#he and his friends live in an apartment with BLACK MOLD in the fucking bathroom all over the wall apparently and spiders and cockroaches

[youre-ackermine]

i'm here requesting drabble 21 of the drunk drabbles vol 2, my eVal!! take all the time you need, please and thank you ♥️🤗 can't wait to read more stuff from you 👏🏻

Hey Sunshine ☀️❤️

Thank you for requesting a drabble & sorry for the late reply!!

I had fun writing this, even if I made it more difficult for me: i'm trying to write a whole story with this Drunk Drabbles challenge.

I hope this silly work is worth the wait & that you'll enjoy it 🫶

Kith 😘

*****

English is not my usual language

*****

This drabble is the 3rd part of a story. Links to part 1 Dumbstruck & part 2 Night Out.

Drabble prompt 21 "Shut up, you're drunk!"

Flushing

Characters: Levi Ackerman / Hange Zoe / Nanaba

Wordcount: 1920 approx.

Modern AU / sfw / non-binary Hange / cussing / alcohol / drunkenness / vomiting

"How come you haven't tripped & died under a pile of shit yet?"

Levi was winding his way to Hange's bathroom while they searched the wobbling shelf next to their desk. 

He wrinkled his nose in disgust.

The room was filled with stale air. The tiling had obviously not seen a mop in ages judging by how sticky it was. Dirty dishes had been left in the sink and stained clothes were slung all over the place. Countless books were randomly piled up on the floor and on the coffee table next to what had once been food - or so he hoped.

Hange's tiny apartment was an absolute nightmare and he wondered how they could live in such a pigsty. He broke into a cold sweat thinking about using their toilet but he couldn't wait any longer. Fucking beer always made him pee like crazy.

"Did you know that when we wee, we wee enough wee every month to fill a bath?! Awesome! Right, Shorty?"

Hange's boisterous voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Oh and, spread across their lifetime, most people spend an average of one whole year sitting on the toilet!"

He rolled his eyes as expected of him, but he couldn't help but smirk at the silly science facts they never failed to slip into the conversation.

"Pipe down, Four-Eyes! I'm gonna pee my pants listening to your stupid bullshit!"

He hurried to the bathroom, pushed and closed the door in a brisk movement, but suddenly froze and let out an annoyed grunt realizing he couldn't lock it.

He glanced around only to find his worst fears come true: the bathroom set out an advanced stage of filthiness and the toilet bowl was covered in brown stains, not to mention the traces of black mold on the walls. Yuck! Calling it revolting was an understatement at this point.

Shit! No time to delay now, he had to settle for that. He unbuckled his belt in a hurry and pulled his pants and underwear down in one motion.

Nothing could compare to the relief he felt right now, his eyelids half-closed with satisfaction.

The job was almost done when the clatter broke next door. Someone wasn't careful enough not to stumble over Hange's junk heap it seemed.

A high-pitched voice suddenly cut through the uproar.

"Hans! Bestie! You heeere? Wh-why? Whot happen't wizch the s-seggzy sh-short stufff? Wh-where'z he iz?"

Hange's neighbour, Nanaba.

"Holy Walls, Nans! Shut up, you're drunk!" Hange replied in a voice tinged with panic. They hoped Levi didn't hear their friend's ramblings. "Don't go to the bathroom, it's…"

"Need a con-" the blonde yelled. "How d'ya say it? Sh-sh-shit!" she mumbled. "A condom!" she resumed yelling more intelligibly. "I need a fucking condom right now!"

"...occupied!" Hange finished their sentence.

A bit too late though: Nanaba just opened the bathroom door.

"Oh!" Her eyes widened in shock. "He…he'zz heere Hans, ya know?" she squealed over her shoulder, one hand still on the doorknob, the other gripping the doorframe to prevent herself from falling down.

Levi was looking back at her, his hands covered in foaming soap over the washbasin and a smug plastered on his handsome face.

"Good evening to you too, Nana!" he sneered. "Big one tonight, huh? Looks like you dished booze out large, didn't you?"

"Hi Munchkin!" she cooed, "ya alone in heere? Yer sssooo prrre-tty, ya know zzatt?"

She tried to wink at him but closed both eyes instead.

"Never thought you were the flirty type of drunk, Nana."

"Don-don't be ridi-ridiculush! 'm not that drunk, ya know! 'lways found ya prett-tty face sssooo cute, ya know, but Hans, well, ya know right?"

"Holy shit you're so hammered, Nana!" Levi rinsed the soap off his hands and looked around for a towel to wipe his dripping hands. To his dismay, there was none. 

Nanaba's legs suddenly gave way beneath her and two strong - but still wet - hands pulled her to safety on the toilet seat. She bobbed her head and started to sob.

"Oh Levi, 'm sssooo sssooorrry! I ruined your da-date wizzss Hans! Ooooh my head!" 

Tears welled up in her eyes and she clung on to Levi for dear life. Fuck! 

"Come over here, Four-Eyes!" he shouted. "Need your help for fuck's sake!"

He kneeled in front of the poor girl, wiping the tears that rolled down her cheeks and swept her blonde bang from her sweaty face. His eyebrows furrowed in worry.

"Please don't move Nana, ok?" he said softly.

He got up, making sure to keep a hand on her shoulder, and groped for some painkillers in the cupboard.

"Bring a clean glass too, Four-Eyes!" he yelled. "Well, if you can find one in this shithole I mean!"

Nanaba burst into tears and uttered in between sobs: "ya know they 've a crrrush, right? 'lways had, ya know? 'm speak'n' of years 'n years!"

Shit! Levi was confused and a little bit angry to hear that. He started to review all possible candidates in his head and his disappointment gradually showed on his sad face.

Nanaba instantly figured out what was on his mind and added in a breath "I meant ya, Sweetie! Hans'z got a crrrush 'n ya!"

She giggled.

Levi felt a sudden heat rushing up to his face and ears, his heart skipping a beat and then pounding loudly in his chest, his mouth drying as he tried to gulp.

He took a deep breath to try and regain composure.

"Yer zzze cu-test cutie pie, all flust'ed 'n' shiiitt!" she said with a gentle smile that was soon covered by her hand, her eyes widened in silent panic. "Gonna puke!" she blurted out as she slightly leaned forward to try and get up.

Unfortunately, she had not time enough to turn to the toilet and painted Levi's clothes with a foul greenish liquid before he could escape the vomit trajectory.

That's when Hange finally hurried into the bathroom, a glass of water in one hand, the fingers of the other hand folded on what looked like a tiny piece of plastic.

"Nooo! I'm so so sorry Shorty! Nanaba threw up all over you!" they apologized.

"No shit, Four-Eyes!" Levi deadpanned, rolling his eyes in irritation. "Pass Nana the glass of water and try and find a fucking mop!"

"On it, Shorty! I think I have one somewhere…" they replied.

Hange ran out of the bathroom. Levi and Nanaba could hear them searching the main room, cursing every once in a while as they bumped into a piece of furniture or dