thumb over clit, rubbing it swiftly and sending you over the edge, face-first into your first, proper orgasm.

It shakes your body as you lie there and feel it wash over you, your pussy spasming repeatedly as he keeps playing with your pussy throughout your high. When you finally come down and your mind starts working again, Joshua pulls his fingers out of you, dripping in your essence and licks his digits clean, never wavering eye contact with you. The erotic sight has your core thrumming once more in the blink of an eye as you mindlessly reach for his pants. "Please. Want you..." Your voice is soft, breathy and Joshua finds it hard to not give into you.

So dropping a kiss on the top of your pussy, he shuffles off the bed and stands up, hands working on removing his belt. Anticipation builds into your veins as you lick your dry lips, eagerly waiting to see him.

And you almost stop breathing when he removes his pants and boxers. His size and girth leave your mouth hanging open and your core clenching around nothing. The phrase hung like a horse was probably invented for him because just thinking about that inside you makes your pussy ache.

You probably won't be able to walk tomorrow.

"Fuck. W-will you even fit?" Your eyes never leave his cock as it bobs in the air, his tip leaking precum. Joshua watches you watch him with utter amusement. "I will, baby. Your tight pussy was made for me." He flashes you a cocky grin as he climbs back on top of you and pecks your mouth.

"Then take me, Joshua. I...I can't wait. N-need you. Take me like this. Wanna feel y-you." You whisper, chasing his lips as you pull his large body against yours and his cock brushes against your pussy.

"Fuck." He curses under his breath as he feels your heat against his sensitive flesh. "Are you sure you are ready for this, sweets? Should I make you come once more?"

His concern brings warmth to your chest but you immediately shake his head and start grinding against his dick. "Wanna come on your cock, daddy."

You've been craving this man for a long time and you will go crazy if you wait any longer.

"Fuck. Such a slut for my cock, aren't you?" He tilts your chin up and pulls your lips in a bruising kiss as you nod. "P-please give it to me."

He groans softly as he taps your clit with his hard shaft, eyes trained on your swollen, dripping hole. "Tell me if it hurts, okay sweets?"

"I will."

His eyes darken as he suddenly lands a slap on your clit. "What's my name?"

"Daddy! Daddy, oh my god!" You squeal, wetness dripping out of you and just as you are recovering from the shock of his spank he thrusts inside you, all the way in one smooth motion. You scream so loud your ears ring, your nails scratching Joshua's back as you cling onto him like he's your lifeline.

He pants harshly on top of you, sweat shining on his forehead as he fights to stay still and let you adjust. Your pussy is stretched to its limits and even though you still feel the sting, you mindlessly grind on his cock, breathy whines leaving your lips.

"Stop doing that or I'm gonna come," Joshua warns but you start moving your hips faster when you're more comfortable with the stretch. "Little vixen," he groans as if in pain, heated eyes watching you. "Come for me." He commands quietly, hands moving to play with your swollen clit as soon as he flicks it with his finger, your release coming crashing down on you and you feel it in every one of your nerves.

Your mouth hangs open in a silent scream as you feel him release inside you, making you clench. You're not surprised when he doesn't stop but continues thrusting inside you, far from being done with you and you feel another orgasm impending. Your pussy hurts in the best ways possible and just thinking about coming once again have your toes curling.

Surprising you, one of his hands move onto your neck, gripping it firmly and applying just enough pressure to make your body curl up and see stars. It triggers your orgasm, multiplying it by hundreds and seeing the godlike man on top of you, reaching his high, his dark, predatory eyes trained on you makes you go off like a rocket. You swear you see God himself as your body completely lets go and you feel like you're floating in a place of pure bliss. The feeling of him releasing inside you makes you shudder, before he slips out and shuffles on the bed, probably cleaning you up but you're too gone to care.

With a blissful smile and a hazy mind, you let sleep take you.

Blinding sunlight wakes you up the next morning as you immediately sit up once your brain has processed everything.

You slept with Joshua Hong last night.

Holy shit.

You feel tingles shoot up your leg just by thinking of him and the things you did last night. Nervous and shy, your eyes move around his large bedroom. The time on the wall clock and the looming quietness in the apartment is enough for you to think he has probably left for work. Which is good. You're too embarrassed to face him.

As you get out of bed, awkwardly you must admit due to the ache between your legs, you spot a note lying on the bedside table. Your curious hands reach for it and you smile once you read it.

Good morning. I'm sorry I had to leave early. Help yourself with breakfast before you go. Also, check your bank account. XO

Right. The money. You scan around to find your phone and once you do, you quickly log into your bank app and sure enough, a nice, huge amount of cash sits there, enough to pop your eyes out of its sockets.

Holy fucking shit.

As relieved and giddy you feel seeing the amount, there's a part— one that you hate, of you that feels ashamed, conflicted. Before you start thinking too much you toss your phone away and head toward the bathroom.

You need to stop thinking so much.

You were positively kidding yourself when you told yourself to stop thinking too much yesterday morning. Now, a day later, in the evening, you sit by yourself in your shoebox apartment, anxiously chewing on your lower lip.

You spent the day just fine, busy doing your work and not thinking about him or anything regarding him. But now that the night has fallen and you sit idle, your mind can't spot conjuring up the worst scenarios.

You haven't heard from Joshua. At all.

Which has you disappointed. And you are disappointed in yourself for feeling disappointed.

The silence on his part makes you worry to your wit's end. Is it over? Has he gotten tired of you? Did you not satisfy him? Did he forget about you like everyone else?

Your fists clench as your heart breaks a little at the thought. No, no. You don't do attachments. He could just call you right now and say he's done and it shouldn't hurt you. Not one bit. This is just business, you keep telling yourself.

A loud, echoing sound breaks the train of your thoughts and you frown. It's the doorbell. And you are expecting no one.

Especially not Joshua Hong, who you find standing just as you pull open the door. A sound, somewhere between a pleasant gasp and a surprised squeak escapes you as you watch the man in front of you with wide eyes.

"Hey." He gives you a soft, if not a little shy smile. Your heart starts fluttering and you wish you could rip it out of your chest.

"Hi," your voice is barely audible as you drink him in like you've been thirsty for eons; his large form dressed in a wrinkled black shirt underneath a grey blazer matching his pants. As you look closely, you see exhaustion written all over his face, dark circles under his eyes.

"May I come in?" His voice makes you snap back into reality as you flush.

"Sure," you choke, moving away to let him step in.

You watch as Joshua makes himself comfortable on your tiny couch, the furniture squeaking under his weight. As always he seems unbothered by it as he looks at you expectantly, motioning for you to sit on the small remaining space next to him.

As you do so you realize there's a box from a confectioner on his lap and you frown. "For you," he seems to notice your gaze as he pushes the box onto your lap. "I was passing by the area when I saw the shop. I remembered you wanting to try their desserts so I thought I'd get some for you."

Your stomach somersaults at his confession.

He remembered. He remembered the day on the way to one of his events, you had passed by this shop and the beautiful pastries on display made you say that you'd love to try some. You were not serious and you definitely did not expect him to actually buy those for you.

Tentatively you open the box and the assortment of desserts inside makes your mouth water. You swallow. "Wow... I— thanks, Joshua."

"You're welcome, _____. Consider it as an apology too. I should've checked up on you after yesterday. Work has just been so hectic these days, I barely have time to eat." The sincerity in his voice makes you want to scream. Why? Why does he care so much? Why can't he just be an asshole? Why does he have to show up at your place, being all sweet and considerate?

"It's okay, Joshua." Is what you whisper instead.

"Are you okay, though?" The need in his voice makes you look at him. Your heart stutters as your eyes come in contact. "You could've called me, you know. I kind of hoped you would."

Oh.

You bite your lip. "I... thought I'd be disturbing."

"No, not at all." He frowns, reaching to cup your hands. "You should not hesitate to call me. Even if I can't call you, you can always call me, _____. I mean it."

"Okay." You quickly retract your hands from his as your heart rings loudly in your ears. Being so close to him, touching him, breathing him in is messing with your head. You clear your throat, trying to get up. "Would you like a pastry? Let me make some coffee-"

"Sit down." He grabs your elbow and pulls you down effortlessly, right into his strong arms. Eyes wide, your hand reaches for his solid chest out of reflex and the look in his eyes is enough to drop your panties.

Your throat is parched and your heart is a galloping horse, ready to burst out of your chest as you fist his shirt in your hand. Your eyes land on his lips and you swallow, the urge to kiss them overwhelming and scary.

You want him. You need him. It's utterly terrifying how much you do.

"Tell me you missed me." His voice is quiet, his eyes trained on your lips intently. The timbre of his voice and his tightening grip on your waist make it very, very hard for you to form words.

"Y-yes. I- I did."

He hums, pleased you assume and then leans down to kiss your lips. Softly at first before he's pushing his tongue inside your mouth, a loud whine escaping from your mouth. You twist and writhe in his arms, the taste and feel of him electrifying. Just when you are at the peak of your high, he pulls back, a soft, teasing look on his face.

God. This infuriating, sexy as fuck man.

"As much as I'd love to continue this, I have an early morning tomorrow. And my driver is waiting." He murmurs, pressing soft kisses on your neck which does not help your current state at all. You almost, almost beg him to stay and fuck you but you hold back the words sitting on the tip of your tongue. Instead, you only hum and sigh into his chest, subconsciously snuggling against his large frame.

The security and comfort you feel in his arms is something you've never felt before and something you long desperately.

In silence, Joshua holds you; for how long you have no idea but enough to make you feel drowsy. Maybe he senses it because he lets you go, dropping a kiss on your forehead as he gently moves to stand up. "By the way, are you free this Thursday night?"

"Hmm? Yeah, I am." It takes a moment for you to register his words as you can only concentrate on the missing warmth of his body.

"Great. My friends are having a hangout. You'll be my plus one." He smiles, buttoning up his blazer and surprising you, he leans down and kisses the corner of your lips. "You don't have to see me out. Good night, sweets. Dream of me."

Before you can recover yourself from his sweet, boyfriend-like gesture, he's out the door like a spring breeze. The pounding of your heart seems to echo around your empty apartment as you sit in silence and touch the spot where his lips were moments ago.

This man is doing dangerous things to you, things you don't want to acknowledge. Because you know exactly what it is.

Love.

Yoon Jeonghan is quite the character.

He's the loudest, most teasing, quite literally the brat of Joshua's friend group but you can't say you dislike him.

It's quite the opposite in reality. He has made an impression on you ever since you arrived with Joshua, as he whisked you away from your date and started spewing all types of info about him.

"Gosh, drunk Joshua is the worst. " The man shakes his head as if recalling a certain memory. "The only thing he does is sing Sunday morning and he just doesn't fucking stop. Your ears will literally bleed off."

You can't help but giggle, thinking fondly about drunk Joshua whom you've never seen but wish to. Jeonghan raises his glass of whiskey to yours and clinks them before taking a sip and leaning over the bar counter. "Oh! You won't believe it. Aside from going around advertising himself as the gentleman, one time in college— "

"I think you've said enough, Jeonghan." Joshua emerges from behind you and you soon feel his presence on your back. The man in question throws a lazy smirk at his friend, "Ah, come on. I've so much yet to say. I need to get back at you. You weren't exactly merciful when you told my girl about all the shit I did in college."

You realize they are talking about Jeonghan's girlfriend, now fiance who once used to be his sugar baby. Joshua had shared with you all the juicy details.

"Was just giving her a heads up," Joshua shrugs nonchalantly, one of his hands coming to rest on your shoulder. "And I really wish she was here tonight so you'd leave my girl alone."

My girl.

His girl.

The words make heat spread through your entire body as your brain stops functioning for a second. You almost don't register Jeonghan's wink as he saunters away when his phone starts ringing, saying, "Oh come on, couldn't just leave a pretty girl alone. Oh, hey darling. How is it...."

Too preoccupied with your thoughts you don't realize Joshua is calling for you until he gently shakes your shoulders. "Oh— um, you were saying?"

He watches you with cautious eyes, "I hope Jeonghan didn't bother you too much."

You shake your head. "Oh, no. Not at all. He's a fun guy. Where's his fiance by the way?"

"Went to visit a sick relative with her brother. Jeonghan is gonna drop by there after this."

"Oh, wow. That's sweet."

"Mhmm." He hums distractedly. You feel his eyes rake down your body hungrily and you can't help the giddiness and confidence it blossoms within you. You definitely don't regret the tight evening dress you wore solely for the purpose of teasing him. You can't keep being the only one in this relationship who losses their mind when the other is anywhere near.

"Did I tell you how fucking gorgeous you look tonight?" He asks, shuffling closer to you, too close as large his body presses hotly against yours. You can't help a teasing smile. "Hmm, you may have earlier in the car. Jeonghan also complimented my looks."

On the way here Joshua had been a tease, his hands stroking your naked thighs, hovering dangerously close to your core but never quite touching. He didn't even try to hide how much it satisfied him to see you squirm and you can't complain too much either.

"Stop being a brat," Joshua's voice is deep, ringing with a clear warning but it's too fun not to work up a man so calm and put together like him. So you smirk and stroke the lapels of his blue blazer, batting your eyelashes at him, "What do you mean? I'm just telling the truth."

A deep sound, similar to a growl resonates from his chest as he grabs your waist and pulls you closer. His warm breath hovers over your ear as he trails teasing kisses from there to your jawline. "Don't be a tease if you want to come tonight." He whispers in your ears as your breaths come out as heavy pants. Pulling back like he didn't just promise you a dirty thing he states, "Now come along. We need to be with the crowd or I'll lose my mind and take you home right now."

The tension radiating off of Joshua's body is so thick you can taste it on your tongue. It's so much fun, teasing him when he can do nothing about it and you feel so powerful, so pleased. Every time he clenches his jaw and grabs your hand even tighter you have to stop yourself from bursting into giggles in front of the whole table.

Dinner had started a while ago as everyone sat around the large rectangular table, eating and chattering loudly. After you've had a couple or so bites of your steak you had decided to initiate playing with another meat as your hands started traveling to Joshua's thighs, innocent at first. He didn't pay much heed to it, busy conversing with his friends. When you were sure he wouldn't remove your hand, you went bolder, cupping his dick through his pants and rubbing him all over.

The look he sent your way should have been recorded in history books and you really wish you could take a picture. His glare, paired with his gritting teeth made you laugh a little, earning a few looks from other people but you brushed it off. Maybe it was because of the wine or Joshua's generally overwhelming presence but you felt giggly and bold, so you decided not to waste this perfect, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see Joshua Hong lose his shit.

"Your ass is going to pay for this." He threatens quietly but you can't quite take it seriously as you are busy observing the growing bulge in his pants. To know that you have this effect on him makes you feel something unlike ever before. So you just bite your lip and give him a wink, fingers stroking his large thigh.

As soon as dinner was over and Joshua had adjusted his pants, he was dragging you out with him, hastily throwing goodbyes to his friends. Jeonghan gave you two a knowing look before winking cheekily at you making you laugh as Joshua pushes you towards his Audi.

As soon as your ass hits the passenger's seat, Joshua is starting the car, driving off at an alarming speed.

"You made me consider drinking and calling my driver to pick us up," he mutters, eyes trained on the road, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. You give him an innocent look, face forming a faux look of concern, "Hmm, you should have. You look so tense, daddy."

His response is a grunt and he grips the wheel tighter; if that's even possible. "Start thinking of a safeword. You're going to need it tonight."

That gets your attention.

"S-safeword?" You breathe. "Yes darling, a safeword." He casts a quick, cocky glance at you and your stomach somersaults.

What has he planned for you? The anticipation and thrill explode in your veins like fireworks as you anxiously tap your foot, wishing you could just transport yourselves back to his place with some machine.

Joshua focuses on getting you two home for the rest of the drive, which he accomplishes, in record time. It's a surprise you weren't pulled over. Before you can even blink he has turned the car off and is dragging you towards the elevator.

Once you are in, he pushes you against the wall and smothers his lips to yours, wasting no time. The ferocity in his movements elicits a moan from you as your hands claw his large back. Feeling those tense muscles underneath his blazer makes you let out a whine of need, though it is muffled with his tongue in your mouth.

The ding of the elevator lets you know you're here and once again, he's making you move in the blink of an eye. Your brain is too fuzzy to keep up with his hasty movements but you have no complaints about being manhandled by Joshua. You kind of wish he'd carry you around like a sack of potatoes.

Damn, what has gotten into you?

Joshua steps into his apartment before you and heads for the kitchen but not before barking an order at you. "Go to the bedroom and strip. I want you only in your panties by the time I'm back."

Your core clenches deliciously at his command. Before your brain is fully processing his command your feet carry you towards his bedroom, where you start peeling your dress off as quickly as possible. Once it's off and you are only in your red lacy panties you scurry towards the bed and sit, your feet dangling from the side, waiting anxiously.

After what felt like ages, which was probably a couple of minutes, the man returns, sauntering into the room with a glass of whiskey in his hand and a small bucket of ice in the other. The dark look in his eyes shoots shivers down your spine and makes your nipples harden.

God, you'd let him do just about anything to you.

"Have you picked out a safeword?" His eyes gaze into you so deeply you're scared you'll end up in flames. You've to swallow to find your voice. "Y-yes. Gentleman."

You have decided to use that word to tease Joshua after Jeonghan told you about how he used to claim to be one back when they were in college.

Joshua snorts, chuckling dryly as he sets down the ice and whiskey on the bedside table. "Always a brat, I see. Well, use it whenever you feel uncomfortable and want me to stop. Are we clear?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes... daddy."

He gives you a salacious smirk and you swear it's enough to make you come. "Good girl. Get on the bed now. On all fours."

On fours? Holy shit.

You blink, taking a moment to process his command before shuffling to the position he wants you to be in.

"Good." He hums and you feel him coming to stand behind you. Then, you feel his movements and the clink of metal makes you realize he's taking off his belt.

"I'm going to spank you with this, do you hear me?" You feel the long piece of leather dangle next to you and your throat dries up.

Holy fucking baby Jesus.

You know he's expecting a response so you choke out one. "Yes, d-daddy."

"What do you do when you feel uncomfortable?"

"U-use my safeword. G-gentleman."

"Hmm, looks like my dumb girl can do more than tease her daddy." He hums, his knuckles stroking your ass cheek, giving you goosebumps. You've to fight to hold yourself up, just the faintest of his touch making your knees and elbows weak.

"We'll go with ten spanks."

Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

"Okay, daddy."

The anticipation is mind-boggling, breath talkingly crazy. You hold your breath and wait for the first strike which comes as a sudden smack, jostling you forward as you let out a moan.

You did not expect to like it so much.

"Okay?" Joshua's voice is quiet, patient and you nod your head vigorously, eager for more, "Yes, yes. M-more, please." You hear him make an amused sound and you would give anything to see his expression right now.

Just as you are getting lost in your thoughts, he delivers the next strike, wringing an equally needy moan from you. Then he delivers three more spanks in quick succession, all on your left cheek as you feel the skin heat up.

"Fuck!" You're out of breath when he lands the sixth strike on your right cheek. "Do you need a moment?" He asks, placing a gentle hand on your lower back. You shake your head, "N-no, please, continue."

The way you are dripping right now is absolutely mortifying and you are more desperate for his dick inside you than your next breath.

Fuck, how can getting your ass whipped turn you on so much?

He smacks your ass three more times repeatedly, as tears blur your vision, then strokes your burning flesh softly, "Such a good girl. One last time." His voice is hushed as you hold your breath, anticipating the end of your torture which comes stronger than ever. The last smack he lands on your ass makes your elbows give up as you whimper and mewl into the sheets.

Immediately you hear Joshua drop the belt before he gently turns you to face him gathering your body in his lap. Your ass feels like it's on fire as it comes in contact with his pants, making you whimper.

"Fuck, such a good little girl. You're so perfect." He praises you quietly, removing the hairs from your face as he rubs your shoulders comfortingly. Your heart gallops in your chest as you watch him look at you with adoration and pride and at that moment you realize you'd do anything to make this man proud.

"Should we take a break? Would like to get something to eat or drink?" He asks, eyes searching yours for discomfort.

Yes, your cock.

You shake your head. "N-no, please. Just fuck me."

That earns you a laugh from him as he shakes his head amusedly, his eyes crinkling in that beautiful manner that messes with your head. "So impatient." He presses a kiss on your temple before gently settling you on the bed and retrieving the belt from the floor. "Scoot up, sweets. Put your head on the pillow."

You swallow, eyeing the belt with wide eyes but do as he asks nonetheless, moving carefully not to scrap your ass too hard against the sheets. Once you are in position he crawls up towards you and then sits on his knees as he ties your hands to the headboard using his belt.

A shiver runs down your spine as you conjure up all the things he might do to you.

"Tell me if it gets uncomfortable, hmm?" He says as he gets up from the bed and picks up the glass of whiskey and takes a sip, heated eyes trained on your vulnerable form. Slowly his gaze travels from your eyes to your lips and then to your breasts before moving even lower. Once he has finished eye fucking you, he moves back into the bed and places himself right over your waist, his thighs around your smaller frame.

With the evilest of all smiles, he leans down to kiss your puckered nipple and then pours the cool whiskey right onto the sensitive bud making you squeal.

"Oh my god!"

You writhe, feeling the liquid drip down your breasts but before it can travel too far Joshua is lapping it all up, his heated tongue moving all over your cold flesh.

You're teetering on the verge of insanity.

"O-oh fuck! Daddy!" You scream. The pleasure is mind-numbing and you aren't even sure if you want him to stop or ask for more. You feel him grin against your skin as he pours more whiskey on your other breast and then continues the same torture on them. You keep howling and writhing helplessly beneath him, your core throbbing with utter need, words of pleas escaping your lips like a mantra.

Once he is satisfied and has left your skin feeling sticky, he takes one of the leftover ice cubes into his mouth and giving you a look of warning he presses it against your nipple.

"Shit!" You scream, legs thrashing around as your back arches from the bed. Your already hardened nipple feels achy and sore now as he teases your areola with the ice between his teeth before pressing it directly on the center of your nipple. As the ice comes in contact with your heated skin it starts to melt and drip down your breasts, making you shiver.

"J-Joshua, please."

"Hmm, not my name now, is it?" He hums, letting the now small, melting piece of ice drip down your chest as he reaches for a new one from the bucket. Taking it between his teeth once again, he gives you a cheeky smirk before pressing it against your other nipple, torturing you until it melts down completely and tears from your eyes trail down your temples.

"Daddy! Fuck! P-please—" as he lets the second cube melt into your skin, he encloses his lips around your over-sensitive nipple and gives it a hard suck, making your brain go haywire.

"Please! No more! P-please, just fuck me..." You whimper, your vision is blurred with tears, frustration getting to you. The urge to be filled with his cock, to reach your sweet release is stronger than ever.

"Sweet girl, begging so nicely," he hums and kisses you softly on the cheek, the action a complete one-eighty to his earlier one. "You need me here baby?" With your eyes shut, you feel the pads of his fingers brush against your clit and you moan loudly, "Yes! Yes, please! Please let me cum."

You hear a noncommittal hum, as if he's still considering it and you have the urge to scream. "Did you learn your lesson, sweets?" He asks and you have to blink as you process his words.

What is he talking about?

Your disorientated look amuses him. He pushes one of his fingers inside you and while his thumb strokes your clit he moves his face towards your dripping core, "Will you tease daddy again?" He asks, his voice low, eyes sparkling.

"No!" You immediately yell. "No! I'm so s-sorry, daddy. P-please, just let me come." Your hips chase his touch needily as you feel your orgasm approaching. Joshua seems to take mercy on you as he starts moving his finger inside you, his thumb stroking your clit harder while his tongue greedily laps up all your arousal. And that's all it takes for you to reach your release and drown in it.

Your scream rings in your ears as your toes curl and your whole body shudders, riding the most intense orgasm you've had yet. Tears burn your eyes and your throat hurts from all the screaming but you don't care, your mind lost in a place of pure lust.

"Good girl. Coming so nicely for me." He whispers, his voice slightly hoarse, his lips wet, eyes trained on your core hungrily.

As you start to come down from your release, Joshua moves off the bed, not before kissing your shoulder sweetly and shoving his fingers into your mouth to lick them clean. Then he stands at the foot of the bed for a moment, watching your helpless form with dark hunger in his eyes.

Ever so slowly, he starts peeling his navy blue blazer from his large shoulders, fully revealing the minty blue turtleneck underneath it. The material hugs his bulky form perfectly, especially around his chest and you mentally take a note to appreciate that part of him sometime later, when you are not tied up and desperate for dick.

"I can see how much you want me," his deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts. "You aren't even trying to hide it, dirty girl. You're dripping all over the bed." He observes, eyes trained between your legs as he peels off the turtleneck and bares his glorious body to your hungry eyes.

If you were dripping before, now you are flooding the bed. The sight of his broad, muscular chest and the sheer dominance radiating from his presence makes you whimper pathetically. And he isn't even fully naked yet.

"P-please, daddy. Please, f-fuck me." You beg.

"I will, sweets. I will." And that's a promise.

He unbuttons his pants and swiftly tugs them down with his boxers, finally revealing the star of the show. His cock is so hard it looks painful and you can see precum oozing out from the tip.

Subconsciously you lick your dry lips. Will he fuck your mouth now? Should you beg for it?

"I know what you are thinking, dirty girl," he muses as he crawls on top of you. "But not today," he whispers, pressing a soft kiss at the top of your pussy and stroking two fingers on your folds to collect your wetness. Keeping his eyes on you, he pops them into his mouth and sucks his fingers, obscene sounds echoing in the room that makes you writhe helplessly.

"P-please..."

Giving you a look of reassurance and promise he shifts so that his cock is positioned right in front of your opening. Tapping your sensitive core with the head of his member, he grunts and then slides inside, in a full thrust.

"Fuck!" You almost come at the overwhelming fullness. "Shit," he groans, eyes shutting down. "So fucking tight, sweets."

Joshua wastes no time, increasing his pace as he starts to rock the bed, his unbelievably thick length going in and out of you nonstop. Your mouth remains open, voice gone from all the screaming, only sobs and whimpers escaping you as you feel his thrusts in every nerve of your body. You know you're not far from coming.

"You are squeezing me so bad, baby. I should fuck you open with a dildo next time." He says and the sheer filthiness in his words makes your eyes roll back into your head as your toes curl at the mental image.

Before you can warn him, you are coming.

"Fuck, fuck!" You hear him hiss through the ringing in your ears as your whole body shakes in the impact of your orgasm. It's a miracle you haven't blacked out yet.

"Shit, holy shit." He groans, his moan drawing out as he feels your walls clenching around him repeatedly. "I'm coming too, fuck." He grunts, his pace faltering and through the mind-blowing haze of your orgasm, you manage to see his face, godlike and lost in the throes of pleasure; something that will be ingrained in your mind for years to come.

As you twitch and shake beneath him, you feel him release inside you, making you moan out loud at the warm feeling. His large body shudders on top of you, your hands holding onto his back tightly as he fills you up. Still not done with you, Joshua's hand moves into your clit and he wastes no time rubbing the swollen bud making you shriek so loud you think your voice will break.

"Joshua! Please! I can't— "

"One last time, sweets. One last time," he whispers and as if your body is on autopilot, a slave to his command, another wave of pleasure rushes through you that makes black spots appear in your vision. You feel hazy and achy all over but oh so sated and drowsy, feeling like you are floating on a bunch of clouds.

The next moments are blurry, you can barely sense some shifting around you, and the feel of a soft warm hand on your body as you are pulled into a deep, dark slumber.

"So...you are saying that he's not only ungodly handsome, unbelievably polite but also a freak in bed?" Kira whisper yells, clutching your shoulders and violently shaking you as she squeals. You cringe and look around the fairly empty grocery shop aisles and pray that no one heard her. "Keep it down, will you?" You grit your teeth, scowling at her but she doesn't listen. She keeps on giggling to herself while giving you a dirty look, making you regret spilling the beans to her.

You don't know why you did that. It has been a day since that magical night with Joshua and though your whipped ass now hurts significantly less, you couldn't forget about the act, the filthiness of it, the pleasure you got from it, the way you crave it again.

Confused and horny, you decided to spit it all out as soon as you two met today.

"Stop looking at me like that," you hiss, trying to ignore the dirty stare she's giving you and busying yourself with searching for the items you need.

"I gotta tell Naomi." She grins as she quickly fetches her phone out of her purse. "No!" You hiss, reaching for her phone, mortified, regretting waking up this morning but she dodges your hands and skips away as she quickly starts typing. There's a little struggle between the two of you but when you get your hands on the device the damage is already done.

Kira: ______ GOT HER ASS SPANKED BY HER DADDY!!!! SHE LOVED IT!!!

Naomi: AAAAAAA! WTFFFFF!!! I WANT DETAILS. HANG OUT AT MY PLACE NOW!

Groaning, you hand her the device back. "I didn't say I loved it."

"Oh but I could see it in your face!" She keeps grinning like a stupid idiot. "You had this longing, fond tone in your voice. You're literally glowing. You look like you're in love!"

Her words bring your entire world to a halt. The hand that was reaching for the milk carton stills midway as you become solid like a statue and let your friend's words wash over you.

No, no it can't be true.

"Holy shit, _____ I didn't— " Kira's voice is breathy. "You— you really are..."

"No!" You snap, head whipping towards her. "No! Of course not!" The words feel impotent and pathetic even to your ears but you stay adamant. "No, I'm not. It's not like that."

Kira stays silent, giving you a sad, almost pitiful look and you half expect her to start talking but she doesn't and for once, you are glad she shuts up.

The thought that you may have fallen in love with Joshua scares you to your bones. You cannot bring yourself to even think of it, much less acknowledge it. You just can't.

If life has taught you one thing, it is that love is a fickle thing and for some people, like yourself, it does more damage than good.

That weekend Joshua sends his car to drop you off at his place to get ready as he announces that he's taking you out for the evening.

You are a little surprised when you first receive his text and you're even more shocked when you go to his penthouse and find out a dress has already been picked for you, with shoes and all other accessories.

"Wow..." You're a little dazed with all the arrangement and wondering what is the occasion. Joshua gives you a sheepish smile when he sees your dazzled look.

"Where are we going?" You ask.

"You'll see. I'll leave you to get ready." He answers, dropping a quick kiss on your cheek and heading out the door. You gaze at the beautiful red garment with slight hesitation. Joshua has been weird the last few days; his texts seemed a little off and now that you've seen him in person, he looks a little jittery and nervous and he didn't answer your question. It makes you wonder if everything is okay.

Maybe it's a problem at the company? But that doesn't really explain his behavior. If it was regarding his business, he would have been serious and collected, not like this.

Despite the uneasy feeling in your gut, you start getting ready. A while later, when you are done with your makeup and putting on your earrings, there's a knock at the door, before Joshua steps into the room.

Oh wow.

He's dressed simple yet expensive; in an off-white suit over a loose white tee, a Dior chain dangling around his neck. His hair is half brushed back and a half left to cover his forehead and there is this ethereal glow on his face that makes your heart skip a few beats.

You've to bitterly remind yourself not to fall for him. Even more, that is.

"Hey." He gives you a soft smile and you almost melt into a puddle on the floor.

"Hi," your voice is breathy.

"You look... absolutely gorgeous." He takes determined steps towards you, eyes going over your form before coming to stop at your face. "So fucking beautiful." He whispers, his thumb reaching out to brush against your cheek and your heart quite literally leaps out of your chest. The subtle scent of his cologne doesn't help either. He smells fresh and inviting and all the good things in the world. You are scared for a second that you might pass out.

"Thanks." You whisper, shyly averting your eyes from him and trying to get your racing heart under control.

With one hand Joshua tilts your face up and before you can blink, he kisses you, gently pressing his lips against yours. Your heart beats so loudly you're scared he can hear it and the urge to just give up all your barriers and break down in front of him and tell him everything in your heart is too much for you to bear.

So before you do that, you take a small step back that puts distance between your lips. Joshua looks at you, confused as his brows knit together.

"I...I'm sorry if I made— " He starts.

"No! I just...my lipstick is gonna get messy," you're quick to interject him, voice jittery. He gazes at you for a brief second before laughing softly, "Oh yeah, right. Sorry. Well then, come out when you're finished. The car's waiting."

He gives you his infamous sweet smile before turning on his heel and walking out of the room. You don't realize you were holding a breath until he's gone and you feel air rush back into your lungs as you collapse onto the stool in front of the mirror.

After you've finished dressing up, Joshua guided you to the car, his arm casually slinging to yours. A quiet, somewhat tense car ride later, you find yourself in front of what can be the most beautiful place you've ever seen. It's a grandiloquent fine dining restaurant and just by looking at the beautiful, antique European architecture of the building, the gilded marbled pillars and crystal chandeliers, your breath is stolen away.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Joshua asks, a smirk on his face.

You can only nod, as you gape at the marvelous place in wonder and let Joshua lead you through. You look completely out of place; while everyone else looks calm and habituated, talking and eating, you keep turning your head in various directions, eyes wide open and small gasps leaving you every now and then.

But you're yet to be surprised as a finely dressed man leads you both to a pair of double doors which open to reveal the huge balcony, in the middle of which sits a candle-lit table with two chairs.

Suddenly, all your breath wheezes out of your lungs and you turn into stone. This feels too intimate. Way too intimate for a sugar daddy and his sugar baby. Your throat dries up.

"Let's sit," Joshua ushers you towards the table as he helps you sit down. You've turned stoic, your heart pounding against your ribcage as you start getting an idea of where this is going.

While a part of you really, really likes it, the larger part, the part of you that always puts up walls to protect yourself goes into fight mode.

You can't trust yourself enough for this. You can't trust the universe enough for this. This all feels like a cruel game, a game in which you are bound to lose.

"Do you like it?" Joshua asks softly.

"Yeah. It's beautiful." Your tone is rather poignant. "I've to say this was not what I was expecting."

Joshua frowns. "What were you expecting?"

"I don't know. Maybe just another business event or something." You shrug, your hand motioning around vaguely. Joshua is silent for a bit, watching you with careful eyes.

"Why does it feel like you don't like this?"

His voice is just a breath above a whisper and you almost think you weren't meant to hear it. The hurt is clear in his voice and it absolutely wrecks you, making you want to scream out loud how much you love it all. How much you love this.

How much you love him.

You feel nauseous. The fears and traumas buried deep within you surface all at once and you have this urge to run away from everything forever.

"I—" whatever you wanted to say dies in your throat as you meet Joshua's expectant, slightly pained eyes. Your lips press into a thin line as you remain silent. A waiter arrives with a bottle of wine, breaking the moment between the two of you. He asks if you are ready to order and you shake your head, pretending to busy yourself with the menu and Joshua dismisses him.

Your eyes scan over the words but your brain processes none of it, too busy overthinking this situation. You are tired, burdened and oh how much you want to cave in, finally give up, retract your weapons and let him do whatever he wants to with you but you're scared to death.

A courageous person would do that. They would fight for the person they love, struggle to acquire anything good life threw their way. But you are not that person.

All your life you've been hiding, running and burying things that scared you. That's the only way you know how to survive. So you make your mind up.

"Joshua," you utter his name, closing the menu and sitting up straighter to meet his eyes. "I can't do this."

The man is in the middle of pouring you wine when he stills, his eyes fleeting over to you, confused at first, then worried. He sets down the wine bottle and murmurs, "What do you mean?"

"I can't do this. I- can't...This is too much," you breathe, hating how your emotions choke you up. Joshua looks like a puppy that has been kicked. His eyes search for yours anxiously. "You don't like this place?" The softness in his voice tugs at your heartstrings and you feel yourself getting more annoyed.

"No!" You snap. "It's not about the place. It's about this. What we're doing. I... can't. I can't do this, please..." You're fighting to keep your tears at bay. The pain and helplessness in Joshua's eyes are unmistakable. "If you want we can just go home..." He's still clinging onto that stupid hope, ignoring the real meaning behind your words even though he knows it well.

God, why did it have to be this man who fell for you? And why do keep feeling the same for him?

You can't see him in any more distress or you're going to end up running into his arms, soothing away all his pain. So you inhale deeply and stand up. "Joshua. I can't give you more. I'm sorry but this is too much for me. I know what you are expecting. And I can't give you that. I'm sorry. This relationship has no place for love."

He stands up with you too and watches you with wide, panicked eyes. "Let's talk about it, _____. You don't have to give me anything you don't want to." His voice is feather-light and it once again almost breaks your resolve.

"No," you shake your head. "I can't stay with you. This...you— you overwhelm me. This...what we're doing right now, I can't do this. This is too much for me." You swallow and blink away the tears that are on the verge of falling.

Joshua watches you in silence for a while and as you reach for your purse, you hear him whisper. "I'm sorry, ______. Please."

And the dam breaks.

"No!" You are yelling now. "Don't apologize! Please! This is not your fault! It's mine. I can't do this Joshua. I can't give you what you want. I am not the person you need me to be. I— I can't...I'm sorry, Joshua."

"But you already are. You are what I need."

All the air leaves your lungs. The feelings you've been experiencing so far increase tenfold. He speaks the words that you never, ever thought someone would say to you in this lifetime and now you're at your wit's end. His admission makes this all so much real.

This has to end.

"No, I'm not! Please leave me alone!" You yell, hiccuping midway as you scramble to sling your bag over your shoulder and without even sparing a glance at him, you run out of the terrace.

Even though Joshua calls for you from behind you tune his voice out and keep taking determined steps until you're out and far away from the restaurant.

It's better this way when you can still walk away from him. When you are not madly, deeply in love with him. Who are you kidding? That man made his way into your heart the very first time you saw him.

It's ripping you apart, leaving him, but it's not as painful as when he eventually abandons you. They all leave. There is no happy ending. Not for you. Not in this life.

You're doing this for yourself. You're doing this for yourself. You keep chanting in your head as you walk out of the restaurant, feet briskly moving against the pavement as you step further away from that lavish place.

Fetching your phone out as means of distraction, you find messages from Naomi and Kira, wishing you well on your date and whatnot. You scoff, shaking your head humourlessly as you try not to break into tears. Instead, you type out a message in the group chat.

Can I come over? Let's meet at Kira's place.

You shut your phone off as soon as they start sending concerned messages. You can't talk right now. You need to gather your shit together and just breathe for a few moments.

You've probably done the stupidest thing on this planet and broke an innocent man's heart so you need to have a few moments to yourself. You walk aimlessly around the city, the cold air making you shiver a little but you welcome it as it is a good distraction.

When you arrive at a random park, you find yourself a bench and sit down to watch the dark sky and the soft twinkle of the stars. And it seems like there's no escape for you as you are suddenly overwhelmed with a certain memory regarding Joshua.

It was at beginning of your relationship when you had just started to stay over at his place during the weekends. One night after dinner, he requested you to sit with him on his balcony as he offered you a glass of wine.

High above the ground, closer to the sky, you sat with him in utter silence except for a soft melody playing in the background from a speaker. None of you said a word but the moment was nowhere near awkward but purely magical. You had spent hours simply stargazing which was odd to do in the bustling city. For some reason, on that magical night, the sky was filled with more stars than you had ever seen in your life.

Joshua kept refilling your glasses and exchanged soft, coquettish smiles, sometimes sweet touches with you that sent your heart in a frenzy. It was a night of silence, peace and magic and now that the moment is a far memory, you realize something.

That was probably the time you really fell in love with Joshua.

The realization brings tears to your eyes as you watch the sky now, alone and broken-hearted and like a cruel game of fate, the sky is full of stars today, too.

Whatever was left of your heart breaks even more as you try to wipe the tears and keep that at bay.

This moment right now is painful and absolutely heart wrenching but this is also a moment of clarity for you, you realize. You're a coward for running from the only good thing in your life but somehow, now you're strong enough to cut off a part of you, the cancerous part that you've been dragging for far too long.

So you quickly call the person from your caller list and wait for them to pick up.

"Finally changed your mind?" Is the first thing your sister says.

You clench your fists and bite your tongue to stop yourself from lashing out. "I'm calling to let you know that I won't receive your call ever again. I don't want anything to do with you. Or mom. I'm done."

"What?" She shrieks. "Listen, who do you think you are— "

"Aren't you tired too?" You whisper, finally breaking. "How long will this go on? It's been like this since dad died. We're a family. We're supposed to protect each other, love each other. But we're killing each other here and I'm tired. Let's just stop, Melissa."

There's silence on the other end of the line.

You continue. "I let mom go when she left us and refused to be helped. She's a lost cause and we know it. You can't keep sending her money. Well, if you want to, then do but I won't. I'm tired, Melissa."

"So you are dumping her on me?" She accuses.

"No, I'm not." You sigh, rubbing your forehead. "I'm telling you what I'm going to do. I'm telling you that you can do whatever you want to. Send her money, keep in touch with her or don't, I don't care. I won't accept your calls from now on and I hope you won't call too, Melissa."

"Fuck you, _____."

A lone teardrop pours down your cheek. "You were not the best sister but I understand you a little now. You were young and you had your own life. Still, you didn't kick me out when mom left. Thank you for that. And I'm sorry. If we meet again, let it be under better circumstances."

"Listen here, you fuck—"

"Goodbye, Melissa."

As you stare at the dark screen of your mobile, you feel like a huge burden has been lifted from your shoulders. You feel lighter and it feels easier to breathe. So you do.

You just breathe.

You inhale a lungful of air, despite it being chilly and try to put everything past you. Getting up from the bench you walk back towards the main road where you hail a cab to take you to Kira's place.

It has never been this quiet with the three of you. Whenever you all gathered it would be pure chaos but the scenery today is something you never expected to face.

Kira and Naomi sit on both of your sides, their face solemn as they stare at the wine glasses in their hands, much like what you are doing.

You came here and told them everything, crying your eyes out as you relieved the entire evening once again. They listened and even they got teary eyed which prolonged another crying session.

Now you sit on the sofa, drinking wine to knock yourself out but somehow that seems like a burden too. Now that you have no more tears left to cry there's a chilling hollow settling into your bones and you feel like a shell, an empty person, completely vacant inside.

"Why do I feel like I'm the one who broke up a 10 year old relationship or something?" Kira whispers, staring ahead blankly.

There's a pregnant pause in the air.

Her words sit heavy on your heart.

Naomi, who has been totally silent until now, shares her two cents. "______...what if...what if you read way too much into this? What if he just took you out on a simple dinner? What if he doesn't, you know...want you like that?"

A dry chuckle escapes your lips. "Naomi," you sigh. "You should have seen the look in his eyes. He— he looked at me with so much hope, like I'm his entire world or something." You shake your head, trying to rid the image of his sparkling eyes from your brain. They will haunt you even on your deathbed.

You set the glass down with a rather loud clank. "I mean— I knew something was up...he was being so weird the past few days. But I— I just couldn't imagine that he'd actually do something like this..." You rub your temples.

"What the fuck is wrong with that man?" Now you're yelling like a madwoman. "That guy could have anyone he wants but he chooses me! A good-for-nothing, weird and bitchy and broke college student! That's suspicious, right? He really can't really love me, can he?"

Your friends give you judgemental, you've completely lost your mind looks. "First of all," Kira starts in her no-nonsense tone, which is rare. "You are not good for nothing, weird or bitchy. Broke? Yes. But who the fuck cares? We're all broke. If anything, _____, you're a person full of dreams and ambitions and love. We have received so much love from you, even though you didn't get that from your family. I know you don't let many get close to you but the few of us who have been blessed with your presence know and feel and see what a truly great person you are."

Your friend's words close up your throat and suddenly, you feel like you've swallowed a sock. You hate this. You hate when they praise you like this and hate how much you want to believe them, how much you crave these words.

"Seriously," Naomi says. "You've never denied any of our requests. You've been there for us, for me, always. Even when I couldn't finish my history report, you came to my place in the middle of the night just to be my moral support. You give and give and give, ______ even though you have never received enough, you give, unknowingly."

"Guys..." Fresh tears start accumulating in your eyes. "You're my friends, I'm supposed to do all that." You mumble.

"No, you're not. You could've been a bitch of a friend and used us to get what you needed. And you literally forgave your sister for all her bullshit. " Kira rolls her eyes. "Give yourself a little credit, ______. You had a tough life but you've still managed to become this amazing person and you've been giving selflessly for us."

"No wonder Joshua would fall for you." Naomi playfully pokes your temple. "You're incredibly dense but you're a lovely person and an even lovelier company. You definitely made Joshua feel something that he didn't feel before to make him fall for you."

A lone tear trails down your cheek as you fiddle with your fingers.

Kira downs her glass in one go and shuffles next to you. "Now that we are being honest and spilling whatever the fuck is in our hearts, lemme say something else. You're a pussy. You're a pussy for leaving that man, a simp of a man like that."

You narrow your eyes at your friend's words and from beside you, Naomi snorts. "Yeah, I agree with that."

You turn to glare at her. So they are ganging up on you now?

"Seriously. Joshua is like a guy straight out of a romance novel or some shit. And I'm not talking about his billionaire extravaganza or whatever. I'm talking about his personality. Yes, I've never met him but he sounds so pure and gentle— "

"Except when he's in bed, of course," Kira interrupts with a giggle which tells you she's pretty drunk.

Before Naomi can continue her monologue, you stand up and hold your hands up in surrender. "Okay! Okay! I know what a great guy he is, alright? You don't have to kiss his ass like this. Besides, whose team are you on?"

"Team Joshua, sorry," Kira replies in an instant, leaning back into the sofa and giving you a cocky smile.

"Me too." Naomi gives you a sheepish smile.

"You two are traitors, you know?" You hiss at them.

"We're the speakers of the harsh truths. And I will say one more thing." Kira holds her hand up as if asking permission. "You should try."

"Try what?"

"To win him back."

You stare at her, incredulous, utterly baffled and if she had told you to run over an old lady or something, you'd be less surprised.

"You're drunk, Kira." You sigh.

"She's completely right." Naomi is quick to defend. "Who knows, _____? Maybe you still have a chance. Maybe this decision will change your life forever. Yes, there's nothing set in stone but I think you've tortured yourself enough. And this one time, just this once, you should chase after something. I mean, it is fucking clear you two love each other. Why are you putting the two of you through so much pain?"

You swallow. It seems like there's no ground beneath you, you're free falling and falling into a deep dark abyss where her words echo around and feel like a cold bucket of water on your skin.

"I don't know. I'm scared." Your cracks as you realize how much you want to see Joshua, just once more. You want to tell him how sorry you are and how much you love him, how he has become your hope and your entire world in such a short time.

You really are a pussy.

"Oh, babe." Kira quickly comes to wrap her arms around you, followed by Naomi. "It's okay. It's perfectly normal. But it shouldn't stop you."

"Let me call you a cab," Naomi is already moving away and rushing for the door.

"Wait- are you crazy? I didn't even— " you're hushed as Kira puts a finger on your lips. "Shut up. Get in the car and go to him. Talk to him. If he doesn't give you another chance, my name isn't Kira and I vow to pay for your rent for the rest of our lives."

You can't help but snort. "Be prepared."

She rolls her eyes. "But. If he does take you back, which he will, you shall attend my wedding wearing a tiger costume."

Before you can protest, Naomi rushes back in. "Hey! The cab's here."

"Go get him, tiger!"

As you are heading for the car, you hear Hoshi, Kira's boyfriend, emerge from his room in which he had been cooped up until now, giving the three of you privacy. "Hey, babe! Who are you calling tiger other than me?"

"Oh shut up and take me to bed, tiger."

You shake your head, a smile on your lips as you feel a little hope bloom in your chest.

Maybe you still have a chance.

This is stupid. So unbelievable stupid and embarrassing. No one in their right mind would do this.

As you stand in front of Joshua's front door tipsy, tired and slightly shivering from the cold, you realize how badly this could go.

But since you've come this far, you might as well just go with it because the cab fare was definitely not cheap.

Your finger which has been hovering over the calling bell button with a gap of millimeters finally presses it and you go completely rigid, waiting for Joshua to either open the door or at least receive your call on the intercom.

Looks like he has decided you don't deserve to put your foot in his place no more because there's a beep alerting you that he has received the call and is currently watching you through the screen.

You realize you've never been this nervous in your life as you stare at the intercom camera, wide eyed with an embarrassed, awkward smile plastered on your face.

Shit. Get yourself together before he decides to end the call.

"H-hi," your voice is so pathetic to your own ears that you want to punch the wall and howl. "It's me...as you can see..."

Your subconscious facepalms and starts to bury herself into an imaginary ground. You wish you could do the same.

"I'm sorry, I— " You exhale a deep breath. You don't even know what you are trying to say. Rubbing your hands on your arms to provide some warmth, you take several deep breaths.

You can do this. You've got this one chance. You can't fuck this up.

This time, determined, you focus your eyes back on the camera. "As you can see, I'm really bad at this and talking to a camera feels even weird. So I'm just gonna sit down here and talk. Please just listen to me, that's all I ask of you."

You make yourself comfortable on the ground as you lean against the wall just by the door to his penthouse. As soon as your ass hits the floor, you shiver due to its coldness.

You'll probably die of pneumonia but it'll be so worth it.

Inhaling a lungful of air, you start. "I'm s-sorry. I'm sorry about a lot of things, Joshua, especially about tonight. I did the most horrible, despicable, atrocious thing ever and I probably broke your heart but you have to know I didn't mean it and I didn't want to do it."

You let out a breath, blinking repeatedly to stop the tears from falling.

"I'm so, so stupid, Joshua. And I'm such a coward. You're the best thing that has happened to me in this hell of a life and I've always pushed you away. But I never wanted to do it. I never wanted to let you go. I wanted to be close to you. I longed for you more and more every day and that sacred me. I'm s-so s-scared, Joshua." Somewhere along the line, your voice cracks and a quiet sob ripples out of your throat. Clearing your voice, you start again.

"You know, I've always been left behind. The people that were supposed to love me, didn't and that made me realize that if they didn't love me, how could someone else do that? I know this sounds like bullshit but I've always been scared of this. I hated the thought of being abandoned or seen as a burden or a charity. And I kept making things worse in my head even though the reality was far from it."

"The time I spent with you was magical, Joshua. Every moment of it. Even though I didn't deserve any of it, you gave me so much and made me feel so appreciated. I can't thank you enough for that. And I can't apologize enough for what I've done to you today. But still, I'm here and I'll say I'm sorry. I'll say it a million times not to make you forgive me but to show you that I mean it." You breathe in deeply.

There has been utter silence and you would think he left but there has been no sound from the device to let you know he hung up.

Once again, gathering all your courage, you speak. "I know you'll probably never want to see my face again but just know that..." You stop as you have to speak the three words that have been on the tip of your tongue for ages now. The words that you've always wanted to tell him yet you didn't. Well, now's your chance.

"I love you, Joshua. I love you so fucking much I only wish I could explain. I love you more than anything in the entire world. And I'm sorry for not see saying this earlier, when the moment was right, when you were in front of me. But I need you to know, Joshua. I love you."

It takes you a while to realize that you're crying but you're surprised to understand that the tears are not from any pain but from the huge relief you feel, how your heart feels lighter and how free and liberated you feel.

So you let the tears fall, crying your heart out because you are leaving your old self here, right at this moment. No matter what happens from now on, however Joshua treats you, you will remember this feeling and you will hold it dearest in your heart.

As you are in the middle of your crying session, you hear something akin to a door opening, somewhere far off so you don't open your eyes to check. But then you hear footsteps and some movement beside and as you open your eyes and look up, you see him.

Joshua's blank stare is the first thing that greets you as he keeps eyeing you with a straight face, no emotion whatsoever. Quickly you wipe away your tears in an attempt to look less pathetic— not that it helps and prepare yourself to be kicked to the curb.

Instead, he surprises you by holding out his hand. With wide eyes and like a deer stuck in headlights, you gape at him and then his hand, before you realize he's offering it to help you stand up. With a shaky hand, you reach for it and Joshua pulls you up from the cold ground and right into his warm chest.

The moment is something straight out of a movie as the force of his tug sends you crashing into his strong chest. For a moment, you hesitate but when you see he makes no attempt to push you away, you bury your face into his soft sweater. His arms wrap around your back, rubbing it up and down as he comments on how cold you are.

However, you can't bring yourself to care for anything else. This moment right here is your heaven and even though the thought that this may be the last time you get to feel his body next to you splits your heart open, you don't let it distract you. Instead, you inhale deeply into his chest and let his clean scent wash over you, ingraining it into the deepest part of your brain as you let your body go lax for a moment.

For the first time since being with him, you drop all your guards and simply let your bodies mold into one, uncaring of everything else and just feeling him, baring yourself to him. The only thing you hate is that it took you this long.

As you are having your moment, Joshua suddenly grabs below your ass and then as if you are a child, carries you inside his house, cradling your body next to his despite your protests.

"You need to warm up." He states, voice devoid of emotion as he drops you onto the living room sofa and heads towards the bedroom. From there, he returns with a fluffy white blanket and drapes it around your shoulders.

You can only look at him in wonder as he does so. When you expect him to sit down next to you, or maybe say something, he disappears into the kitchen, leaving your dumbfounded state alone.

What is he doing? Why is he ignoring everything you had spilled? Did he not hear it? Does he not care anymore? Or is this a nice way of kicking you out of his life forever?

Anxiously you chew on your lip, wrapping the blanket around you tighter. Joshua returns right then, holding a steaming mug in one hand which seems to be tea. His gesture tugs at your heartstrings and you have this urge to start crying once again.

"Drink." It's a command as he holds the mug in front of you. You oblige, reaching for the mug and taking a small, careful sip before cupping it with your arms to feel the warmth. Now that you are inside you realize just how cold you had been.

Joshua sits next to you and almost subconsciously, you scoot away a little, afraid to come in contact with him for some reason. If he notices, he says nothing but stares at you with an unreadable expression, one that you've never seen on him and it makes you worry.

What is he thinking?

Swallowing, you take another sip of the tea and then another hoping to hear something from him. But he stays silent and you realize your worst fear has come true. He's done with you. He is going to kick you out as soon as you are done drinking this tea.

So you try to save yourself from further embarrassment. Setting the mug on the coffee table, you shrug the blanket off your shoulders and start getting up. "Well then...I'll get go— "

You're immediately pulled back into the sofa by a strong arm. Joshua's eyes blaze with an emotion you've never seen before; fiery, accusatory, annoyed as he hisses. "What is wrong with you!"

His reaction confuses you. What does he mean?

"What?" You blink, perplexed. "I— I just thought that I should go home— "

"Will you stop overthinking for once? Did I ask you to leave?" This time you hear the hurt in his tone more than the anger and you immediately sew your lips shut. Joshua rakes a frustrated hand through his hair and exhales loudly. "God, _____...." He shakes his head, probably at a loss for words.

"I was gonna leave because you were not saying anything and I thought you didn't want me to stick around..." You mumble.

"God. I was letting you warm up and feel comfortable before I addressed the elephant in the room." He glares at you.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, a part of you feels giddy. You've never seen Joshua angry before so this is a sight. And something tells you, you shouldn't poke him right now and just be quiet. You whisper. "Sorry."

Joshua sighs, his shoulders visibly slugging and he looks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. You have this urge to reach out to him and smooth out the lines of worry on his face.

"You're so... stubborn, ______." He murmurs, more to himself than you. "God...the least you could have done was listen to me instead of ditching me like that."

You wince at the memory. That, undoubtedly, was the stupidest decision you ever made. You're about to, once again, apologize but Joshua starts talking.

"_______." His eyes lock with yours. "You're such an amazing person and it is my fault for not making you realize it and letting you think so little of yourself."

You're opening your mouth to interrupt but he holds up his finger and begrudgingly, you stop. How can he say that?

"But now that you're here, I'll say something I've always wanted to say. You're the best thing that could have happened to me and I wish I could show you how much I mean it. I sometimes honestly have a hard time grasping the fact that you are real and you are in my life, ______. I've found myself attracted to you from the first day we met at the restaurant. You're different, you're intriguing. You've shielded your heart from the world yet you have this lively innocence surrounding you and it drew me in. Whenever I looked at you— even thought of you, I felt at peace and I felt better. I didn't realize I was lonely until you came along, ______. You make the dullest things interesting. You make my world so fucking colorful. You bring life to me and the thought of you leaving kills me."

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

You're crying. It's impossible to not cry after hearing those words, paired with the look in his eyes, the raw emotions shining in them. You have to stifle your sobs to let him speak and not end up wailing once again.

Gosh, you never knew you have so many tears.

One of Joshua's hands reaches out to wipe a trail of tear from your cheek. "I want you and everything that comes with you. Every tear, every pain, every scar, every little thing you have, I want it. I need it. I need you just as you are, ______. And I would do anything to protect you. I really hope you will start believing that."

You can't help it anymore. You're flinging yourself into his arms, ugly crying, fat tears rolling down your face as you try to literally bury yourself in his chest. "Oh, Joshua."

"Shh. It's okay. Gosh, you're such a crybaby." The tenderness in his voice laced with emotions, his soft stroking on your hair— it all makes you turn into mush for this man and you swear to yourself as long as you have life in your body, you will never ever hurt this man again nor let anybody hurt him.

"I love you too, _____. You were silly to think I'd never want to see you again." He whispers into your hair. You're moving to look up at him but he holds you tightly, keeping you in his arms as he continues speaking. "My heart broke when you left, I'm not going to lie. But I was mad at myself. I couldn't make you comfortable enough to— "

"Joshua, no." Your tone is adamant as you push against his chest and scowl at him. "Please, please don't say that. What I did today evening was a horrible decision on my part. You had nothing to do with it. As always, I let my intrusive thoughts win but it won't be happening from now on." Your hands reach forward to cup his cheek. "I love you. I've always loved you and I always will."

"I love you too." He gives you the softest of smiles and fireworks go off in your heart. You want to scream, cry and yell at the top of your lungs but you only manage to grin from ear to ear. Joshua mirrors it before leaning towards you, eyes going over to your lips.

Your breath stutters.

Softly, oh so slowly, he attaches his lips to yours while cupping both of your cheeks. Your hands move to clutch his biceps as you completely melt against his mouth, the familiar feel and taste of him soothing away all the pain from the last couple of hours.

Wanting more, you shift and move on top of his thighs, kissing him deeply and urgently. He reciprocates and soon it's a battle of teeth and tongue. When you both pull apart for air, Joshua has this flushed glow on his face, his eyes shining with so much love and it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. If there was a jetpack attached to your heart it would take off to space right now.

"I'm so lucky to have you." You say thoughtlessly. He laughs softly at that but you're completely serious. "I can't believe you forgave me after what I did. I was such an asshole."

"No, you weren't." He frowns before tapping your temple. "You just said no more intrusive thoughts. So stop that."

Right.

You manage a sheepish smile as he once again engulfs you into his huge chest. You snuggle into him, getting comfortable and letting your mind simply drift. He holds you in silence, occasionally kissing your hair while he rubs your back softly. You feel yourself drifting off, the absolute comfort and safety of his arms making you sleepy. Not to mention you've had the most eventful evening of your life.

Just then, he speaks. "You're so cute. Falling asleep on me, sweets. But there's something you're forgetting."

"Hmm?"

"I think you deserve a punishment for what you did this evening."

The seductive growl in his voice suddenly removes all the sleep from your system and you're wide awake and anticipating. Your surprised, slightly excited gaze makes him smirk.

"I thought we're now past that daddy and baby relationship." You faux pout but he sees through your act. His eyes narrow. "So you don't want a punishment?"

"Hmm." You pretend to think. "Does it involve spanking?"

The cocky grin on his face is panty melting.

"And much more." It's a promise that lightens up your whole body.

"Lead the way, daddy." You whisper in his ear, making sure he feels your breath. Joshua groans, pushing you onto your back on the sofa. "Such a brat till the end." He smashes his lips against yours, stroking your tongue with his as he holds your hands above your head together. "Let's do something about that, hmm? What's your safeword, sweets?"

"Gentleman."

1 year later

It's the same place. The historic one where you ditched Joshua almost a year ago and ran like Cinderella.

It's surreal how quickly a year has passed. You've got your degree and started your job as a junior editor at a rising publishing company, all with Joshua by your side. Joshua has also become good friends with Kira and Naomi, showing up with you on hangouts every now and then. They're absolute fans of him, giving him undivided attention and spilling every embarrassing secret about you.

Kira also got engaged to Hoshi last month and as a congratulatory gift, Joshua got them tickets to the Maldives. You wanted to reprimand him for such an expensive gift but Kira's childish giddiness made you let him off easy.

Overall, life has been good. You've worked on yourself and now you're more accepting of everything that has been given to you. You have learned to focus more on the positive and let go of the negatives.

After that eventful night, your sister did call you but you didn't pick up and then she sent you messages giving all types of threats. She also dropped by your apartment when you weren't there so that was fortunate.

Not long after, you changed your number and after many requests from Joshua, you moved in with him. Now you've grown so accustomed to living with him that you don't know how you survived before.

Being back here, in this beautiful restaurant is quite exciting for you as you plan on doing the things you missed out on last time, like drinking the wine and eating the fancy food. The last time you were here definitely didn't go well but you're adamant about enjoying this night and replacing the bad memories with the good.

Joshua, however, has been stressed since he got in the car. You were the one to mention revisiting this restaurant and though he didn't deny your request, he definitely looks like he has PTSD, you now understand.

"Hey. I'm not walking out on you again." You reach for his hand over the table. He looks dashing, his dark hair pushed back, dressed in a pristine white shirt and dark grey suit and you can't wait to get home and take it all off.

His smile is a little nervous. "Sure." He mocks and you laugh. "If it makes you feel any better, you can walk out on me tonight. Do give me a moment to take off my heels though because I'll be chasing you."

That earns you a gentle laugh from him and you immediately feel better. If you ever got your hands on a time machine, you'd visit yourself that night and smack that bitch until she came to her senses. That'd be quite a scene.

Soon the waiter arrives and takes your orders before leaving you two to yourself once again. You take pictures of the beautiful place and the equally gorgeous night sky, before asking Joshua to take some photos of you.

"Joshua?" You call for him, thrice. The man seems to be lost somewhere else as he burns holes into the table. "Huh?" He blinks as you snap your fingers.

You sigh. "Shua, what's wrong? Is this about last time? I swear— "

"No! No, damn it." He says, a little too forcefully, making you concerned. What's wrong with him? Should you be getting worried? Is he... breaking up with you?

"Joshua?" Your voice suddenly becomes shaky. "Did I do something wrong? I— "

"Fuck. I can't wait anymore. Let's get this over with." He suddenly hisses and stands up, coming to stand by your chair. With alarmed eyes, you watch him, his face extremely serious, eyes focused but also a little nervous.

What on earth is the matter?

The next second, he drops onto one knee and your heart flies out of your chest, quite literally. You gasp and cover your mouth with both hands as he produces a little black box from his pocket and holds it open, revealing a beautiful, glittering diamond ring.

You're too stunned to speak.

"______." He breathes, eyes focused on you, his voice just a little shaky. "I love you. I fell in love with you the first day I saw you and I fall in love with you more and more every day. You're the sun of my world, my light in the dark and there is no life for me without you. So please, will you do the honor of marrying me and loving me forever?"

By now, hot tears are rolling down your face, probably ruinning your makeup but you just can't stop. You hiccup, trying to give him an answer but you can't. So you just nod your head aggressively and hold out your hand.

He gives you a fond smile and you can see the tears in his eyes shine as he puts the ring on your finger.

A perfect fit. Just like him.

"You didn't exactly say yes, you know." He teases as he stands up. You roll your eyes, wiping away the tears and pulling him closer by the lapels and kissing him deeply.

"Yes, Joshua. It's always a yes."

A/N 2: More than any other fic, your reviews and thoughts will be especially appreciated for this one as I've had a hard time finishing it due to writer's block and in general lack of motivation. But after doing so, I'm really happy and satisfied with the outcome. These characters are really dear to my heart so it would mean the world to me if you all left a little message. As always, thank you.

Taglist: @coupsiekkuma @haomullet @haven-cove @woozarts @fairiewonu @qy61 @lilactangerine @wheeinz @melocular @soonchanshua @chvngbin @kp0p10v3r2 @mommymilkers6000 @silent-potato23-blog @luv4cheol @namjoonslefttiddie @joshualvr @yangjeongincertifiedsimp @vernongyu @jeongiegram @hnsw04 @tfmingyu @thisuseriscravingdeath (forgive me if I've forgotten to tag someone 🙏)

#seventeen smut #joshua smut #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #joshua fluff #seventeen angst #svt angst

2K notes · View notes

t-aeddie · 6 months

Text

emotional ramblings about the dark urge that is keeping me awake...

becase, listen, i need dark urge aka durge fanfics that also address durge's trauma if we are going the redeemed route (evil durge is lost...)

thinking about how redeemed durge literally went from losing all their memories to having a tadpole in their head to having the looming fear of turning into a mind flayer while having to fight their inner demons along with feeling possibly guilty and ashamed of having these urges to remembering how they were betrayed and nearly killed by their sibling/fellow spawn to having to fight to the death said sibling to be dad's chosen child to breaking the cycle to being abadoned and murdered by their father (and it was a very gruesome and painful way to die too) to being resurrected and told "hey, there's still work to do"

and their upbringing definitely had to be also traumatic. being a bhaalspawn means that you are living the life "either you kill or you are killed" plus "imma just murder people to make daddy happy".

idk how durge is processing all that.

and thinking about the fact that durge (if you play as durge and not tav) is the leader of a group of people that also deal with their share of trauma...

and, now, im thinking about how in durge and [name of companion] romantic relationships and fanfics, durge seem fine and that really supportive partner. it's okay. but, imma need fanfics who use durge instead of tav to start thinking about the fact that durge needs hella healing to.

durge was born and raised to be murderer for their father. the level of abuse they went through. and then, we go back to what i originally wrote. the betrayal. the memory loss. the abandonment. maybe the lost of purpose because durge was groomed to be worthy of becoming the chosen. their dad literally put like 6-7 swords in them (legit stabbed durge in the back) and said "if you aren't going to be my chosen, i'm ending your life".

now, i feel like writing something. because, i haven't seen fanfics/drabbles/pieces where durge also dealing with shit. maybe, it's just me, but, if i was really durge, i would have massive abandonment issues after my dad just discarded me. i'd have trust issues too. hell, i would have so many nightmares involving bhaal killing me again and again. "you are not supposed to be here."

and imagine if durge wants kids? or durge accidentally gets pregnant? (or the opposite where i think it would be only shadowheart and karlach, because lae'zel a gith, anyways, shadowheart gets pregnant)? durge's concept of family is definitely warped and durge got to learn what family is. again, look what durge had as a family? durge's father is bhaal. bhaal ain't the father of the year.

wait, what if redeemed durge is being hunted down by people who want revenge? it is said durge has an over 100 body count (maybe even 1000)...

anyways, I've rambled long enough.

tldr; durge is a victim. redeemed durge is also dealing with a lot of trauma; however, it seems like i haven't seen fanfics that also include that. just the companion's trauma.

p.s.: i may be wrong.

p.s.s.: who can give me my dream story of redeemed durge & spawn astarion adventuring to find a legendary item so that astarion can walk in the sun + healing journey for the both of them + maybe durge is burying their own trauma while trying to help astarion go through things but also astarion trying to be equally supportive (throwback to how sweet astarion is when durge almost killed him)

#durge #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 durge #the dark urge #i am rambling a lot but i am emotionsl when i think about redeemed durge

30 notes · View notes

vastunknownsea · 2 months

Text

okay, so I got the (one sided) crack ship outta the way (SkaterDawg) (Olivia and Adam) so now it’s time to get (not) serious

there aren’t many character options, only six teens and a few adults. I don’t know anything about adults so ima just ignore them for now (although Park’s and Dolly’s interactions in the show are mighty sus if you ask me just saying) (but I don’t ship it really)

two of these six are taken already (Maya and Frank) so that just leaves Moppington, Olive Oil, Dawg Bro, and The Mechanic. Or engineer whatever.

Three of these options low key don’t seem like they’d even care for relationships, but who cares! Shipping there must be. So let’s see every option!

Olivia and Stanford;

(SkaterMop?)

Can’t really see them tbh. Their cringe fail may cancel each other out, but their dynamic seems more like a platonic, “here’s my friends, plus that one loser I know” or like … something. Just not romantic (in my eyes anyway)

Olivia and Adam;

(SkaterDawg)(I already did this stuff but eh)

💀 he calls her Karen dawg

Stanford and Adam Williams;

(Uhhh… )(WillFord?)(that sounds so goofy 😭)(MopDawg)

💀 a disaster waiting to happen, Stanford will lose brain cells around him

Stanford and Ava;

(IStanAvaPatel)(who doesn’t)(mopmech)(im tired of ship names already)

Eh, it could work, I guess. Most likely option to happen tbh. Tho I very much like the idea of them just staying friends, they would be cute I guess. Low key highkey all that shizzle. Classic bff becoming love interest stuff. They would commit crimes together (they already have) will break into abandoned places (or not abandoned) as date ideas and play video games (Ava always wins)

Olivia and Ava;

(SkaterMech?)(HeroMech?) (Ava is kind of a mechanic right?)(eh she’s an engineer but wordplay or whatever)

This one would be the most interesting in concept, I think. Classic “my ex-boss’s daughter be kinda…” thing. Or, “my dad controls your paycheck” “ha, not anymore,”

both their social battery’s will run out ten minutes into the first date. They both find Clark annoying and will bully him together. Ava would harass General Park relentlessly as Olivia just begs her to stop exposing every single general to exist (she knows all of them personally) Ava could fix those daddy issues like the amazing engineer queen she is 🤩 plus the undoubtedly goofy robo (or alternate version of HF1) Olivia will bring back with her from da shadow realm.

Their Veritas association with one another would cause some bumps in the road, though. Maybe, maybe not. (Olivia def scared the crap outta Ava in that episode 💀)

Ava and Adam;

(DoubleABatteries) (I don’t freaking know)(MechDawg)(I don’t like it)(possible) (impossible)

💀 I don’t dare to entertain the idea they don’t even know each others names. Possible if they get to know each other in season 2, since the other two will be presumably gone. Nerd jock dynamics? Same as Stanford but Ava would most likely retain her braincells

Frank and Maya being the goats per usual

What do y’all think? My own opinions are jokes obviously but now I’m interested to hear other people’s thoughts.

#mech cadets #the ships names are just jokes btw #olivia park #stanford yu #ava patel #adam williams #I think Adam is just destined to be alone #i lowkey kind of vibe with heromech #or whatever is ship name would be #like the concept of it #or #give Olivia an alien GF 2024

7 notes · View notes

stackslip · 3 months

Note

Love hearing you speak on Roman so much like you get him!!

The man is leaking with paranoia and abandonment issues barely holding himself together with the title in his hand. Underneath the facade he shows, the manipulation, the gaslighting and the overall abuse he has been perpetuating he's just a man who's been rejected time and time again. From his peers,his family and the audience. He's gotten what so many have coveted but its empty and hollow. I'm interested in seeing how his character will progress after wrestlemania. Will people question his tribal chief title? Will he break down? How will the dynamics with his family members change? Honestly I'm waiting for Seth-Roman confrontation because it will be so ough

Side note but it's also really funny that he always gets betrayed by similar people like Seth,Sami and Jey. My little headcanon is that he lets his guard down with more light hearted people like Jey & Sami as a result of his Shield days. Roman to me is just in his own wrestling time loop lmao.

Feel free to ignore my gushing but your posts have been making me think of him more :]

YES HAHA YES the reason i talk about him so much outside of like, special interest, IS because there's like three, four people on tumblr max speaking of his character and the storyline and actually exploring the meat of it instead of like............. hoping Big Samoan Daddy Wins Again so they can write self inserts or whatever. like i see so many people talk about punk with such passion and it's great and i'm also like look i know he's the big face of wwe and you don't care to see much of him but that's a shame bc what he and the rest of the bloodline have been doing is incredible, bar some missteps and longer lulls in the story. i agree that so much of his current character stems from a deep fear of rejection and a history of abandonment/betrayal from both other wrestlers and the audience itself, it's what makes him so tragic to watch and also so fascinating. like roman. buddy! by setting up such a horrifically abusive dynamic you're literally setting yourself up for people to leave you kicking and screaming, triggering the abandonment issues even more!

i know people have been complaining about his schedule in recent months (which imo stem more from like wwe management + irl stuff we're not privy too--it's important to remember that joe anoa'i's cancer isn't gone and it never will be, it's under constant management and he's mentioned having to switch treatments and their negative effects before) and tbh it has its issues, but i've enjoyed how...... pathetic he's been since jey left him. people have bitched about how diminished he feels, but i think it's 200% on purpose? after he wins matches now he doesn't walk around smugly like a final boss, he clings to his belt and goes to paul almost like a child seeking praise and reassurance. he cant win without solo and jimmy anymore but he doesn't like or trust them nor does he rely on them. he's terrified of solo and despises jimmy. currently the bloodline is in tatters, a shadow of its former self, and that's why it works!

the rock's inclusion, as much as i think it was a pivot, could be a real interesting way to mix things up after mania. for one i think that the only good decision rn is for roman to lose that damn title. he's been playing it this way for months now--the title feels like something he's clinging to, he has no control except for this! but it's interesting that during the press conference, the bloodline family tree named the rock as "high chief" which implies he's above roman in the hierarchy. and like. this is a toxic, shitty hierarchy! the twins were literally given to roman to do as he pleased bc he pulled rank on them, and this is unambiguously presented as something deeply abusive and a terrible state of affairs. the rock could do the same with roman!

so there are two things i'm hoping from roman post-mania, hopefully one or other other, or one after the other. this is assuming that he not only loses the titles, but that solo and rock tried to interfere only for roman's army of exes (now all cody's boyfriends) to get in there and stop that from happening.

the first thing i'd be interested in is roman sinking to whole new pathetic depths, to be stripped of what's left of his mystique until he's just a wounded mad king who cannot get over his kingdom being ash and dust. attacking others savagely (or pathetically failing to do so and being beaten the shit out of), others taking revenge after years of him dominating wwe in the same way the guys on raw tried to go after jey, and *especially* a potential feud with seth where the two are really at each other's throats, with seth confronting the monster he created and roman blaming him as the architect of his misfortunes, an easy target, something he can lash onto. i need him to lose that HARD and tragically. i need him to break and shatter to the point where the audience feels uncomfortable and even somewhat sad for him, same for seth.

the second thing i want to see is the rock pulling rank as high chief and roman, unconsciously or not, being relegated to the role jey used to be. rock proved in that conference he could do lowkey intimidating and more subtle acting that's not steeped in attitude era dramatics or flashiness, and wwe is playing on the idea that he and triple h are fighting for control behind the scenes in kayfabe. rock pushing roman out of the head of the table and roman slowly realizing what's happening as rock begins scolding and mocking him for not living up to what the family expect of him, progressively realizing he's going through what he put jey through (especially the manipulation and physical/mental abuse)--this would be a great way to eventually turn him face and build sympathy from the audience. it's gonna be HARD getting that sympathy, in part bc roman was such a charismatic heel and seeing him sink so low--it will def be harder to pull this off with him than with sami, the eternal underdog. but i think if they play it right they can have roman gradually realize the dynamics of the family are themselves hell, how much he contributed to it, and maybe others can reach out to him and try to tell him to get out. maybe even seth himself, or cody if he's still face, or sami. jey i'm hesitating on--i think it would work but only if he's yelling at roman to wake the fuck up and realize what this is at all. they would REALLY have to work for this, and it would take months if not a full year for it to actually be able to build to a face turn where roman would be *actually cheered*. i think it could work against the rock himself, now the authority over wwe, with roman having to make active amends with old enemies and gain forgiveness from people like jey and sami through active work. and it could inevitably lead to the roman/rock match they wanted so so bad. but i'd love a war games where roman isn't at the center, but has to learn to be part of an actual team and is struggling to not be at the center of the universe anymore. again this would be assuming wwe doesn't fuck it up and there aren't unplanned injuries or other plans. but to me it would be the most satisfying way to complete roman's arc--make him turn face *naturally*, and have him finally FINALLY receive the crowd's cheers and love after a lot of deserved work.

#eli talks #bloodline wwe #wrestling #also feel free to dm me i fucking love talking about the bloodline and there are like.#3-4 people in total on tumblr who watch wrestling actively and Get Roman

6 notes · View notes

spam-monster · 1 year

Text

Pokemon Scarvi thoughts/theories with the Professors, Arven and Area Zero

Spoilers for the endgame; also featuring original Sun/Moon (not Ultra)* because ~*mommy/daddy issues*~

*Sun/Moon is the only other pokemon game I’ve personally played in full (as opposed to watching Let’s Plays), I tried playing Ultra** but it was too much the same and I prefer the original version of Lusamine so that’s what we’re going with.

**Ultra Recon and Rainbow Rocket would have worked so much better as DLC for the original game instead of being locked behind a remake that came out literally right after the original and I’m very salty that we didn’t get that option until switch games.

My basic theory for the Professor’s backstory is this: Sada and Turo are Arven’s parents in both versions, and they both have the obsessive personality shown. Scarlet!Turo and Violet!Sada both left their partners when Arven was young, and I’m going to say it was because of the other’s obsession. There’s a few variations on this; either:

- They were also obsessed with Area Zero, but they ventured too deep and got trapped somewhere or thrown into another dimension - this is my main theory and it ties into the Lusamine parallels because it means the game’s main professor might have been trying to reach them (we’ll get into that later)

- They also wanted to build a time machine, but were heavily in disagreement over whether it should reach into the past or the future, so much so that they left to do their own research elsewhere and never came back.

- They were not as obsessed as the game’s main professor with Area Zero, completely disagreed with the other’s idea to build a time machine and/or even use the tera energy at all, and left out of frustration. (Why this version wouldn’t have taken Arven, especially since it would make more sense for them to want to keep their son out of Area Zero, is a mystery. Maybe they lost a custody battle idk.)

Anyway the point is that one of them leaves, and the other is left a single parent, and this probably hecks them up, and this is where the Lusamine parallels come in so we’ll address those now:

- Basically the other parent leaving suddenly sparks an obsession for the remaining parent to fill that gap with something so that their family will be whole again: for Lusamine this caused her to keep messing with the Ultra Wormholes that took Mohn away in a desperate attempt to find him which lead to her getting infected by Nihilego and going crazy, while Sada/Turo try to fill that gap with Paradox Pokemon and their idea of a “paradise” which leads to them becoming so obsessed with keeping the time machine running that they create a bunch of insane security measures to preserve it.

- Lusamine’s infection cases her to become manic and lose any inhibitions or sense of right or wrong or empathy, leading to her completely abandoning the search for her husband and to start treating her children and pokemon as objects that she wants to be perfected. (It’s a really good metaphor for kids having to deal with a parent that develops a mental illness but that’s another discussion)

- Sada/Turo’s obsession causes them to neglect their son, because they’re so enamored with the idea of a past/future “paradise” that will make their family feel whole again that they don’t realize that what Arven actually needs is for his remaining parent to be there with him. I would like to add that I believe that the pokemon behind the whole tera/paradox phenomenon may have been mentally affecting the Professor just as the Ultra Beasts’ toxins affected Lusamine, even further convincing them that keeping the time machine running was the only was to fix everything, causing them to become so paranoid that they create the Paradise Protection Protocol without even considering that maybe they should have included an override in case their son got caught in it.

- (I have a lot of thoughts on this relating to troubled parents from other media as well, with like Hawkmoth/Gabriel’s obsession with bringing his wife back and Endeavor’s obsession with becoming number one hero and raising a superhero child that didn’t have his weaknesses; basically “if I can achieve this one grand goal it will fix my family/make everything I’ve done worth it in the end”, when it’s the smaller things like consistently being present in your child’s life and supportive of them that would have ultimately meant much more to them than any grand goal and you’re really just doing it for yourself...but this is a POKEMON post and I still haven’t gotten all my theories out yet.)

Actually this is even more interesting of a parallel when you consider what Lusamine tries to do in the endgame - she preserves a bunch of her pokemon in their present forms so that they will stay the same forever, not caring about the past she had with them and stopping them from changing in the future; while Sada and Turo would have destroyed the present ecosystem by bringing back primal pokemon from the past or advanced pokemon from the future because they cared more about those unseen eras than their actual present.

ANYWAY FINALLY GETTING TO MY FIRST THEORY ON WHAT HAPPENED TO ARVEN’S OTHER PARENT

this is where the common “the time machine isn’t actually a time machine it’s just the being responsible for the tera crystals creating “pokemon” based on the Professor’s desires to see past/future pokemon (or pulling them from other dimensions or changing actual pokemon into these paradox forms which is why they’re all so aggressive they’re really just disoriented as hell from dimensional travel/being mutated without consent)” comes into play.

So the “Tera Pokemon”, as I’ll call it, wants to draw humans in and get them obsessed with using it’s power for some unknown reason. It first gets into Scarlet!Turo/Violet!Sada’s head and gets them to leave their newly created family in order to chase their idea for a time machine so they can travel to the future/past, but they end up getting sucked into a wormhole or something before they can get very far with it - possibly ending up in a pocket dimension, or somewhere else in the world but with memory loss? (It is also possible that they actually time travel, but presumably the Tera Pokemon can’t actually do that so maybe another Legendary causes it in that case idk.)

So then game version Sada/Turo comes in also researching Area Zero but maybe also trying to figure out what actually happened to their partner after they left, and the Tera Pokemon gets to them and convinces them that if they succeed in creating the time machine they’ll be able to find their partner and restore their family. In other theories where the partner just left, the Tera Pokemon may have instead tried to convince them that creating their “paradise” would cause S!Turo/V!Sada to see that Sada/Turo was right all along and convince them to come back.

I know that the line about “three of us” living together in paradise is taken to mean the game Professor, Arven, and either the ‘Ridon or Mabosstiff; but what if it was meant to be Arven and both his parents? The past, present and future family and pokemon all living together in harmony?

But then if we go with the theory that the Tera Pokemon can’t actually mess with time travel like some of the other legendaries can, the question arises: where did the AI professor end up after going through that portal at the end of the story?

My theory is that they actually end up in a wormhole/pocket dimension inhabited by the Tera Legendary, and maybe even meet up with S!Turo/V!Sada on the other side. And that’s one of the places we’ll go in the endgame (and we’ll bring them back with us somehow because let this poor boy have parents even if one of them’s a corrupted AI and the other one’s got amnesia or whatever).

And also this Pokemon/phenomena is tied to other legendary Pokemon/phenomena like Mega Evolution and Z-Moves and Dynamaxing and giant boss Pokemon because there’s a lot of similar themes like form changes and type changes and special moves and crystals and willpower and maybe it’s just a bunch of legendary “Pokemon”/creatures tapping into human’s collective unconscious to see what they think is cool and affecting pokemon based on that idk.

That’s my thought’s for now. I might post some bits separately and I’ll also probably make more theories when new DLC stuff comes out, but for now I’m done and I’m gonna go find some sweet herb for my teacher and do job evaluations and whatever.

(Wait one more thing the History Teacher is gonna have some kinda evil plot in the DLC maybe even trying to use the Time Machine again, and also let us overthrow La Primera and put Larry in charge plz)

ok bye. Thanks for reading my insane rants.

#pokemon #pokemon scarvi #pokemon sv #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon spoilers #professor sada #professor turo #arven #pokemon theory #pokemon theories

21 notes · View notes

delikaitxx · 5 months

Text

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN IS LIVE! Also, since this week is Christmas, I will not be posting Chapter Nineteen until after the New Year! So, be on the lookout Jan 3rd, 2024!!!

‘86 // Chapter Eighteen: Vecna’s Game (Part Two)

The night of March 22nd, 1986

MAJOR TW: daddy issues, the abandonment comes to light, angst. Mention of Billy.

Roxie’s POV

Eddie and I continue to stand off. I look at him in absolute disgust. He’s got vines going awol and his overall demeanor is haunting. I know it’s not him, obviously, but it sends tingles down my spine. Eddie with Walter’s voice. I know it’s Vecna, but what the fuck? He wants to play his game and I’ll play along.

“Walter is not my father. He abandoned me when I was ten. I can speak to him however I’d like.” I shakily state before I slowly start to look around. I spot the bat, thanking god it’s here with me. “Really? Daughter’s shouldn’t be like that.” Suddenly, Eddie morphs into Walter as I shake. My stomach drops at the sight of who was once my father. I watch in masqueraded terror as the vines start moving slowly towards me.

“Henry…” I try to reason with the entity. “Whatever you are… Please leave me alone. Leave us alone.” I feel for the bat as he approaches me menacingly. “You and Dustin ruined my life.” Walter growls. “I never wanted you. Your mother begged and begged.” I grip on the bat as my fingers wrap around it, my palm grasping it. I continue to take deep breaths as he edges closer to closer. “It took you this long for you to say that?” I challenge him. “That you didn’t love us? You thought you’d be better without us? Guess what?” I grip the bat tightly. “We’re ten times stronger.”

I start swinging the bat. I go for his vines and start running for it. He snarls in pain, still spewing words. “Roxie Gracie.” He taunts as I make it to the door. I unlock it and bolt out into the red atmosphere of Vecna’s lair. Two can most definitely play this game. As I run, I can hear him viciously thrash around. “He was right to leave you, you know.” He snares. I continue to bash his vines in, slowly running out of time. “Not only are you worthless… You also don’t know what you want.”

I hit another vine, then trip on another, losing the bat’s grip. I brush everything off and catch my breath. I look behind me, seeing Walter with vines coming achingly slow. “C’mon guys.” I think to myself and I run once again. What could he mean by not knowing what I want? Could he be referring to Eddie? Nancy? C’mon guys, play the goddamn song!

“You are one tough pill to swallow, I will say.” He says as a vibe snatched my leg. I get dragged into the ground and pulled onto a tree, screaming in terror. Fighting everything. This would be the PERFECT OPPORTUNITY. I brace myself as I’m face to face with him. He’s still masquerading as Walter. “Wanna change into something more.. Flattering? Let’s say, your true form?” I continue to challenge him.

“Oh, don’t you love to see your father?” He bites back as his grip tightens. “He’s skipped out for most of my life, I’m used to never seeing him.” I snarl. My hands wrap around the vine around my neck. “We’re going to destroy you. Me, my friends, my brother. We are going to end you.” “Not before I get you first… or, maybe this is a warning.” He covers my mouth with one of his vines. I scream in full force now. “No, no. PLEASE!”

In the distance, I can hear the familiar guitar riff. “Rhiannon.” I start laughing, which confuses Henry. I get strength as his vines weaken around my arms and legs. I rip them off of my body and my mouth. “What?” He asks absolutely flabbergasted. I snicker at his shock as his vines leave. “Better catch me if you can.” I taunt him before grabbing my bat quickly.

I bolt once again, hitting whatever is in my path. The boulders fall around me as Stevie saves me. I see a glimpse of everyone, including me. “Would you stay if she promised you Heaven? Will you ever win?” Stevie sings faintly as I approach the scene. I look back as I hear Eddie, begging. “C’mon Rox, I need you.” And Nancy holding my other hand. Luckily, I’m not levitating. I’m coming to you guys.

I see Vecna’s vines in my peripheral vision. “Taken by the sky… Taken by the sky.” Stevie serenades as I leap into reality, making my grand exit. You will be destroyed Henry Creel. So long, Walter.

******

“C’mon Rox, I need you.” I shout frantically as I hold Roxie’s stiff body. “The song is almost done, she hasn’t come back. What happens if she doesn’t? I can’t live without her. She’s my world! I… I can’t…” I start hyperventilating as Dustin comes to my aid. Nancy holds Roxie’s other hand. “Ed’s, it’s going to be okay, okay? It’s Roxie. She’s the toughest woman I know. She’s a fighter.” “I just can’t lose her again.” “Again?” Dustin asks as everyone looks at us stunned.

“I had a dream, a nightmare, last night. It was of Rox, in a similar stance. I couldn’t save her.” “Eddie.” Nancy speaks softly. I look over at her. “We’re going to get her back no matter what. I know I haven’t been the greatest friend to her, but, I just know she’s going to come out of this! Dustin’s right, she’s a fighter. She’s got this.”

My arms tighten around her as she comes to and collapses. Everyone gathers around us. She curls up to my body trying not to freak out. “It’s okay, sweetheart, I’m here.” I stroke her hair and move her bangs out of her beautiful brown eyes. “Everything’s okay.” I coo. She looks around. “That was the scariest, trippiest thing ever.” She mumbles, taking deep breaths, looking at Max worryingly

“He showed you Billy didn’t he?” Roxie asks her. “Yeah… he said I wanted Billy to die. That I wanted to follow him.” Roxie closes her eyes and seemingly takes it in, rubbing her face. “Jesus.” Robin chirps. “What happened, sis?” Dustin asks Roxie. She looks around at everyone terrified, except for Nancy and I, much to our confusion. “Our father, Walt… God fucking dammit.” The squeaks before going to hug Max. “What did he say?” Steve asks. Roxie turns around, with her arms around Max, looking all around. “Let’s just kill this sick son of a bitch.”

#joseph quinn #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x oc #maya hawke #robin buckley #eddie stranger things #eddie fic #steve harrington #dustin henderson #nancy wheeler #max mayfield #henry creel #vecna

3 notes · View notes

adelheidvonschicksal · 3 years

Note

Gosh, the Hawks x intern! Reader sure made me tear up :(

Like imagine him regretting not being there for her and his baby girl from the start and trying to make up for it now 😭😭💖

I was going to imagine this, but I couldn't because I ended up writing 3000 words. 😭 I just love fictional babies so much and want them to be happy, okay? I left it open-ended, so I wouldn't betray the "kick his ass" gang. I'm a weak woman 🥺 I still don't know much about him other than what Wikipedia and memes tell me but here we go!

Part One | Part Two

Hawks doesn’t think you’ll ever let him in, not that he could blame you. Every time you see him, your expression hardens, pretty eyes narrow into a glare, nostrils flare, breathing heavy. His only bright light during your last exchange is that you wait three seconds before slamming the door in his face rather than the usual zero.

Oh, he’s definitely softening you up. Not.

It’s been a month now that he’s been at this, and he is starting to wonder if this entire thing is worth the headache. All he’s accomplished so far is bothering you with his requests to talk. Then, he remembers the little angel that you have with you and thinks it’s worth the headache.

At first, he had ignored your previous exchange that day at the park and the nagging feeling in the corner of his mind upon seeing the two of you. Until that same feeling started to weigh on his heart. He quickly realizes what those feelings were. Guilt and regret at not taking another path with the high schooler he so carelessly took advantage of and impregnated.

If he had, he could be annoying Endeavor about his cute little wife right about now.

Hawks feels a bit like Icarus flying too close to the sun and now sinking in a turbulent ocean of his own making. Instead of drowning, the world decides to throw him a lifeline as the receptionist patches a call through to him.

His heart jumps when he hears you on the other side, resistant but succumbed in your plea, “I need your help.”

The very next day you arrive at the agency, a small hand latched in your own as you stand in the middle of his office. You didn’t want to be here. The thought of being in the same place where your daughter was conceived with the same man who left you makes you antsy. You can’t believe you actually let Fumikage talk you into this.

You remember that phone conversation.

Your daughter’s quirk had been coming in full force, so fast you didn’t know how to handle it. You hoped that Tokoyami would have been able to help her control it since he trained with the very person she received her quirk from much longer than you had and that he was part avian himself.

“Please, Fumi. It’s getting worse,” you begged over the phone. “She accidentally hurt a few of the kids at school. No. No. They’re fine, some cuts and a little shook up, but fine. They won’t let her back in until she gets it under control though, so please.”

“I told you there’s not much else I can do. The best solution would be to go to the person with the same quirk.”

He’s right. He’s absolutely right, but you don’t want to rely on someone like that man especially now. What if he ended up hurting her?

“I don’t want to do that.”

“I know you don’t, but he’s been trying to contact you, right? So I'm sure he'd do it if you asked.”

“Yeah…” You growled. “I swear if he makes one smart-ass remark, I might kill him in front of her.”

“Remember it’s not for you. Although, I don’t think you could kill him even if you tried.”

“If we combined our strength…”

“No,” Tokoyami immediately shot down.

You sighed. “I’m only joking. Do you have the number to the agency still?”

Now you’re here, watching the very man who abandoned you kneel down to your daughter’s eye level. Hawks couldn’t believe he’s actually seeing her. It’s a bit exciting to see how much bigger she’s gotten in such a short time with big fat wings at her back holding way more feathers than she can probably deal with.

“So, this is the special girl,” he says. She shies away from him, hiding behind your leg for protection. “Come on out, Baby Bird, you don’t have to be scared of me.”

Slowly, she peeks from behind you, fingers still clutched in your pants leg, and Hawks smiles.

“There you are. Did your mommy tell you who I am?”

“You’re her and uncle Toko’s old teacher, and you’re going to help me control my quirk.”

“That’s right. You just turned five, right? That’s when a lot of quirks can get kind of hectic.”

“Yeah. I had a birthday party with Elsa last month.”

Hawks’ smile falters for a second as he thinks he doesn’t know exactly what day her birthday is. At least now he knows the month. Quickly, he’s back to normal to keep an air of happiness in the situation. “You know I know a lady that looks a bit like Elsa. She has ice powers like her too,” Hawks says, having grown a little closer to the number one hero's family as he tried to figure out what to do about his own family situation.

When her eyes widen, Hawks knows he has her hook, line, and sinker. She throws her initial shyness to the wind in exchange for excitement. “She does? Can I meet her?”

“I’m sure we could make that happen. If not, her son has an ice quirk, too. I’m sure he’d show you.”

The young girl smiles at him, but Hawks notices her vision drifting to something else. Cautiously, her tiny hand stretches out to him, making him nervous as to what she’s doing, before chubby fingers clutch around the edge of his wing, squeezing into his feathers. “They’re pretty,” she mumbles.

“Want one?” he asks, and she nods.

“This is my birthday present for you, don’t lose it,” he says, offering her a single long feather from the back of his wings. She clutches it to her chest tightly, a happy smile plastered on her face.

Then, you interrupt.

“Baby, mama has to run some errands, but she’ll come right back to pick you up when the clock says twelve. You remember how that looks like, right?”

“It’s a 1 and a 2,” she says, bringing up her hands to show you.

Hawks decides to walk you out as your daughter sits in his office chair, twirling around his feather in her hand. He isn’t sure what to say to you now that he has you near him. Should he thank you for bringing her? Or would that only serve to piss you off since it’s not like you wanted to do this by choice?

“Hawks,” you say, bringing him out his thoughts. “There’s one more thing before I go.”

“What is it?”

“Don’t tell her,” you order. “Don’t you dare tell her.”

His chest squeezes at that but he can understand why you wouldn’t want her to know that information when the two of you aren’t even on speaking terms outside this issue. He didn’t want to do anything to make the situation worse either, so he brings his fingers to his mouth and zips his pinched thumb and index finger across his lips. “I’ll make sure mine and anyone else’s lips are sealed if they want to keep their job,” he calmly reassures you, always calm and carefree so you wouldn’t think that your rejection is successfully deterring him.

From then on, you drop your daughter off at his office twice a week to get a better handle on her powers. You didn’t stay long aside from that, but Hawks likes the small moments when all three of you are in the same room together.

The hero can be thankful that at least one of his girls likes him. His Baby Bird quickly attached herself to him, always pattering after his footsteps like a shadow, and always asking if he’d hold her hand, a smile forming whenever he engulfed her smaller one. He even keeps his promise to let her see Rei, or Elsa as Baby Bird so passionately refers to her, now that the woman is out of the hospital.

He thinks that if that family can recover from what happened then his shouldn’t be much different as long as he keeps trying to put in the effort and not step on your toes too much.

It isn’t long before Baby Bird begins to get a hang of her powers. At least enough that she wouldn’t be hurting anyone at school. Hawks had hoped you would still allow him to train her past that point though, but you quickly told him that she wouldn’t be returning to the agency when she reached that point.

He was sad to hear it of course, but he didn’t want to cause what little progress he made to be broken even if he really wanted to see her fly at least a few inches before she left. She’s been getting into the habit of jumping instead of walking to practice like he used to do. Although, she resembles more of a bouncy frog than a bird, to be honest.

He watches, amused, as she bounces along next to him in the hallway.

“You’ve gotten good at that,” he compliments, drawing her attention upwards.

“I’ve been practicing lots at home, but I’m not that good yet. Will you teach me how to fly like you do tomorrow?” she asks.

“No, Baby Bird. Didn’t your mommy tell you that we’re done with training after today?”

She hangs her head down, her bouncing stopping as she drags her feet. “…Yes,” she answers, letting his arm go lax as she releases his hand. Hawks pauses, watching as she draws her hands to her waist and anxiously bunches and twists the bottom of her shirt, and Hawks throat goes dry as she asks with glossy eyes, “Daddy, why doesn’t mommy like you?”

He’s completely silent, wondering exactly when she figured it out or if someone in the office had told her, let alone told her the fact that you didn’t like him. Well, he guesses it doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. “How do you know to call me that?"

“Yesterday, my teacher told us that we inhe-inhe-inherent our quirk from our parents. I remember you said Elsa and her son had the same quirk, and you have big wings like mine and can make your feathers move.”

Hawks smiles. She’s a sharp one to piece it together in a day. “Your teacher is right. I bet you’ve never seen anyone else that looks quite like us.”

“No,” she answers, sniffling. “I don’t want to go home. I want to stay and play with you. Mommy is so mean to you. I hate her!”

Hawks cups her chin in his hand, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Look at me. Don’t talk about your mommy like that. It’s my fault she always gets upset when I’m around. I was mean and bullied her a lot, so if you’re mad, be mad at me. I’m the reason we can’t play together more.”

She sniffs again but it isn’t enough to stop the globs of tears running down her cheeks. “When we saw you at the park, mommy started crying when we went home. I didn’t know why she did.”

Hawks knows why. The reason you’re always so angry at him is because of the hurt you still hold inside for what he did to you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have cried. The opposite of love is indifference as they say, and he knows it’s true because he had been indifferent to the pain he caused ever since the day you came to him with weepy eyes and shaking arms as you told him you were pregnant. You had been scared, and he told you to deal with it.

Hawks scowls. He’s starting to feel sick.

"If you make someone cry, you should say sorry."

Hawks smiles. “I know, baby. I'll apologize to your mama, and I’m going to try my best to make it up to her, and you, too. I’m not going to make either of you cry anymore. Then, when she forgives me, we’ll play together again.”

She looks to him, a small glimmer of hope. “You promise?”

Hawks chuckles and grins at her, the same charming expression that made you fall for him in the first place. He holds out his hand. “Even better. I pinky promise,” he says and confidently hooks her finger with his. “Repeat after me: birds of a feather stick together.”

“Birds of a feather stick together.”

“That’s my girl,” he praises before dropping her hand to pet her head. “I think we might have a little time for me to teach you something before your mommy gets here.”

At the end of the day, Hawks is already waiting for you at the front steps of the agency as your call pulls into parallel park at the sidewalk. You step out and walk towards the steps, but your daughter meets you halfway by hopping over them, her wings flapping to hover before she falls back down onto her feet.

You smile at her. You can’t believe she’s actually flying, at least a little that is, but your surprise is ruined when she cheers. “Mommy, look at what daddy taught me,” she says, bouncing to show you her new hovering skills. “Are you looking? Are you looking?”

“Yes, I’m looking. You’re so good at that. You need to show me more when we get home,” you say but to be honest it’s the last thing on your mind as you glance over to Hawks. “Baby, why don’t you go sit in the car, and I’ll be right there.”

Hawks watches as she obediently follows your instructions, turning her back and happily hopping towards the vehicle.

“(Name), I-” Hawks says, unsure what to expect when your angry glare turns back on him. It isn’t until his yellow visors are already clicking against the pavement that he realizes you hit him. He hisses at the sting on his cheek. “That actually kind of hurt. I guess I had it coming, but I’m not really sure what I did at least recently,” he tries to play off, but you aren’t having it.

“You told her, you told her,” you keep repeating, and he’s backing away in case you decide to strike him again. “Are you trying to get her on your side?”

“Not in the way you’re thinking, and I didn’t tell her,” Hawks explains. “She pieced it together on her own. She’s sharper than you think, she can see that we look alike when she looks in a mirror, and she knows how quirks work. That’s more than enough for her to tell.”

His explanation is enough for you to halt in your assault, and you angrily huff under your breath. You don’t shift to leave, and there’s no door for you to slam away. He finally has you available. “So, what do you want to do now?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean she knows; and honestly, I’m glad she does,” he confesses. “I wouldn’t mind seeing her again if you’d let me.”

Hawks swallows his anxiety as he waits for you to answer. Your eyes shift from him back to where she sits in your car, fiddling with the toys obviously left to clutter in the back before you look back at him, thinking.

“She does seem to like you…for some reason,” you add distastefully, but you know full well how happy training makes her. How her little smile beamed when she fluttered over those steps. How the word daddy came from her so sweetly. “She always likes talking about you after she spends the day here. You make her happy. But that’ll just make it harder for her when you leave ag-“

“I won’t,” he cuts off.

“How do I know that?”

“You don’t but I promise not again. (Name), I’m sorry. I’m sorry for telling you to go away like a burden and for not being there. You must’ve been scared, but I won’t leave either of you alone from now on even if you don’t want me there. I’ll be there if you need me.”

“Drop it. I’m not a part of this,” you tell him.

He knows that you’re rejecting his apology, but his ears can pick up what others can’t. He can hear those soft inflections in your voice right before you harden it into aggression, the slight stutter that you so cleverly thought you hid from him as you nearly fumbled your words, a little glimpse of a teenage girl with a crush on her sensei. “Not yet but do know I plan on trying until I make you fall for me all over again. I miss your cute little face when I'd smile at you.”

You glare. “Say that again, and I will smack you in your "cute little" face.”

"You already did that, but if it makes you feel better go ahead, I can take it if it helps you forgive me.”

He just didn��t expect you to actually take him up on the offer. This time, it’s the other cheek that burns.

“You’re right. That did make me feel better,” you say, smirking as you shake the sting from your hand. Hawks grunts, rubbing his jaw as you begin to walk towards your car. He bends down to pick up his shades before following close behind. You open the driver’s door, and say, “I expect you to pick her up at 9 tomorrow. If you’re late, don’t bother showing up ever again.”

Hawks smirks. You certainly became aggressive these past few years, but he thinks he kind of likes it. As you get in your car, he notices Baby Bird smiling at him from the window, her hand up and clutched around that birthday feather he gifted to her as she waves him off.

He’ll definitely be there on time.

#hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #hawks x y/n #bnha hawks

372 notes · View notes

britishassistant · 3 years

Note

What happens if a new villain comes to town and starts tearing shit up? Like a new rival shows up, falls in love with yuu, and kidnaps them before enacting a huge take over the city scheme, will the NRC and RSA finally come together for the same goal? Or would it lead to chaotic in-fighting in their individual attempts to rescue the reporter and save the city/stop this jerk face from showing them up only for yuu to break out just so they can knock them all upside the head?

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

“It’s so simple, love.” The villain coos, one hand cupping Yuu’s chin gently to tilt their face up, “Just accept my proposal, and we won’t need to have any nasty accidents where you and the tarmac down there have a...terminal disagreement.”

Yuu glances down at the drop from where they’ve been “tied” to the top of the skyscraper by the metal beams that the supervillain bent around their body like they were rubber. They think they can see a flock of pigeons flapping by below them. “That’s your idea of a threat? Really? Because I’ve heard worse over breakfast. Sorry, but I really don’t think we have the right chemistry to accept marriage to the likes of you.”

The villain pouts, leaning against the tip of the building as if they were a pair of people chatting on the streets far below, and not one hapless captive tied to an antenna and their captor floating with nary a second thought in midair. “Oh c’mon now love. Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be—you know that I could do far better with your Daddy’s little league than any of those second-rate bozos crowding around you.”

The reporter’s gaze sharpens, the corner of their mouth curling up in a snarl. “Don’t. Refer to them. Like that. They’re each seven times the supervillain you are, at least. Besides, I’d rather be turned into pancake mix on the pavement than do anything that could advance that man’s little projects.”

The villain tuts, coiffed hair ruffled by the breeze as he leans in far closer than Yuu is comfortable with. “Don’t play hard to get, love. So you’ve got Daddy issues, who doesn’t? It’s no reason to get in the way of progress. Maybe you’ll change your mind if I show you exactly what I can offer...”

Yuu recoils as the villain’s tongue forces its way into their mouth when their lips collide with all the force of a car crash, an invasive writhing thing that makes them gag at how far it pushes in as the villain hums greedily at their taste.

And one that the reporter swiftly brings their teeth down on.

Hard.

“FUCK! Ugh—you foul little bitch!!”

The backhand jars the reporter’s skull even as they brace for it, cutting the inside of their mouth and leaving them worried that if they try spitting out the blood gathering there, they’ll lose a tooth along with it.

The villain huffs, one hand carding through his ruffled hair. His tongue is already whole and unblemished, the last indents of their teeth healing as the reporter watches. “I didn’t want to do this, you know. I would’ve gladly taken you to the altar, and had you screaming in our wedding bed. I could’ve made you happy, if you’d just do what you’re told.”

Yuu sneers. “Frankly, I can’t imagine anything more boring.”

They take cold comfort in the fury that burns in the supervillain’s eyes at that.

“Fine. Fine.” The villain floats away, his eyes glowing that same bright red that melted through the wall to Yuu’s bedroom when they were first taken. “I was prepared to do this the nice way. I wanted to do this the nice way. But if you’re going to be such a little bitch about it, then I can always rely on the old fashioned method of succession.”

The laser beams swipe through the block of abandoned offices four stories below where the reporter is tied up.

The top of the building wavers, then begins to crumble forwards.

The villain says something else, probably something mocking and challenging them to get out of this mess because that’s the kind of cliche line that’s always used here, but Yuu can’t hear him over the whistle of the wind in their ears and the scream torn from their throat as they plummet.

They try frantically tug their arms free as their legs are pulled upwards by gravity, try their damndest to squirm free, but it’s no use, they’re not The Prefect right now, don’t even have the fedora on them, they’re Yuu, just Yuu, just helpless reporter Yuu, who can’t break steel beams with their pathetic powerless normal person strength, they’re going to die, they’re going to die, they’re going to die, they’re going to die, they’re going to die, they’re going to die, they’re going to die, they’re going to die, they’re going to die, oh Great Seven, they’re going to die—!

“KING'S ROAR!!!”

There’s a discombobulating moment of freefall as the metal and concrete around them disintegrates into sand.

Then a strong, wiry arm loops around their waist and they’re pinned to a carpet as their rapid descent gradually slows to a stop in midair.

“Need a lift?” They can’t see Snake Charmer’s eyebrows through the mask, but they get the feeling one of them is raised in a wry fashion as he smirks at them.

The reporter lets out a hysterical, shaky laugh that only narrowly escapes becoming a sob, trembling hands seizing onto the two supervillains like they’re lifelines. “Wh-what took y-you so long? Did you ge-get held up in traffic?”

King grumbles, flicking their temple gently as Water Boy laughs gleefully from where he’s steering the carpet. “You could show a little more gratitude, herbivore. Do you know how hard it was to evade all the goody-two-shoes on the way here to save your ass?”

Yuu’s about to reply, when they catch a movement above them out of the corner of their eye.

“INCOMING!!”

Water Boy jerks the flying carpet to the side just in time for the villain to plunge past them fist-first, close enough to see his teeth bared in a furious snarl.

“DRIVE!!” Snake Charmer screams at his lieutenant above the rushing wind as the villain rises back up to try his luck again. Water Boy presses the corners of the carpet forwards and they go into a rollercoaster dive that makes the reporter’s stomach roil in protest.

King unleashes his powers on the two buildings behind them, disintegrating the foundations in hopes that the tonnes of concrete and rebar would be enough to slow the flying brick chasing them. The villain just bursts through the obstacles with nary a broken sweat, and speeds up to the point where Water Boy has to turn the carpet upside down so they don’t get knocked out of the sky.

“Where the fuck is that computer junkie?!?” King yells at Snake Charmer as they draw dangerously close to the road below. “He was supposed to be here hours ago!!”

“How am I supposed to know?!” They can hear Snake Charmer’s heartbeat hammer in his chest from where he’s pinning them to the vehicle in the absence of a seatbelt. “It was the conman who was meant to give him the si—”

Yuu can barely scream a warning in time as the villain looms behind Leona’s head, eyes glowing red and ready.

A rush of flying metal harpies collide with the bastard’s face, effectively pinning him in midair as he struggles to destroy the thousands-strong swarm that obstructs his path to them.

“OPEN FIRE!!” Comes Hermes’ high-pitched cry as a blue beam shoots past them at the center of the robotic maelstrom.

A pair of red lasers rocket out to meet it, almost seeming as though it could push Ortho’s assault back—!

A white-hot streak of lightening descends from the formerly clear sky to where the villain was pinned, disrupting the red eye lasers and allowing Hermes’ beam to make contact.

There’s a hideous scream and the stench of burnt meat.

“We’re coming in too fast!!” Water Boy yells, tugging on the carpet’s tassels until they’re almost vertical. “Ja—I, I don’t know if we’ll slow down in time!!”

Yuu barely hears the curses the other two occupants spit, lunging to try and cover as much of them as they can with their body. Even if they crash, if Yuu can just absorb most of the shock of the landing—!

Small pinpricks of pain latch onto their scalp, their pajamas, the carpet and supervillains beneath them, hundreds of small beating appendages smacking them all in the face as the carpet’s rapid descent slows incrementally.

“Oh boys~?”

Four sets of strong hands seize the front of the carpet, their owners grunting as they attempt to force the carpet’s stop through sheer force. Of course, the continued existence of Newton’s Third Law combined with the reporter’s precarious shielding position means that though the carpet experiences sudden stop, Yuu keeps going at the same high speed that will ensure serious injury once they hit the tarmac.

Or it would do, if they didn’t collide with a solid chest and waiting pair of arms first.

The reporter finds themselves cradled in a nearly crushing grip, their catcher muttering “child of man, child of man,” into the top of their head and a warm thumb swipes over the rapidly darkening bruise on their cheek. The wind picks up around them alarmingly, whipping into a gale.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m okay.” Yuu reaches up to pat Tsunotaro’s head soothingly. “See? Just a few scrapes and a little scare. Give me an ice pack and a shower and I’ll be right as rain.”

Tsunotaro doesn’t look very convinced, but at least the wind drops to more of a strong breeze.

“Oi, let ‘em down, you dumb lizard.” King growls behind the reporter, the rings on his tail clattering as it swishes irritably. “We did all the work of saving them, you don’t get to take the rewards.”

Tsunotaro clutches them closer, getting that stubborn look in his eyes that makes Yuu want to groan in exasperation. “No.”

“Why you—!”

“Now, now children, the world works in mysterious ways.” Batman beams. “I’ve always found destiny draws those it finds most suitable together.”

The reporter rolls their eyes as King snarls in response to that remark and Snake Charmer mutters, “I didn’t know ‘destiny’ was what you called interfering old fools.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Snake Charmer climbs off the carpet and straightens his headscarf. “What’s next?”

There’s a crash as the mass of robots pinning the singed villain about three blocks down the street begins to shift, however unwillingly.

“‘Kay, the ‘save the princess’ team barely cleared the parameters for their part of the mission.” Charon’s floating tablet drifts forward, the sounds of frantic tapping on a keyboard almost drowning out his voice. “Now it’s time for the ‘aggro’ and ‘debuff’ teams to move in, Tsuntaro-sshi, Royal-sshi.”

“Understood. I’ll leave the coordinating of the others to you, Charon.” Royal Flush looks up and raises an unimpressed eyebrow at the tall fae. “Well? Are you coming?”

Yuu could almost swear they hear a small grumble as Tsunotaro finally lets them down out of his grasp. He runs his thumb over their injured cheek one last time. “Sebek, Silver. Defend the reporter as you would me.”

“Yes, Tsunotaro-sama!” The two of them chorus.

Royal Flush shakes his head, then reaches out and squeezes Yuu’s hand once. “If anything happens, Three of Clovers and Howl-san will get you somewhere safe. But this shouldn’t take long.”

“Oi, don’t presume to give orders to my minion, Flush.” King growls, inserting himself bodily between the two of them. His mouth curls up in a smirk as he places a proprietary hand on top of their head. “Besides, I’ll be here, won’t I?”

Royal Flush and Tsunotaro narrow their eyes at him, but their attention is claimed by the sound of metal crashing down the street as the villain shrugs off the rubble, the burns on his arms and face healing rapidly as they watch. His eyes flicker over their motley group, before settling on Yuu with laser-precision.

It’s only the arrow that flies into his shoulder, combined with a second lightening bolt striking him from the blue that keeps that metaphor from becoming literal.

Yuu chokes a little at the pressure on their pajama shirt collar as they’re dragged out of the line of fire. From where they’re crouched behind a car, they can see Tsunotaro and Hermes throwing almost everything he’s got as the bastard, while Royal tries to close the distance without ending up attacked himself. They also catch a glimpse of who they think is Leviathan silently gliding closer through the alleys on the far side of the street.

But the villain just won’t stop getting back up. Despite the fact that anyone sane would’ve given up the moment the green flames were broken out, he keeps coming, no matter how many times he gets thrown back.

And he’s clearly getting closer to the reporter he so desperately wants to kill.

“Now what?” Yuu asks, barely able to hear themselves think over the worried growl rumbling from Jack’s chest.

Charon’s muttering to himself as more of his robots fly by overhead. “Need to pin down the rate of regen, if we can get that and surpass it so the ‘debuff’ team can do their thing before the second wave gets here, but what is it?”

The reporter blinks. Well, taking into account the insult, and the backhand...

“He was able to heal his tongue about...four, maybe five seconds after I’d bitten through it? That’s only a rough estimate though, it may’ve been shorter.” They murmur.

The area around them goes very quiet.

“B-bitten through...?” Water Boy asks, hand coming up to his own mouth with a wince.

Yuu scowls. “That creep put it in my mouth when I did not ask him to. Ugh, I would’ve gone for his balls too, but the metal didn’t let me lift my legs that far.”

They huff for a moment at the unfairness of it. Then, “King, stop grinning at me like that.”

“Like what herbivore?” His tone is the picture of innocence, even if the way he’s eying them is most decidedly not.

Snake Charmer ‘accidentally’ kicks him in the shin as the sound of frantic typing erupts from the tablet again. “Setting the Erinyes to follow up on Ortho’s and Tsunotaro-sshi’s attacks within a three point five second time frame...fwe he he he, let’s see how that mob likes this!”

With the clack of what sounds like an enter key, the robots above them begin divebombing the villain in sequence, deliberately targeting the parts of him injured by Tsunotaro and Hermes’ blows.

One of them sacrifices itself in a kamikaze dive that leaves a bleeding scratch on his arm.

The villain roars, the force of his fury almost knocking them over even with how far away their little group is crouched, turning the lasers on every robot within his line of sight.

Of course, this means he stops paying attention to the three supervillains who have been steadily making their way towards him.

“FAIREST ONE OF ALL!”

“IT’S A DEAL!”

“OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!”

The powers hit the villain one after another, his lasers sputtering out with a pained scream. The scratch on his arm doesn’t start healing. Neither does the gash he gets across his face when Poison Queen roundhouse kicks him away with those stilettos of his.

“Was that it?” Leviathan says, his careless facade somewhat ruined by the fact that he wobbles as he begins to levitate. “I must confess I don’t understand what all the tr-trouble was.”

A low whistle by their ear makes Yuu jump. “The bosses can be scary when they wanna be. Remind me never to piss off those three at once.”

The reporter look up to see Ace and Floyd standing behind them. “Ace, wha—where have you been?!”

Floyd giggles and Ace shoots them an evil grin as they chorus, “Sending out party invites~”

Yuu blinks and tries to puzzle out this cryptic phrase, but their attention is swiftly drawn back to the scene of the battle at the sound of manic, unhinged laughter.

“You think you’ve won? You think something like this will stop me?!” The villain cackles, eyes wild and beginning to grow red again despite the way his body tenses and the collar around his neck starts to buckle. “You think that second-rate half-hearted hacks like you can stop someone like me?!? I am your superior!! You all will bend the knee once I snap that ungrateful little bitch’s neck and take my rightful place as head of the League!!! I’ll decimate every last one of those pathetic, moronic heroes who pollute this city like a fungus!! And then, oh , and then I’ll make every last one of you who thought they could get away with this pitiable attempt to stop me—”

“Us? Here to stop you?” Poison Queen tilts his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re supervillains.”

“Stopping the likes of you.” Leviathan proclaims triumphantly, “Is their job.”

The villain stops.

The villain turns.

Over half the top heroes of the Royal Sword Association lead here by the minions meet his gaze.

“Hello.” Niko Niko Neko says with a wide grin.

Yuu isn’t close enough to hear if the villain whimpers, but they almost wish they were.

Almost.

415 notes · View notes

titan-fodder · 3 years

Text

Prima Vista Part IV

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.6k

Warning: a big helping of abandonment/daddy issues, lots of feelings, explicit sexual content A/N: y’all are gonna be so soft and then so mad lmao.

The plan was to go to Mike's house then back to campus. You said you didn't have anything to do at your mom's, that a long phone call would suffice, which is why Mike is confused when you ask him if you can stop by before going back. It's an hour out of the way, but it's not like he has anything better to do, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious about your humble beginnings.

The house is in a decent-looking neighborhood, small, nearly identical one-story homes surrounded by cracked sidewalks. He has to be careful not to trip as you make your way to the front porch, pots of dead or dying plants along the edges of it. You shove your key into the lock, twist and open, then motion for Mike to follow.

The den is dimly lit, ceiling fan above with only one working bulb. A crime show is playing on the TV but there's no one watching. There is, however, another light pouring from a back room, and as soon as you drop your bag on the couch, a head pokes out from the doorway.

"Baby girl!" A shrill voice cries, and Mike sees you grimace. "I thought you weren't coming by!"

A woman walks into the den wearing long, cotton shorts and an old tie-dye shirt then pulls you into a hug so tight that it makes you cough.

"Mom," you take a deep breath as if to refill your lungs with all the air that was pushed from them. "This is Mike."

He holds out a hand and smiles, but all your mother does is stare with round eyes and blurt, "Oh, he's a big boy."

"My fucking god." You don't yell or whine, just pinch the bridge of your nose and mumble, "Just shake his hand please."

"Sorry, I'm sorry, just was not expecting… You didn't tell me how tall he was."

"'Cause it doesn't matter. Why would I—nevermind," you cut yourself off, face falling flat just like your voice.

Mike isn't sure if he should be flattered or offended or embarrassed, so he just ignores the comment entirely and says, "Nice to meet you."

You make your escape to the back, dragging Mike with you before shutting your bedroom door and leaning against it.

"Mom is a little weird, but you'll always know where you stand with her," you tell him. "Also, sorry about the house. She’s a teacher, so she’s usually pretty beat at the end of the day. Not enough energy to do a lotta cleaning."

"Didn't even notice," he reassures you.

Mike unpacks his bag next to you, and you gather the dirty clothes from both yours and his, balling them up and taking them with you out to the garage to throw into the washing machine. Mike should have done it at his parents', but as you were packing up that morning, his mother got all teary eyed and his dad just kept shaking your tiny hands and telling you to come back, so it just didn’t happen.

Back in the living room, your mom is sitting in an old rocking chair, and Mike thinks you'll take a seat on the adjacent couch, but instead you ask, "You need help with anything? Dishes or vacuuming or somethin'?"

She looks up at you, fly-away hairs sticking out around her temples and forehead and responds, "It'd be nice if you could do the dishes. I just haven't gotten around to it."

"Can do," you nod and walk into the kitchen, opening the dishwasher and making a displeased noise at the dirty plates and bowls inside. There's room for a few more, but once it's full and running, you just clean what's left in the sink by hand. Mike finds a towel, stands next to you, and holds his hand out for every scrubbed dish, drying it and placing it in the rack to hopefully be put up later.

"You hungry?" You ask when you're done and drying your hands. "It's almost one."

"Uh, yeah. I could eat."

Truthfully, he's starving having only had a small breakfast at his parents'. He doesn't want to say that, though, doesn't want you making a big meal for him or apologizing for anything.

"Sandwiches okay?"

Something in your tone has him on edge. Your voice is too quiet, deflecting downward as if you're forcing each word from your mouth.

"Yeah," he nods. "If you get the stuff, I can make 'em." Mostly so that you can relax but also because there's no way he's gonna let you make him a fucking sandwich.

You shrug your shoulders, grab bread, lunchmeat, cheese, and condiments, then say, "You can make ours. I'll make mom's."

He knows he's missing something, but he doesn't know what, and right now he's too afraid to ask.

He eats next to you on the couch, you and your mom watching TV as Mike tries to subtly glance around. Mounted shelves are decorated with dusty, mismatched figurines, cracks opening at the corners where the walls meet the roof. The brick fireplace is stacked high with plastic tubs and books, probably from your mother’s classroom, and the carpet has seen better days.

Mike isn't judging—not in the least—but he has a feeling he knows why being here puts you in a sour mood. The house feels lived in, cluttered and cozy and worn around the edges, but it's still empty somehow.

After the three of you are finished eating, you take the paper plates and dispose of them, then tell your mom that you'll be in your room. She gives you a soft smile that you struggle to return.

It's a little more you in the bedroom, blue walls covered in old posters and collages, a quilt similar to the one in your dorm folded at the bottom of your bed. Your pillow cases are faded and covered in an old flower design that matches your sheets, and there's a small nightstand next to the headboard that's bare on top with wrinkled papers poking out of the bottom drawer.

"It's not much, but if you wanna snoop around like I always do, feel free."

Mike doesn't really want to, especially since you already seem so uncomfortable in what should be a safe space for you. The only thing he feels okay investigating is the old bookshelf next to your closet—mostly YA novels, some poetry books, an old set of The Lord of the Rings series, a textbook over rocks and minerals and another over volcanoes. Tucked away in the bottom shelf is a tiny booklet that looks like a photo album, and Mike has to fight the urge to pull it from its place and flip through the plastic pages. Anything to get to know you better.

You lay in bed, eyes locked on the ceiling, and Mike doesn't know what to do. There's a very small TV sitting on your dresser, an old DVD player next to it, so he figures he'll save both you and himself from talking by picking out a movie.

He fingers through them, not that there's a lot, just skims the spines until he pulls out a copy of Space Jam. You only glance at the screen when the intro starts, and Mike immediately zeroes in on the way your jaw sets and your brows furrow.

"I can pick something else," he tells you quietly.

You take a deep breath and shake your head. Slowly but surely your features begin to soften.

"'S'fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. My, uh…" You swallow loud enough from Mike to hear, neck bobbing with the motion. "My dad and I used to watch it all the time."

He doesn't know what to make of it or how to respond. In the months he's known you, Mike has never heard you mention your father a single time, and he's never asked in fear of what your response might be.

He moves your quilt to sit on the very edge of the bed, a little too tense as he heavily contemplates ignoring what you'd said and still switching movies.

"You can lay down, you know," you mumble. "I'm not gonna bite you."

"You have before," he tries to act casual, but it comes out too stiffly.

You laugh through your nose— "Suit yourself—" then get more comfortable on the mattress.

Michael Jordan gets pulled into a golf hole and the Loony Toons journey to retrieve his shoes from the real world. Mike is barely paying attention, more focused on the way your breathing evens out until it becomes slow and deep.

That's good. You could use a nap.

He watches you for a while, the way your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks and your lips part. You're all curled up on yourself, hands tucked under your chin, knees to your stomach, and Mike wants to slip behind you so badly, to pull you to his chest and lay with you until his heartbeat syncs with yours.

But first.

As carefully as he can, Mike stands from the bed and glides to the bookcase. He lowers himself in front of it, quickly finding what he's looking for and pulls it from the shelf.

It's a small little album, full of polaroids and old pictures cut in half. The first page sets the tone for the rest of the booklet, a photo of a very small you outside eating a popsicle next to a man that is most definitely your dad. You've got a similar facial structure as well as his coloring. Not to mention the expression he's wearing is one Mike has seen you make many times before.

The next picture is the two of you dressed up for an event. He's in a striped Polo and slacks while you're in a little checkered dress, a rose corsage on your tiny wrist. Some kind of father-daughter dance, Mike guesses.

Sitting on his lap at a fair, a chubby little boy a few years older than you standing close with a stuffed snake around his neck. A party where you're posed with an honestly frightening costume character. You in a bright, mesh jersey standing back to back with your dad, arms crossed, looking at the camera with your chins tilted upward.

They all look like good memories. The little boy in the fair picture appears several more times, and as he loses his baby fat, Mike sees the resemblance he shares with you and your father. It's too close to be a cousin—your eyes and mouths shaped the same—so he must be your brother.

Mike doesn't know how to feel about that because again, you've never uttered a word. As far as he knew, you were an only child, so why…

He gets lost in the pages, watching you grow and pose mostly next to your dad. Smiles and laughs and silly faces with your tongues sticking out. Your mom is in some, brother in others, and then, you're in a cap and gown, grinning widely next to your dad who's beginning to gray at the temples. His own smile is barely there now, a ghost of what was seen in the previous photos. It's forced, it's sad, and it's the last picture in the book.

Mike's chest hurts. He wonders what happened, when exactly you'd lost him. Was it a quick goodbye, or had it been drawn out and painful? Had he been sick for a long time? He'd looked perfectly healthy in all the shots. Maybe a car accident that took both him and your brother…

He flips to check for one last photo on the back of the page, but it's empty. However, tucked in a tiny, paper pocket is a folded up note that Mike stares at for a few solid minutes, debating the pros and cons of reading it. He knows he's already violated your privacy by looking through the album, and fuck, he's only been in your house for a couple hours at most—how has he already managed to tumble down such a humongous rabbit hole?

Your tiny snores reach his ears, and Mike gently pulls the note out, biting his lip as he unfolds it as quietly as possible. It's soft, like it's been read too many times, and the letters scribbled in all caps are beginning to fade, but the words are still legible.

It starts with your name, and then it's all apologies—sorry I can't stay, I have to leave, you don't understand how much this hurts me and so on.

Mike's eyebrows pull together the further he reads, blood pounding against the walls of his arteries, pulse picking up because he understands now.

Your father wasn't in any sort of accident; he just left.

The letter ends with a gut-wrenching, You'll always be my little girl, and Mike nearly crumples the paper up to throw away. He resists somehow, simply folds it with shaky hands and slips it back into the pocket at the back of the album.

He's never been so mad at a stranger in his life. This must be it. This must be why you are—

"Should've known you'd go straight for the photo album."

Your voice makes Mike's body jolt, his face heating as he turns to look at you with wide eyes.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

You wave him off and prop yourself up on an elbow. "It's whatever."

But, it's not. It's this huge part of you that still affects you to this day. Mike is no psychologist, but he has a pretty good feeling this is the main reason you hold everyone at arm's length.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"What's there to tell?"

Sitting up fully, your gaze moves to the screen just in time to see Michael Jordan step off of the spaceship and onto the baseball field. I Believe I Can Fly is playing, and you're gritting your teeth.

"It's not anything that comes up in normal conversation anyway. I wasn't just gonna hit you with it outta nowhere. Also," you look back to Mike, eyes still sleepy, lips pulling downward in a frown. "I'm not the only one who hid stuff about my family."

Mike sighs and quietly tells you, "That's different," as he closes the album and slides it back into the row of books.

"Is it, though? Is it really?"

"I..."

Mike shuts his mouth and actually thinks on it. He wasn't trying to lie to you about his home life or his heritage. He's only half Greek on his mom's side, after all, and he's only been to the country to visit family a couple of times—once when he was a child and once right before college. The culture is a little different over there, but it all seems so natural to him, especially after being raised to speak the language.

Honestly, he didn't ever tell you because he didn't think to, but Mike can understand the shock of walking into his childhood home and getting thrown through that loop. It must have been jarring for you.

It's a positive aspect of his life, though. It's not something that's damaged him or made him cold toward others. And, he hates describing you in such a way, but it's true.

At least it makes sense now.

"I guess not," he shrugs. He's not about to fight you on it.

You stare at him for a while, waking up a bit more as you rub your eyes and stretch.

Then, you flop back down on your pillows.

"So. Any questions, Zacharias?"

He's surprised that you're asking, and though he doesn't want to twist the metaphorical knife in your gut, he still replies honestly: "Too many."

A long exhale through your nose, and then you're patting the mattress next to you and grumbling, "Fine, I'll do my best, but you gotta come up here."

"Why? You gonna need to cuddle afterward?" He can't help but tease.

"Fuckin' maybe, dude! We're about to get into my god damn trauma so—"

Mike is up on his feet and flying toward the bed. He isn't about to sabotage the one fucking moment you're opening yourself up.

"Alright, what first?" You ask, trying to look bored, but Mike can clearly see that you're nervous.

"He left."

"Yeah."

And then he gets the full story.

Your dad was pretty perfect during your younger years—a bit of a workaholic but still good. He took you to dances like the one you'd both dressed for in the photograph. You'd spend days at amusement parks where he'd carry you on his shoulders. He coached the basketball team you'd played on as a child.

"Not saying he played favorites, but I was definitely closer to him than my brother was."

The brother who developed a drug problem at fourteen, who was always either out with his little addict friends or at home where he would just scream at you and your mom.

"He went to rehab a couple times, but it didn't stick."

He left home at seventeen and hasn't gotten in touch with you or your parents since.

"I keep thinking one day we'll get a call from the police saying they found his wallet on a fucking corpse, but who knows. Maybe he got clean. Maybe he started a family somewhere else. He'd be twenty-five now."

"Were you ever close with him?"

You shrug. "We spent a lot of time together when we were really little, but even back then he was kinda a mean kid."

It very quickly circles back to your father. Mike still doesn't feel like he has all the answers, so he asks through the skin of his lip, "Why'd he leave?"

At this point, you've got your head in his lap as he sits against the wall. He smooths your hair back from your face every once in a while, something his mom used to do to him when he was very young that always soothed him.

He hopes it's having the same effect on you, thinks it might be considering you've had your eyes closed for a while now, humming now and then as you talk.

"Honestly, I don't really know. I don't think he and my mom were ever in love. Like, they just kinda settled for each other," you sigh. "They didn't have a lot in common. They had different upbringings. But, they didn't fight or anything—not in front of us. They were good at hiding the hard times from me and my brother. They just didn't… click."

Mike bites his tongue, wonders if that was hard to watch or if you'd been too naive to notice.

Then, there's his second train of thought that's really just the voice in his head screaming, we click, though! You and I work! But he keeps it to himself. This isn't about you and him.

"I think maybe dad had, like, a 'stay together for the kids' mentality 'cause as soon as I graduated, he was fuckin' gone. And, I mean gone. We went to a graduation party the next weekend that lasted a few hours—just me and mom—and when we got back his truck wasn't in the driveway and his drawers were empty. He left that note you read on my desk."

Mike breathes. Just breathes. He tries to make sense of it, how someone could just do that without a real reason. There hadn't been any explanation in the letter, only apologies.

"Have you seen him since?"

You open your eyes and reply, "Nope," popping the 'p'. "I don't know where he is, and he hasn't reached out. Mom made the drive to my grandma's—his mom—but she said she didn't know where he was either. Pretty sure she was covering for him, though. She was always kind of a bitch. You know, save for the whole paying for my college and all."

Mike snorts at this, not that there's anything funny about the situation. It's just his first reaction.

You ignore it, moving on with an, "Anyway."

"Anyway," he mimics.

"I don't know if you've noticed in the short time you've been here, but my mom is a little… off. Not super good at taking care of herself."

"Is this why?"

"Clever boy," you show a bitter smile. "I didn't really understand since they weren't, like, in love or whatever, but… I think it was the betrayal more than anything. Like, it came outta nowhere, a big ol' slap in the face."

"Plus, he left you behind," Mike adds, as if you don't already know.

Looking up at him, you raise your eyebrows and smirk. "And, now you know about my abandonment issues." The last part comes out in high-pitched, melodic syllables, a little song that would be funny if Mike didn't know it was a coping mechanism. It most definitely is, though. He can tell that you're the type to mask every issue with humor and sarcasm. It's how you've been dealing with him for the last several months.

"So, that's my story," you conclude on an exhale. "Now you know all my dirty secrets."

"For some reason I don't think that's all of them," Mike pets your hair again. "But, probably the important ones."

"Mm. I guess."

The rest of the day is really just spent killing time. You cook an easy dinner that you refuse to let Mike help with, then sit in the den with your mom just like you did at lunch. A medical show is playing. Then a reality show. Then a game show. None of you say much of anything, and it's painfully awkward for Mike now that he knows what happened, but he can power through a few days of this if it makes you feel better.

Hours pass until you can retreat, and moonlight shines through your bedroom window, not that Mike needs it. He's memorized your body at this point, knows where to touch without even seeing. He makes sure to be gentle, to suckle and blow on your pebbled nipples as you card fingers through his hair and breathe faster and faster.

Leaving love bites down your chest and stomach, he sucks on your skin, gently grazing his teeth over every bruise. Mike wants you to see them all the next day—not a staked claim, just something you can't ignore when you look in the mirror, evidence of his feelings in every mark.

When you're finally nice and relaxed, he spreads your legs and licks into you, trying not to be too rough with his beard, but a few swipes of it over your clit leave you shaking in his grasp. You whisper his name, the common one that everyone knows him by, but then, rolling off your tongue like a prayer, you call him, "Miche," and he can't help the rumble that rises in his chest.

It should be strange. That's the name only his family uses, the one he was born with. He only simplified it so that kids in school wouldn't ask questions or make fun of him, and after that, it just sort of stuck. But, here and now, falling from your lips, it's so soft. So intimate.

You whimper when he sucks on your folds, making them swell, making them sensitive. And then, he's pushing his tongue inside of you and humming happily at the taste. His nose is bumping against your clit, and Christ, you even smell good to him—that ripe, tangy aroma that has Mike going a little crazy. He has to make sure he doesn't get too carried away. You can't make very much noise even with the rattling of the air conditioner, but as he slowly slides a finger into your pussy, he hears you moan around the fist you're holding to your mouth.

He stretches you just enough to get you ready, then he holds himself over you and pushes into your wet cunt. Your eyes are open, locked with Mike's as your brow raises and your jaw drops. It's erotic, something you've never done with him before. You typically either gaze somewhere other than his face or keep your eyes squeezed shut.

Tonight, though, you've been vulnerable and apparently want to stay that way for a little while longer.

He bends to catch you in a kiss, lips and tongues moving just as slowly as his hips, and when you reach to tug at Mike's hair, he pants into your mouth.

Those words are there again, stuck in his throat but slowly crawling upward until they're just there, pouring from his tongue, "I lo—"

Until you cut him off with a sharp, "Don't."

He makes a noise of frustration, wants to protest because he's so deep inside of you, and you're holding onto him like you want him—truly want him, but you mutter once more against his lips, "Don't say it, Miche."

So, he doesn't. He bottles the confession up and keeps it locked away, hoping like hell that one day you'll let him tell you.

After you climax and coat his cock in slick and cream, he gives a few more thrusts and comes inside of you, filling you with himself and wondering why you're so willing to accept him in that way but not in any other.

He's hurting again, like he did at his parents' as you walked around like you belonged there. Except it's worse now.

If you don't want him to say it, that means you don't want to say it back.

He stays with you for a few more minutes before pulling out. You leave to clean up, and while you're gone, Mike sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands as he tries to get it all out of his system, whispering it out loud to himself:

I love you. I love you, I love you.

You still let him hold you as you fall asleep, gripping his hand until you can't anymore, and as Mike drifts off behind you, he has one last thought—Just let me.

* There’s only three weeks left of the semester when you head back to campus, and you intend to make the most of every passing day.

You pay better attention in class. You study harder in the library to prepare for final exams. You go to a few more Pi Alpha Kappa parties, making sure not to burn yourself out. And, you let Mike fuck your brains out every few days. Sometimes it’s late at night after those parties. Sometimes you're too tired after the nights of drinking and end up just going to bed only to wake up in the morning and have slow, sleepy sex. Sometimes it’s in the middle of the afternoon when you both have breaks between classes.

Neither of you bring up anything that happened over the break—meeting families, details about your childhoods, how much you learned about one another in general.

Most importantly, neither of you address that first night at your mom’s, the way Mike had basically worshiped your body, how he’d come so close to uttering the three words you least want to hear.

Thinking about it still makes your chest tighten, your heart beat faster. Sometimes when you’re sharing his bed with him, back pressed to his chest, large arm slung over your waist, you think about why it is you’re so vehemently against it. The two of you already act like a couple most of the time. You walk with each other to class when you can. You stick to each other’s sides at parties. You fuck like rabbits and don’t care who knows about it.

And, though you’re hesitant to admit it even to yourself, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have feelings for him. Mike is your best friend at this point. He’s insanely hot. He’s goofy. He’s kind. Yeah, the frat boy persona he puts on around his friends is annoying, but you understand it a little better now. Plus, he always takes off the mask when he’s alone with you, giving both you and himself a break from it.

You know your time with him is quickly coming to an end—for about two months, at least—and whenever you think too hard about it, it makes you pout and huff. You’re not looking forward to your summer classes without him, but he promises on several occasions that you can call him while he’s at his parents’ if you ever need help with the material.

It’s impressive, the way he’s able to act like nothing happened. You know it must be troubling him, but it’s not like you can do anything to soothe him. If he was really upset with you, he would have stopped spending time with you, but he hasn’t. He just bottles it up, keeps smiling at you all crookedly, and keeps satisfying you in the bedroom (more than satisfying honestly. There’s really not a word to describe what he does).

He’s back to getting along with everyone in the Pike house, everyone being Erwin. It’s a relief just because you don’t have to put up with the tension between them, but it’s also awkward. And, a little frightening.

The brothers have Smash Brothers tournaments and movie nights, a few date parties here and there, and it never fails that at some point during the evenings, you find your neck prickling as it always does when you feel someone staring at you. You always hope it’s Mike. Fuck, you wish it was him. But, when you glance up and around, it’s Erwin. Every time. His deep blue eyes are trained on you, the corner of his mouth twitching upward on one side. It doesn’t matter if he’s alone or if he’s got Maddie or some other girl sitting in his lap. He's fucking shameless, and it makes your stomach hurt.

You keep your mouth shut for the sake of the friendship but also for the sake of Erwin’s pretty face. If he and Mike ever got into an actual fight, Erwin would probably be able to get a good few punches in, but you’re nearly positive Mike would end up destroying him in the long run. That could get him kicked out of school. That could get him thrown in jail.

Finals roll around, and you manage to pass all of them without issue, even getting grades above the class average. You feel fantastic, like your long term goals might actually be attainable. You have a long road ahead of you, but your GPA at the end of the year is more than enough to raise your confidence.

Mike asks you to come back to his house for the couple weeks between the end of the semester and the start of your summer courses, but you turn him down, too scared of what might happen while you’re there. Acting like a couple in front of his parents will only exacerbate his feelings as well as yours, and you’d like to avoid that as best you can.

Even now as you’re standing outside by the Jeep, he tries to persuade you one last time, almost pleading, “Are you sure you don’t wanna come?”

“Miche, I’m sure,” you tell him, trying to stay stern, but it’s hard when his sea glass eyes light up at the sound of his real name. It’s a habit you’ve gotten into, a bad one considering how much he likes it. How much you like it. “I already told you I wanna spend the free time I have at mom’s. I need to check up on her and… Probably clean, honestly.”

He lets out a little grunt of disappointment, then nods. “Yeah, I get it.”

“You saw what she’s like,” you remind him. “Someone needs to drop in every once in a while to make sure she isn’t, like, wasting away or something.”

“Makes sense. I’ll be bummed, though.”

“Be bummed all you want,” you smile. “I’ll probably still bother you over break. A lot.”

He sounds terribly sincere when he mumbles, “You never bother me.” It makes your stomach flip in the way you do not enjoy.

Mike sighs, taking in one of those deep breaths that makes his broad chest rise then fall, calling attention to it and making you bite your bottom lip.

“Alright, I should get going,” he concedes, bending down to kiss you too deeply for simple friends with benefits. It doesn’t stop you from humming into his mouth and smiling against him. You hold him by the back of his neck as he pulls your body close to his, his voice muffled when he tells you mischievously, “Don’t forget to send pictures.”

It makes you laugh, and you lean back to swipe your tongue over his lips so that he groans and chases after you.

“I promise I will. Perv.” The beating sun is nothing in comparison to the way your body heats at the thought. You’ve sent him nudes before, but the idea of him looking at them from hours away, fisting his cock as he admires your body through his phone… It makes seeing him off even harder.

After a couple more softer kisses, Mike swings into the Wrangler and pulls out of the lot. You stand in his parking space and watch him until he’s out of sight, then walk back to your dorm, dragging your feet the whole way.

You only stay at your mom’s house for a week, and just like you predicted, you spend most of it cleaning. She thanks you the whole time but makes excuses in between. You just reassure her that you don’t mind even though you do. She really should see a therapist and sort out the depression she’s been stuck in for a few years now, but telling someone they need professional help is easier said than done.

Sleeping in your old bed is much harder this time around. You're all too aware of the weight that isn't behind you, and most nights you lay awake for at least a couple of hours trying to imagine it.

Like you’d promised, you send him a few pictures, some of them just lewd selfies with your tits pouring out of the cups of your bra, but others are of your naked body in the bathtub, sometimes a shot of you with your hand between your legs. It feels wrong to touch yourself in your childhood home, but it’s necessary, especially when Mike sends you a few pictures of his own—one with his torso on display, defined abs absolutely mouthwatering and the V of his hips suggestively leading into mesh shorts. Another is of him in the gray joggers he wears all the time, the ones that always show off his cock.

He’s so fucking hot it atually hurts, makes your pussy throb as you crave his touch. It’s an awful feeling honestly, but even worse than that is the way you miss him. You aren’t supposed to miss him. You’re just supposed to be friends who have sex. Nothing more than that.

It's why you’re glad to go back to school. Your classes will distract you, keep you from thinking about him too much. The semester is shorter during the summer, so you have to work even harder than you do during fall and spring. You don’t really think it’ll be a problem since you’re trying to cram your brain full of anything other than Mike which is great motivation for studying.

Nothing is gonna get you off track, you tell yourself. Nothing will interfere with your studies. That’s the plan.

Then, you meet Zeke Jaeger.

* You're studying in the library. It seems like you spend most of your time here, nice and quiet and empty. The campus isn't nearly as busy in the summer as it is during the rest of the school year. No parties, no sporting events, just you alone with your books.

It's nice. Most of the time. A little boring but mostly nice.

Your eyes are getting tired, and when you check your phone, you realize why. It's almost eleven PM, meaning you've been studying for about six hours. You've had longer nights, usually spent on the phone getting quizzed on the information you're learning with a few breaks in between, but that wasn't the case tonight as Mike had to spend the day with family from out of town.

It's okay. You're supposed to be distancing yourself anyway.

Taking a deep breath, you pack up your books and slide your laptop into your bag, then stand and swing it over your shoulder.

The strap is too long. The bag swings too hard, and your heart sinks when you hear a little grunt followed by a, "Agh, hot!"

Turning with wide eyes, you immediately start apologizing, "I'm so sorry, oh my god, fuck, I'm so sorry!"

A head of light blond hair looks up from the brown stain on his white t-shirt, icy blue eyes narrowed behind wire-rimmed glasses, but when he sees the mortification on your face, his own expression softens, and he chuckles.

"It's fine. You can calm down."

You're still breathing heavily, guilt making your hands shake, but he really doesn't look angry. In fact, he's grinning now, eyebrows raised like he's amused.

The longer you stare at him, the more familiar he looks. You're pretty sure you've seen him before. Many times before, actually, and then it clicks that this guy is on the front page of the school website. You see him every fucking time you log in, looking much more stern than he does now. Baseball hat and jersey, mitt on one hand as he hides his other in it, and yeah, you know him.

"You're Zeke Jaeger."

He makes a face, scrunching his nose up and squinting. "Yeeeeah, I guess I am."

Best pitcher in the college league despite being a sophomore like you. He's beaten the records of some major league players.

You don't give a fuck about baseball, have never even been to any of the school's games, but you've been hearing about Zeke since the last season. You've learned to tune it out because, again, no shits given (and also you're much more partial to lacrosse now), but he's hard to ignore when he's staring you right in the face.

"Well, uh," you try to act casual. It's something you're pretty good at these days. "Cool."

He snorts, picking his shirt off his chest to air it out like it'll help, then says, "I don't know your name, though."

You run your tongue over your teeth, wondering why he cares, then introduce yourself.

"Oh, you're Zacharias' little girlfriend, aren't you?"

Your stomach flips at the mention of him.

"We're not dating."

Zeke cocks his head to the side. "No?"

"No. Just friends."

He hums but doesn't say anything, and your eyes are once again drawn to his chest as he fans over the stain.

"Okay, let me get you a new shirt or something," you try.

He laughs again. "I highly doubt you've got a men's shirt tucked in that bag of yours, sweetheart."

"I—" you pout for a second, mumble, "Okay, yeah, fair point."

"Another coffee, though," he muses out loud. "Wouldn't be the worst thing."

You shoot him a finger gun and smack your lips. "On it. Where do you get coffee at eleven o'clock?"

"I'll walk with you," he states more than offers.

Then, you're both leaving the library, leaving campus, and going to a little 24 hour cafe where you blow on lattes and cover the basics about each other—philosophy major, valedictorian of his high school class, playing baseball since age seven, etc. You should sleep. You should get ready for another long day of studying.

But it's hard to make good decisions when Zeke Jaeger is smirking at you from across the table like you're the most interesting thing he's ever seen.

* Zeke gets your number that night. You're not exactly sure how, but he does.

Then he doesn’t text you for three days. It doesn’t bother you that much. You figure he has other things to focus on. He’s on campus to take a couple courses and practice for the upcoming season, so he’s probably just busy. If that night had just been a one-off, it’s fine with you. It was cool to talk to him, but your heart isn’t broken.

These are all the thoughts and justifications running through your head when you’re in class on Tuesday and your phone lights up during the PowerPoint lecture. You glance down, expecting Mike or Hitch, but it’s an unknown number instead. Eyes flicking from the projection screen to your much tinier one, you slide to open the message and chew on your lip.

Hey, it’s Zeke. You have classes this afternoon?

You do not. And, you are too quick to tell him that.

He takes you to a little Mom and Pop restaurant, too far to walk so you end up riding in the black Bronco he drives, trying to convince yourself that it definitely does not make him any more attractive to you. Because you aren’t attracted to him in the first place. Right?

You sit at a table for two eating paninis and fruit. Zeke asks how classes are going, you ask about practice, and as you talk, he gets that look in his eyes again, like you amuse him or interest him or something.

It confuses you, and for a moment, you’re taken back to last fall at that first Pi Kappa Alpha party, the one you met Mike at when he tried to get you to shotgun a beer. God, he had been so obnoxious back then, always following you around and flirting and—

“You listening, sweetheart?”

Your eyes refocus on the man in front of you, his raised eyebrows and little smirk. “Looks like you’re a million miles away. Sorry if I’m boring you.”

“No, no,” you try to defend. “I just zoned out for a second. Realized I, uh, got an answer wrong on the quiz I took today.”

“That sucks,” he hums. “Anyway, I can stop talking about baseball.”

“It’s okay. Just go over the last, like, ten seconds,” you say with a laugh, hoping your cheeks will stop burning sooner rather than later.

Zeke chuckles and does just that, doesn’t seem irritated or put out. He tells you about how he has a new trainer this year to warm him up and make sure his throwing arm is in top shape. “I hope he’s as good as my last. Colt was always on it, knew exactly how hot to make the warm compresses and how cold to make the ice packs. Stuff like that. He learned my needs.”

You both laugh, and if it was anyone else, you’d have an innuendo sliding off your tongue, but for some reason, you don’t think Zeke would want to hear it, like he’d be unimpressed with your vulgar humor.

Back at the college, he drives you to your dorm, explaining that he lives in the apartments on the other side of campus and wouldn’t want to make you walk that far. Then, as you slide out of the Bronco, he stops you with a smooth, “Hey,” that makes you look over your shoulder at him. “Make sure you save my number in your phone, okay? I’ll text you soon.”

The way your stomach flips is worrisome, a feeling you’re only used to when you’re with…

“Yeah, okay.”

He grins widely and nods, then waits for you to get a good distance away from the car before driving off.

No distractions, you’d said. It’ll be good for your focus, you’d said.

What a fucking joke.

Mike has to help you with some homework that weekend. You can hear his smile through the phone, snort when he makes his little nerd jokes, then sigh when he gets to the actual subject and explains it to you without a problem. His brain is incredible, and when you think about it too hard, it makes you warm inside.

“You’re so fucking smart. Why don’t you let people know?”

“Maybe I just want you to know,” he chuckles. “You think I wanna spend my days tutoring every idiot who needs help?”

“Miche, did you just call me an idiot?”

You hear another breathy laugh followed by a sigh. “I have many, many names for you, but ‘idiot’ isn’t one of them.”

“Oh yeah?” You play. “And, what might those other names be?”

He lists a few, all of them making your face flush and your body tingle, and before you know it, you’ve got your pants off and your fingers between your legs. You can hear Mike’s heavy breathing on the other end, the wet sound of his hand stroking his lubricated cock, and when you reach your climax, you moan out your usual, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, Miche.”

He tumbles down right behind you, panting and telling you in a voice of disbelief, “Jesus, it just keeps coming.” It makes the pulses of your orgasm even stronger, remembrance of all the times he’s painted you in white, and God, you are so ready for him to get back to the school.

Then, there’s the voice in the back of your head that makes you think maybe it’s better that he’s gone for now, that he might not be too pleased that you’re spending time with another guy. But, it’s not like things with Zeke are going anywhere. You wouldn’t even call him a friend. You text on and off, have brunch or lunch or coffee depending on the time of day.

And, yeah, he calls you pet names, tells you that you look nice even when you’re just in leggings and a t-shirt, talks about his family and…

Okay, it could potentially lead to something more, but it’s only been a week, and considering his golden boy status, he could have anyone he wants, so why would he even be interested in you in any way, shape, or form?

Naturally, your thoughts circle back to Mike and the way he could have any girl on his arm, but he still chooses to spend time with you. To fuck you. To nearly confess his feelings to you. You have to wonder if you’re emitting some kind of scent or beacon, if there’s a sign hanging above your head with an arrow pointing down. Sports gods, come get a piece.

If only you’d never gone to that party. If you had just kept your head down like you had freshman year. Your life would be so much easier now.

But now you’re in Zeke’s apartment listening to him rant about some philosopher you’ve never even heard of. He’s gesturing with his hands, flipping curling, blond bangs from his face, and whenever he pauses to think, he scratches his beard. He’s very fond of the white t-shirts and jeans get-up, sometimes switches it up and wears a button down under a sweater vest. Both looks are becoming of him no matter how much you try to deny it, but when he drops down onto the couch next to you and peers into your god damn soul with those piercing, blue eyes, you have to choke back a dreamy sigh.

What is happening to you?

“So, what do you think about it?” He asks, looking hopeful that you might have some insight on this matter.

But, you simply laugh and shake your head. “Zeke,” you start. “I’m gonna be real honest with you here. I didn’t understand a fucking thing you just said.”

You assume he’ll be disappointed, maybe tire of you since you can’t be as intellectually stimulating as he’d like you to, but Zeke exhales in a lighthearted sort of way, shows one of those amused smiles, and tells you, “You’re cute.”

Anyone else and you would have snapped back, something along the lines of, don’t fucking patronize me, but with Zeke, all you can do is stare at him and let your lips part, silently asking for something you won’t speak out loud.

His gaze moves to your mouth for a split second. That soft smile turns into one of his famous smirks. Then, he’s back on his feet and asking, “You wanna go to dinner?”

You are more than relieved at the shift in atmosphere, but your heart is still beating too hard as you follow him downstairs and to his car.

* Summer is passing quickly. Too quickly. The eleven week classes are kicking your ass, or are close to kicking your ass. Lucky for you, you have your own private tutor just a call or text away. Mike helps you, and you laugh and goof around, shoot off innuendo after innuendo, but the phone sex slows to a halt eventually. You tell him that you’re tired, and you are. It isn’t a lie. But, it also isn’t the full truth.

Between classes when you could be resting, you’re eating out with Zeke. Or, watching him and the rest of the baseball team practice for the upcoming season. Or, sitting in his apartment, watching movies and chatting about all manner of things. Nothing important, of course—there’s no diving deep into your life story like you had done with Mike over Spring Break, but Zeke still learns the little things about you. Why you’re majoring in geosciences and how you became good friends with some of the Pike guys. You don’t give him the full details on that one—that you got blackout drunk and fucked Mike and just couldn’t stop. You don’t think Zeke would be interested in hearing about it anyway.

You learn a bit about his dad and stepmom, the latter of whom he isn’t very fond of. He also has a little brother who’ll be attending the college starting this fall, and he’s interested in the Greek life. Naturally, you build PKA up. Even if there are some… Problematic people in the house, there are also a lot of really good guys.

“I’ll make sure to pass it along to him,” Zeke tells you one evening as you’re both sprawled on the couch, backs against the armrests as you face each other. It’s how he seems to prefer to sit when the TV isn’t on. When you asked him why, he had told you, “Just like looking at you,” and you didn’t know how to respond. You still don’t know how to respond.

“Eren thinkin’ about joining any sports?” You ask now. “Does baseball run in the family or anything?”

Zeke snorts. “Kid couldn’t hit a baseball even if it was on one of the t-ball stands.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.”

“I would say he’s more academically inclined, but,” Zeke sighs. “That would be a lie.”

You can never tell if he actually likes his brother. Most of the time he complains about him, but every once in a while he’ll bring up something cute Eren did as a little boy, and you see a fond glimmer in his light eyes.

“Anyway,” Zeke waves off the subject and transitions to a new one—one that makes your stomach drop. “Are you gonna tell Zacharias about us?”

You choke on your own spit, leaning forward to cough a couple times, then challenge him with a nervous laugh, “I wasn’t aware there was anything to tell him.”

Zeke tilts his head, mouth pulling up as he raises his eyebrows. “Come on,” he chuckles.

“Come on, what?” You frown. If you were with Mike, you both would have died at that. Come on my face, you can hear him say, and you have to fight a smile because there’s absolutely no way you could explain that to the man in front of you.

“You don’t have to play coy, sweetheart. We both know there’s something going on between us.” He says it with such confidence that even if he wasn’t right you wouldn’t be able to argue with him. The assumption should annoy you, should make you scoff and leave, but instead you sit there staring, caught up in his gaze and cocky grin.

“I—”

“It’s okay, you know. Not like you’re alone in this.”

Those questions swim through your mind again, all the insecurities that you’ve been sorting through with Mike, but now that voice is louder because that sense of trust hasn’t formed yet. You’ve only connected with Zeke over meals and movies. It sounds domestic, but despite your apparently obvious attraction to him, you still don’t feel like you really know him.

But, he draws you in, like a moth to a flame. You can’t help it. There’s just something about him that makes you want him to like you, like you want to impress him, like you want to be good for him. You’ve been trying to ignore those thoughts, but they’re much harder to fight now that you’re sitting in front of him, taking in his wavy hair and pale blue eyes, that ever present smirk on his face, the curve of his neck that disappears into his shirt.

He could just want sex. He could just want a fling. Wait for everyone to get back on campus and drop you for another girl. You tell yourself you wouldn’t care; you’re good at keeping things casual.

Wouldn’t it be fun to be his arm candy for a while, though? Let people look at you and whisper louder than they did when they’d see you and Mike together? You don’t care about status, about being in the spotlight. It’s more for the experience, dating someone who could teach you things.

Mike teaches you things, that voice pops up again. He’s been helping you with your work for almost a year now. You can’t just overlook that.

“What, are you weighing the pros and cons over there or something?”

You snort. “Maybe. We still don’t really know each other all that well, Zeke.”

“Might I remind you that we’ve been hanging out all summer? Did you honestly think it wouldn’t lead to anything more?”

“Honestly,” you mimic, “I never thought you’d be interested.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” His brow furrows like he’s genuinely confused. “You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re cute.”

God, you can’t even count how many times he’s called you ‘cute’, how many times it’s made you blush over the last several weeks, just like it does now.

Then, he pushes, “Do you not find me at—”

“Of course I do,” you cut him off. “I don’t know who doesn’t, which is exactly why I don’t know where this is coming from.”

Zeke sighs like he’s annoyed, then turns the hand on his thigh palm up and beckons you with two fingers. “Come here.”

“What?”

“Come here.”

Your blood pressure spikes, breaths coming in little puffs that have no way of getting to your brain. It’s probably why you obey, rolling to your knees and clumsily crawling over to him. You stop short, right between his bent knees, but Zeke sits up, straightens his legs, and pulls you into his lap.

More of that precious air leaves your lungs as you exhale too sharply, staring at him with huge eyes. You don’t know what’s happening, can’t believe it’s happening. It doesn’t feel real even as you rest your hands on his shoulders, even when he holds your hips and pulls you so that your full weight is on him, but fuck, you can’t say anything. You can’t make a sound. All you can do is wait for him to make his next move.

“Why do you look scared?” His voice is just above a whisper, but at this proximity you can hear him without a problem.

“I don’t have a lot of experience sitting in men’s laps,” you manage, trying to keep your usual careless tone, but you doubt it works.

“For some reason I don’t believe that.”

You rear back, actually offended. “Excuse m—”

That ire, however, melts away as quickly as it arose. Zeke slides fingers up your waist, all the way to the back of your neck to bring your face to his—your lips to his.

He feels different, not at all what you’re used to. His kiss is more demanding, hungry, and God, you still can’t breathe, can’t think straight because his tongue is moving past your lips, and you’re letting it, letting him taste you as your fingertips dig into the flesh of his shoulders. You lift yourself from him just a little only for Zeke to pull you back down with the hand still gripping your hip. He makes sure you feel him when he grinds up into you, the zipper of his jeans rubbing you through your little shorts so that you gasp into his mouth.

You both stay like that for what feels like a fucking eternity, biting and sucking on lips, stroking over each others’ tongues until you absolutely have to break apart. You’re panting now, body still tense on top of his, and Zeke stares at you with half-lidded eyes and shows the ghost of a smile.

“Oh, I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

The statement sets you on fire, so much so that all you can do is whimper quietly and lean in for more.

And, as you get lost in Zeke Jaeger, you decide for yourself.

I need to tell Mike

[ next ]

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic #aot fanfiction #mels prima vista

215 notes · View notes

mggpleasedontlookhere · 3 years

Text

checkmate

summary: where y/n and spencer live in a world of soulmates; but how magical can it really be when the last words of your lover are the only indication of their existence.

word count: 7,054 reading time aprox: 26 mins

warnings: character death, angst

a/n: this is my comeback fic, I hope you like it. I made sure to make it extra angsty to compensate for my disappearance :) also this fic can be read by anyone!

masterlist

Chess is a meticulous endeavor, not only in its cold and calculated nature, but also in the player’s ability to detect insecurity flash across their opponents' eyes, the unconscious idiosyncrasies that foretell future moves, and the slow descent into hopelessness that disintegrates the former’s conviction. Most will point out the cruelty of the game, how callous it must be knowing your end eight moves before it happens. However, others will oppose this notion as it is the game; one must lose to win.

It’s all a matter of who plays their pieces right.

Before that pivotal moment, players can only maneuver through a black and white arena. Fingertips would drum in anticipation while the other would hover over their pieces, striding across the board with purpose. Regardless of the disparity between the players’ experience or skill, there is always one factor, unmoved by player attributes, that is not a disadvantage nor luxury for either party: time.

Even in the checkered plane, nothing will matter. The players will cease to move, forced to end the game by the lack of time. This mechanism in nature acts as a failsafe if either individual is unable to conclude the game. In other words, there are only two outcomes: winning the game by will or letting time take that will away from you.

However, what is not noticed is the growing ache in the winner’s chest, disappointment beginning to fester inside of them because of their loss in deciding. In that split realization, the winner is placed on an equal plane as the loser, wondering if they ever really won at all.

This middle plane is beautiful and tragic simultaneously—maybe the beauty is in the tragedy. But as my palm leaves a bloodied handprint pressed against Spencer’s chest, all I can see is the world around me turning red.

Please be okay, please be okay for me

My mouth would silently mutter in tandem with his desperate and reaching touches, a mantra I convinced myself could surpass time, all while knowing my will was seized from me the moment Spencer uttered the words imprinted at my hip.

October 27th

2 days before

Water vapor collected around the coffee mug pressed to my lips. Although it’s ironic to call it a ‘coffee’ mug considering it was filled to the brim with scalding tea. The tips of my fingers and the skin of my palms tingled at the heat given off. My thoughts drifted to the explanation of the first law of thermodynamics that Spencer had kindly explained during the walk home from the night before.

An unconscious smile brushed over my lips briefly, reminiscing the blissful moments of the team gathered around a bar table after finishing up a briefing about a local case. A warm cloud of content passed through my chest while a lightness traveled from the bottoms of my feet to the summit of my forehead. The herbal tea traveling down my esophagus countered the cold nipping of the autumn air, bringing a welcome equilibrium to my wellbeing.

I shrugged the knitted blanket over my shoulders further, staring into the calming view that the apartment window provided. Across from the building was a small, abandoned park. Most of the neighbors had steered clear of the area as it didn’t meet anyone’s aesthetic standards—well, except for mine.

Half of the trees have lost their leaves, counting down the days to winter. The park benches were covered with tangled vines, even some lacking required wood boards. In summary, the place was an overgrown jungle that no one was willing to inhabit. In result, the once communal area was condemned by the normal folk for being ‘too dead.’ However, I would oppose those who claim the lack of life in the park considering life is not only just living, but it is to invite death.

In my observation of the park, a soft reflection suddenly appeared beside the yellow oak trees. In my peripheral, I can see my roommate creeping up behind me with his limbs moving catlike. I bit my bottom lip to conceal the amused huff threatening to escape me, instead settling to blowing over the steam rising from my cup.

Just before I saw his head bobble over my shoulder, arms stretched out above me, I whipped around his lanky figure and ducked under his arm. “You know for an agent; I expected a better performance.” An inaudible yelp interrupted the fit of giggles I was in as some of the tea spilled onto my blanket. “Now look what you’ve done! Do you know how hard it is to get dark liquids off cotton?”

“Just some hydrogen peroxide will do the trick,” Spencer shrugged, insisting to pull off the semi-damp blanket off my shoulders. “Plus, you messed up my bit!”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot I was living with a five-year-old,” I teased, nudging him.

Spencer craned his neck to the side, letting the sore tendons and muscles stretch out from just waking up. All without forgetting to let out an obnoxious yawn in addition to his exaggeratedly extended arms. “I’ll have you know that this five-year-old has three PhDs and three bachelors,” he boasted.

“...and daddy issues.”

Before I can find a way to defend myself, the same blanket that brought me solace previously was transformed into an unmerciful whip. Spencer chased me around the couch until I slipped and toppled over the cushions, landing on the throw pillows. I buried my head into the leather arm, shutting my eyes, while I replicated the nature of Spencer’s antics by emitting ridiculous snores.

“You can’t touch me while I’m sleeping,” I murmured, feigning my slow lull to slumber. “It’s socially unacceptable.” During my spiel, Spencer had playfully grabbed my ankles and dragged me to a sitting position.

“SPENCER!” I gasped, clutching one of the pillows in hand and smacking him over the head with it. “You do not handle people like that! No wonder why you also have momm-”

Spencer’s palm gently nudged me back onto the couch mid-sentence, leaving my frame to hit the cushions with a loud thud. A boom of laughter filled the empty space of my chest, my breath thinning as dopamine jumped from my brain’s synapses. An enchanted smile caressed the corners of my mouth mirroring the one Spencer was sporting.

In these insignificant interactions, I would think back to the times where our comfortability was limited and reveled on how much our friendship grew over the years. There was a sense of solace that overwhelmed me knowing that introducing—and working on his—humor brought an auspicious light to the darkness that often clouded his mind.

My lungs deflated with a hefty exhale, my arm slinging across my eyes in relaxation. Clamored feet and the rug shifting against the wood floor caught my attention. Freeing my line of vision, I was met with a raggedy-haired genius with barely a foot between us. I reached out to comb through his locks, the webbing of my hands catching the tangled curls. “You need to shower greasehead.”

“Actually, the buildup of sebum and laloin in the gland of the hair follicles—coined as the sebaceous gland—offers moisture and protection, given that it is regulated upon its natural equilibrium.” Spencer leaned into the soft touch of my fingers, like how a kitten purrs against their owner’s affection.

“Well, I don’t know about you almost-birthday-boy, but I don’t think you want to go into the next chapter of your life smelling like you just changed out of your first diaper.” I pushed myself up the couch, gesturing Spencer to the hallway bathroom. “This is the big 31!”

“Y/N, we had a party for my 30th. I think I’m good to last for the decade,” he huffed, walking towards his bedroom to grab a change of clothes.

“That’s not the spirit, Dr. Reid!” I yelled across the room. “I swear Spence, you’re the only person who’d turn down a party... And, you even turned down Rossi’s invitation to go all out in his backyard.”

“Another year to celebrate the ever-closing gap between my time on earth and my imminent demise—oh, and how can I forget celebrating it in an open space full of ticks and pollen,” Spencer sarcastically jested, his voice bouncing off the thin white walls.

“At least you’d know your soulmate, right? Then I wouldn’t be the only one to deal with your ‘Debby Downer’ ass,” I added on, rolling my eyes at his usual pessimistic rulings.

“I would prefer nihilistic, but if that vernacular serves you then to each their own.”

“Hey, maybe after you die, I and your soulmate can mourn over you—bond and all that—and then I can steal them away,” I teased.

I looked to the lightning bolts etched into the crevices of my thighs, my fingertips tracing each design until it fell onto the carved words at my hip. In a way, the stretch marks made beautiful vines attached to the faded letters, covering the obvious red scratch marks that had resurfaced from my bad habits.

I kissed my fingertips before planting them back onto the markings, chuckling to myself of the intimate gesture. Unconsciously, I began to rub at the tattooed words once again, hating how their protrusion made my skin crawl.

“I mean I’m dead, what can I really do?” Spencer called out, stopping in his tracks when he reached the bathroom door. He faced me as he spoke, going on about his birthday celebration tomorrow—half of his speech unheard to me—until he requested my immediate attention. “You have to stop picking at the words, Y/N. You’re going to end up hurting yourself.”

“I know, I know,” I sighed, letting my dominant hand fall to my side. A pout fell on my lips at the loss of the small satisfaction scratching granted me. “But the words are just so uncomfortable sometimes. I mean you got lucky with the whole soulmate placement.”

Spencer brought his free hand to his chest, thumb tracing over the small words typed on the skin. “Yeah, I guess I did get lucky huh.” A soft smile grazed over his lips while his eyes were still trained on the unknowing figure resting against the couch.

“What does your marking read aga-”

“Spence, what’s it say on your che-”

I groaned in playful disbelief at the coincidental timing. “You know at this point I’m starting to think we’re telepathic, Spencer.”

“That’s actually what my tattoo is,” he laughed. “It’s my name.”

“Oh yeah,” I nodded, remembering the first time we brought it up in the early days of meeting one another. “Must’ve saved a lot of name tags in elementary school” I teased.

Spencer shook his head, shuffling into the bathroom with a lightness in his steps. With the closing of the door, my gaze fell onto the marking once again.

Regardless of the mechanics of soulmates, I was never worried about the possibility of not meeting them. I was already at my happiest knowing shared moments like these were good enough. However, unbeknownst to my ideal wishes, an irking desire still lingered in the back of my head while fingers hovered over the imperfect skin.

October 28th

1 day before

“Kid, you can’t sit there and tell me that finding your soulmate can be ‘scientifically extrapolated.’ That’s not the point,” Morgan amusingly shook his head at Spencer, ruffling the top of his head as he brushed past him.

“Okay,” Spencer tutted, “tell me. What ‘is’ the point then?”

“Well, all I’m saying is that finding your soulmate—if you have one—is supposed to come supernaturally.”

“Morgan, did you just try to win over boy genius here by talking about the supernatural?” With a tilted smirk, I nursed the half-filled flute between my fingertips. My gaze flickered over to a pleased brainiac sharing the same mischievous glint found in my eyes. I let my head fall back against the couch cushions, my eyes fluttering close to the sound of grown children bickering.

“Alright,” Morgan raised his hands up in defense. “All I was pointing out was that things like these can’t be solved by numbers and science.”

“The same can be said about Newtonian physics, but look where we a-”

Morgan flung a ball of crinkled wrapping paper Spencer’s way, aiming for his head. Spencer attempted to dodge the projectile—emphasis on attempted—only to have it hit him square in the face.

“So much for those Newtonian physics, huh?” I teased while getting up to open another bottle of champagne. Spencer slouched in his chair, the paper cone hat on his head shifting to the side. A grimace replaced the smirk he initially wore, muttering about how he was going to get Morgan back.

“Y/N! Bring that bottle over here when you’re done.” Morgan called out as I walked into the kitchen, pausing the ongoing discussion of the case we planned to tackle. “Also, bring another juice box for Reid here!”

A chorus of laughter followed my ears which each step, a grin finding the corners of my lips. I rose to the tips of my toes to reach for the unopened bottle in the alcohol cabinet. I made my way to the freezer, taking out the bucket of ice I stored away hours ago. When closing the appliance door, my eyes landed on a picture magnetized to the surface.

It was a physical reminder of the time that Spencer convinced me to dress up as Amy Pond, the eleventh doctor’s sidekick, for comic con. He too was dressed up in the doctor’s attire: a brown corduroy suit, a bowtie, and a sonic screwdriver. We both had silly grins planted on our faces, it seemed like nothing could tear down the joyous bubble we were in. Upon reflecting on the memory, the kitchen door swung open revealing a merry Spencer.

“Hey, I was supposed to be getting you that juice box,” I joked.

Spencer shook his head, pushing past me to get to the cupboard. “Very funny,” he droned, sarcasm dripping off his words. I leaned against the counter, setting the bucket of ice to the side. I analyzed his movements, noticing how often he fidgeted with his fingers or how his legs would clumsily turn inward at times.

“You know,” he paused, turning around to face me, “In some countries ruled by military dictatorship, staring could be deemed as a call for execution.”

I crossed my arms, challenging him. “Well last time I checked; we aren’t in any of those countries. Is that right, Dr. Reid?”

“Unfortunately,” he chuckled. “Did you need anything?”

“No, why do you ask?”

“Well, by the way you were checking me out, I would think you needed something.” He sauntered over to the opposite counter across the kitchen, hoisting himself up on the granite. I watched as the casual smirk fell off his face after failing his initial attempt to sit. The second attempt proved to be better, although that didn’t stop me from rolling my eyes at his impotence.

“You know,” I repeated his words, grabbing the champagne and ice bucket as I began to stroll out of the room. “I’m really starting to think you have a better chance at ‘extrapolating’ your soulmate rather than finding them.”

“Wait!”

I whipped around to face him with furrowed eyebrows. I nodded for him to continue, watching as a sly expression reappeared on his face. “You forgot my juice.”

I sighed, setting the items back down on the counter before reaching for the fridge. “You are a grown man, Spence,” I gesticulated at the boy. I grabbed Spencer’s favorite sparkling water and left it aside. “You couldn’t get your own?” I raised my eyebrows at him, ducking out of the refrigerator door.

He crossed his legs, still propped up on the counter. “Well, you did call me a five-year-old and it is my birthday,” he argued, shrugging his shoulders tauntingly.

“I said that the other day, and considering it’s your birthday, that would mean you’d be old enough to conduct yourself,” I countered.

“Actually, it’s grammatically inappropriate to say, ‘the other day’ when the event in question occurred yesterday,” he began to ramble. With an unimpressed nod, I began to slowly back away from the scene until I was abruptly stopped once again.

“Wait!”

“What!”

“You forgot to put it in a cup,” he meekly suggested, his face evident of mischief.

“You’re clearly enjoying this aren’t you?” I groaned, shuffling towards where he was. “I’ll give you something to enjoy...” I whispered to myself.

With a plan set in motion, I sauntered over to where Spencer sat. Once I was in front of him, I made sure to give no indication that I was moving beside him. Instead, I leaned forward, letting our chests press together as I reached up for a mug. I would be lying if I denied the faint blush warming up the apples of my cheeks or the tightness of my throat from this proximity. In a nervous hash, I could’ve sworn hearing Spencer’s breath hitch as my chin brushed against his neck.

Feigning a confident disposition, I dropped back to the heels of my feet, finding myself to be inches away from the enamored and naive genius. “You need this?” I murmured, trying to maintain a collected tone of voice. However, Spencer did make it difficult with the intensity of his penetrating gaze or the way his breath fanned over my sensitive skin.

For a lasting moment, I began to dissect the small specks of hazel hues in his eyes and how a dark pool of brown surrounded his irises. The tip of his nose was flushed in crimson and his mouth hung in what seemed like anticipation and hesitation battling it out. “Uh, yeah... thank you.” His Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped, linking his fingers with mine to take the mug.

Without breaking eye contact, he set the mug aside and away from view. I opened my mouth to say something, but I soon discovered a dessert residing in the back of my throat. Slowly my composure unraveled, leaving me and Spencer in a purgatory of uncertainty and elation. I heard my heart thump against the walls of my ribcage as my eyes traveled to the parting of his lips, his tongue ever so often swiping against the skin.

I shook my head out of the trance we were in, popping the hypnotic bubble forming around us. With a trepidatious smile, I gestured to the living room, suggesting going back out there. “Do you want to...” I tied my hands behind my back, stepping away from him slowly. He nodded in response; his mouth tightly pressed into an awkward line.

With less than obvious movements, we both tiptoed our way back to the liveliness of the other room, soon forgetting about the juice and cup all together.

“Bye guys, thank you for coming! See you tomorrow.” I politely bid everyone a farewell, sending them safe wishes home as they excited through the front door. “Pen, are you coming with us tomorrow?” I received a tipsy nod and a few stumbling feet, but nonetheless confirmation for the case. Spencer was to the left of me doing the same, enduring some last-minute birthday teasing from Morgan before he made his exit.

With the slow creaking of the door, I leaned against the wood, letting my legs slowly slip down the floor until I was sitting. I tilted my head up, staring at an exhausted Spencer before making grabby hands at him. He snorted at the childlike request, aggressively pulling at my wrists until I landed into his chest.

“Alright birthday boy, just because you’re older doesn't mean you can get all strong on me,” I warned, nuzzling my heavy head onto his shoulder. A pleasant silence surrounded us, our bodies maintaining an equal balance as we leaned onto each other. On another note, it reminded me of Newton’s principle of force that Spencer explained to me a few months back. How Newton’s cradle, a simple office trinket, exemplified conservation of momentum and energy. In this fragment of space, it felt like that with Spencer—it always felt like that: a comfortable momentum.

“Hey Spence?”

The quiet continued to spread throughout the atmosphere.

“Spencer?” I pressed my chin against his chest, feeling his arms find their way to my lower back. He hummed in response, his eyelids resting at a closed position. “I’m sorry about that thing in the kitchen... I was just messing around.”

He took a while to react before sighing and pressing a tired kiss to the side of my head; with that, I knew things were okay. “Oh! I didn’t give you your present yet.”

I melted away from his arms, scurrying off to the couch. In an exaggerated reveal, I pulled a small parcel from beneath the cushions, glee filling my eyes as I watched the bow on top spring out. I extended my arms towards Spencer, eager to have him open it.

He walked tentatively towards me, taking purposefully leisurely strides. At one point he began to act like he was in a slow-motion sequence, causing me to threaten the integrity of his present. With raised hands, he sat next to me on the couch and gently pried the gift from my hands. “What did you get me this time? Let me guess. From the size and shape of his package here,” he turned the box around in his hands, shaking it up, “and the sound to force ratio-”

“Just open the damn thing, Spence.”

He smiled at my usual impatience, letting his fingers glide against the edge of the parcel. Finally, with gentle hands, he picked apart the wrapping paper, careful not to rip the heart sticker that held the presentation together. He gathered the bow in his palm, and gently pressed the sticky side of the accessory to my cheek.

I cringed at the feeling, but that soon dissipated hearing the mollified chuckle escape Spencer’s mouth. With a determined huff, Spencer pulled the last pieces of wrapping paper from the box and was left with a frayed book in his palm.

“The Parliment of Foweles...” he whispered; an unreadable expression crossed his features.

I curled into my own body, anticipating some form of reaction. “I... I remember you told me the first time we really sat down and got to know each other that your mom used to read that to you when you were younger.” I picked at the stitches on the couch, a lump forming in my esophagus as my tongue swelled. “It’s first edition...” I smiled, insecurity beginning to conquer my excitement from before.

“Sorry, if you don’t like it... I was just-”

A pair of arms pulled me into a secure embrace while a tender hand came around to cup the back of my head. An inaudible expression of gratitude was lost in between babbles of endearment and soft caresses. Spencer pulled away with pools of adoration, he clutched the book in hand as he pulled me under his arm. He ran his thumb along the deckles that adorned the sides of the pages, his palm tenderly feeling the roughness of the old woven spine.

To open the book, he singled out a random page and lightly flicked a few pages to the side before I halted his movements completely. “Wait!” I requested. “I want you to read it after the case so we can do it together,” I sheepishly tucked a hair behind his ear, hiding the careful blush on my cheeks. “If that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah...that’s fine with me,” he breathed, his eyes locked onto the soft curves of my face. I pulled my hand away, tugging my sleeve further down my arm. “Oh! That reminds me.” Spencer places the book behind him and headed over the coat rack next to the front door. Sliding his hands through various pockets, he finally pulled a small box from one of the compartments.

He tentatively approached me, turning the object in hand. “I know it’s my birthday, but... I wanted to do something because you’ve made everything better in these past years,” he confessed, fidgeting as he came closer. “Being with my mother always felt like home, and I just... you became that for me, so thank you.”

My fingers reached over to his open palm, approaching the velvet box as if it was fragile. I glazed over its general shape, turning it a few times between my hands. “Spencer...I don’t even know what to say.”

“Well, you can start by opening it,” he smiled.

I shook my head, gently prying the box open. Inside laid a beautiful heart-shaped necklace with words etched into the metal. Once I read the words, a heavy breath escaped my lungs, and my shoulders lost all tension. “Spencer...”

“I thought that it would be easier to have the words of your soulmate above your heart rather than you tracing over your hip,” he professed. “I also know that even if you deny not having any connection to this soulmate thing, it often brings you comfort when needed.”

My attention went to him the second he uttered those words. “How did you know,” I mumbled with an enamored chuckle.

“Well, whenever we’re in the field, I could tell the times you get nervous or need reassurance by the way you subtly touch your hip.”

“I thought staring was punishable by death,” I joked, referring to his argument earlier today.

He brushed it off with a wide smile, combing his hands through his hair. “I know we have a hefty case tomorrow based on what Penelope showed us last briefing, so I hoped that this would make you feel better,” he confessed, shrugging his shoulders and leaning back into the arm of the couch.

“Thank you, Spencer...really,” I wrapped my arms above my head, trying to attach the unlocked chain around my neck. “Can you...?”

With gracious hands, he lifted the chain from my fingertips and wrapped it around my neck. The skin of his fingers would occasionally brush the back of my neck, sending euphoric chills down my spine. I felt myself squirm under his touch slightly, although it wasn’t enough to be obvious. Lifting my hair to the side with his wrist, he clasped the necklace together, letting the cold metal kiss the skin.

I turned around, appreciating the trinket in my hands. I shook my head in disbelief, watching as some of the moonlight that seeped through the window reflected off the metal. “Thank you, again, Spencer.” I nodded, bringing him into a meaningful embrace. My head rested in the crook of his neck, an aroma of pine, vanilla, and old books surrounding us. “This really is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever possessed.”

He scoffed, gently wrapping his hands around the small of my back. “Everything pales in comparison to you.”

October 29th

...

I twirled the metal heart in between my fingers as Hotch’s words failed to reach my ears. I would look up occasionally to see the pictures, but we’ve been dealing with an unsub who showed no mercy to anything morally reprehensible. I sighed, swinging my feet under me as I pretended to be enveloped by the case file in my other hand.

“Since we’re dealing with a L.D.S.K-”

“A long-distance serial killer,” Emily intercepted, nodding towards the team.

“We’ll have SWAT patrol the surrounding rooftops. Emily and I will stay with the defense team here.” Hotch pointed to the house of the unsub’s target. “Morgan, Y/N, and Reid will go through the floors of the apartment building with the strike team—witnesses stated that he was located on the 5th floor, but we have to be ready for anything.”

I looked over to Morgan with a determined expression. His face hardened at the words and his lips was pressed into a tight line. In my peripheral, I could see the way his veins would constrict against the skin as he clenched his fists.

This case hit him particularly hard considering we couldn’t save the unsub’s last victim. It was a 4-year-old little girl, and we were misinformed about her possible location. By the time we got to her, she was faced down into a park well with a single bullet hole above her heart. I watched the slow diffusion of her blood, and how the water turned to a murky black. I couldn’t imagine Morgan’s guilt considering he was so sure of himself when reaching a breakthrough with the unsub’s whereabouts. The parents of the child would soon blame Morgan for his ignorance, spewing derogatory slurs in their distress.

“We’ll get him Hotch,” Morgan assured, “This time, we’ll get him.”

Spencer noticed the certitude in his voice, sharing a look with me to give extra attention to Morgan out in the field. I smiled at him, warmed at the concern that the genius had over his friend.

“I’ll be working with local PD to hold a press conference to keep the public on the lookout,” JJ expressed, crossing her arms.

“Since...last time, we figured that unsub finds enjoyment in toying with us or singling us out. So, keep each other in check and make sure to report back in your earpieces every five minutes.” Hotch himself seemed perturbed by the unsub’s earlier actions considering he had his own toddler to deal with. “Penelope has sent the coordinates to everyone. Remember the profile, and don’t leave yourselves vulnerable. We’re dealing with an elusive unsub that won’t stop at nothing to satisfy himself,” Hotch spoke with a quiver in his voice.

I bit the inside of my cheek and breathed heavily through my mouth. My hands began to drift to my hip but momentarily stopped as I remembered the chain around my neck. I slumped into the chair as Hotch dismissed the team, sending them out for their respective assignments.

“You, okay?” I whipped around to the sound of JJ’s voice. She leaned against the doorframe with an expression full of concern. Looking behind her, she noticed Spencer noticeably pacing through the bullpen waiting for a specific someone. He attempted to disguise his eagerness by counting tiles on the floor or squares on the ceiling, but to JJ he was easily discernable.

I let a dry laugh, shaking my head. “After what happened, I’m a bit worried—not about me—but Morgan and Spence.” I swiveled around in the office chair a few times until I landed in front of JJ.

“You know you fidget the same way as Spence,” she pointed out, grinning at the similarity. I shook off the oncoming warmth that flooded the skin and looked elsewhere. “You’re right to worry about both of them though. But you know how stubborn and determined they are.” As she began to walk out, she left a lingering message that soothed my nerves. “Plus, Spencer may have that IQ of his, but we all know runs things between you all.”

She wasn’t wrong. I’ve always kept a watchful eye over the both of them—maybe Spencer a little more—but nonetheless, I deeply cared about both of them. It was relieving to know that Spencer’s circle of trust exponentially grew from Morgan to JJ to me. It symbolized the growth that Spencer was mostly oblivious to, but it meant more to me than I can explain, seeing how he opened himself up to happier possibilities.

A sharp exhale left my lungs while my lips formed into a sly smirk. Without another minute to wait, I left the round table behind JJ, leaving Spencer to stop dawdling. “You ready genius?” I walked out into the hall, not sparing a glance at the figure trailing behind me.

“With you? Always.”

“Nothing here,” a voice confirmed in my earpiece. My gun hung low in my hands while I tiptoed through the floor of the apartment building. “You know Y/N, if I knew that the unsub was going to the pick a building in the area we resided in, maybe I would’ve considered having the party at Rossi’s instead,” Spencer joked.

I bit the smile growing on my lips, focusing on the assignment on hand.

“Maybe after the case, instead of reading that book in our apartment we can go over to that small library/cafe we’ve been meaning to go to,” he continued to drone, forgetting about the connection of everyone’s channels.

“Reid, if all you’re gonna do is flirt with Y/N, leave the damn channel,” Morgan warned. Hearing the worry in his tone, Spencer straightened up, coughing to cover up his soft apology. Being separated didn’t help the irrational thoughts that built up in the back of my conscience; I can’t even comprehend what’s probably going through Morgan’s head.

“You good?” I mumbled into the com; my eyes straightforward while I advanced towards the hall. Morgan didn’t respond, an inaudible huff coming through the speakers.

“I’m moving up to the top floor. Y/N and Reid, go back down to the basement and see if we missed anything,” Morgan broke the awkward silence with an austerity in his words. The silent hum that came afterwards was worse than earlier. I turned off my earpiece, sensing a conversation about to ensue between the two gentlemen.

The thickness in the atmosphere was similar to the air that surrounded me and Spencer when competing in recreational chess. Whenever I attempted to put his king in check, he would block the move by maneuvering another piece in front of it. This would lead to a game of cat and mouse until I would figure out that the entire time, Spencer had been deluding me into false security while checking my king piece. Ultimately, I would lose to Spencer. However, there were games where I’d outmaneuver him or win by dumb luck.

I’d like to think that I developed some sort of intuition for his behavior from playing against him, but he’s deemed unpredictable every game. He was always sharp, eight steps ahead and aware of all possibilities. I guess that’s what make him an effective profiler, always thinking in the future.

I ran down the stairs, still armed, when Penelope’s voice ran through the earpiece. “Updates! Updates people.” The joy in her voice always relived me of the gloom that usually surrounded me in the field; hopefully she has the same effect on Morgan.

“Hey, Pen.” An invisible grin was evident in my words, knowing she’d pick up on it.

“Hello, my love, seems like at least one person is happy to see me,” she verbally jabbed at the lack of response from Spence and Morgan.

Still no response.

“Sorry, they’re working out their marriage at the moment,” I teased, hoping for the usual distasteful comment I usually get from Morgan.

Still nothing.

An unnerving feeling crept up the back of my neck. “Penelope, can you check if their coms are still workin—shit.” Before I could finish, a long buzz of static came through the speakers. The only comprehensible words that were picked up was the beginning of my name before cutting off.

I bit my lip, pulling out the small piece of technology and tapping it a few times. “Come on... dammit.” After playing around with the earpiece, I grew frustrated with it and stuffed it into my pocket.

I paced in the small landing between the stairs, thinking of a new gameplan. I ran my fingers through the ends of my hair, feeling the split ends prick at the skin. I felt a mountain growing in at the bottom of my stomach, leaving my esophagus constricted without air. “What would Spencer do,” I mumbled to myself, gripping onto my necklace.

“Spencer...Spencer...”

Before I could finish the mantra, a shot rang out from above me, and the crashing off glass followed. In the split moment, my legs grew a mind of its own and sprinted to higher ground. Suddenly, the sweat perspiring off me turned cold, and my heartbeat slammed itself into my spinal cord as I ran. My feet forgot its exhaustion while my mind devoured every irrational thought, and combined it with adrenaline.

The single thing that drove me over my limits was knowing that the person who fabricated and would shoo away these thoughts was somewhere I didn’t know I could get to in time.

Spencer’s POV

I tiptoed into a vacant suite of the building, still antsy about the scolding I received from Morgan. The conversation after didn’t help considering it was all a reminder to be aware and focused on the task at hand. I knew Morgan was filled with the need for redemption despite the team forgiving him of his ignorance. So, I shook off the creeping feeling and abided by his instructions.

Deciding to update Y/N and Morgan about my whereabouts, I spoke into the coms only to have static come out of it. I tried once again but failed to reach anyone. The room around me shrank as a sharp exhale left my lungs. I swallowed the buildup of saliva in the back of my throat, feeling uneasy about not knowing what’s to come.

Seeing at the area was clear, I looked out of one of the windows. Initially I cringed at the accumulated dirt and grime in the glass panes, but that all dissipated when I spotted the quaint park that Y/N loved. No one else had any interest in the community lot, seeing as people would coin it—or what Y/N would tell me—the park of death. But to her, she saw the opposite as she always does.

The light feeling of reminiscing my interactions with Y/N soothed the disconcerting atmosphere, keeping me grounded. Although the sentiment ended as soon as it started when I spotted one of the apartment walls was spray-painted with black letters.

Zugzwang

A blaring shot rang out and glass shattered into the room. I ducked into the floor, shutting my eyes. My head spun as the boom impaired my hearing. The window was forcibly open, the shards resting beside me. Left disoriented, I groaned, only feeling the after wave of vibrations on the ground. However, I soon found out that the quake of the floor wasn’t from the initial shot, but the rapid clobbering of feet inching closer to the suite and a shadowy figure preceding it.

Y/N emerged from the doorframe, panting. Eyes were laced in fear while they bore into my own. My stomach twisted into knots from previous events while I contemplated what had occurred. The presence of Y/N wasn’t even strong enough to relinquish the egging feeling crawling in my skin. I anticipated Morgan to appear, considering he was closer to the scene.

Where was he?

Another thing I didn’t anticipate, a second shot.

“Spencer?”

January 3rd

Three months after

My thoughts antagonized one another while I stared out into the world from the eerily quiet apartment. The living room was cold and empty despite the array of furniture scattered about and the broken picture frames lining the walls. The vapor rising from the cup of tea drifted into the air, vanishing into nonexistence. It’s funny how that could happen in a matter of milliseconds.

The pain the lived inside the chambers of my heart was no match for the burning of skin I felt when holding onto the steaming cup. The only worthy adversary would be the rush of self-resentment that coursed through me when picking up the book. I deserved it though. I deserved the spikes through my stomach while my fingers trailed the deckled pages, reminding me of the first time I held the book, its previous owner present with me.

I would remember our time together.

I would remember the promise shared between us.

I would remember the bloodied handprint pressed against my chest.

Now all I had was the physical manifestation of what’s left: the necklace. As cruel as it was for me, I kept it in the book, using it as a bookmark while I lost myself into poems. After a while, the inked words lost their meaning to me, becoming an empty cacophony that encased the jewelry.

Every time I grasped the chain in my clutches, a numbed ache would make itself known at the pit of my stomach. It clawed at my intestines and made the entirety of my body system obsolete. With that, I was abandoned with the sinister hauntings of my own mind—a part of me that I was once praised for.

A genius. A prodigy. Hidden behind the real mess of a guilty man.

I ignored the smashed chess board and pieces that laid still at my feet, concentrating on the snowflakes that littered the park across from the building. The grounds looked beautiful, covered in layers of pure white. I sipped at the tea once more letting my mind deteriorate with a sophisticated nonchalance.

What a tragedy it was to know my soulmate, especially right under the tip of my nose. What a cruel joke life had played.

I wished I had more time.

It was easier to let the guilt consume me rather than pondering on what I lost—who I lost. Had I lost myself too? Maybe, it didn’t matter. In some masochistic way, I enjoyed the guilt because it was a way to remember that at one point someone made for me existed. I used it to relive the moments I could never get back.

All that remained was an empty shell of a man, staring out into a dull world, wondering how time took everything away from him.

taglist: @rexorangecouny @howdycharlie @honeymilk-4 @linthebinbag @andreasworlsboring101 @ssareidbby @kyleetheeditor @fanofalltheficsx @jimilogy @lulwaxim @jhillio @m3ssytrash @haylaansmi @meowiemari @ashwarren32 @codyf3rnsupremecy @goldentournesol

186 notes · View notes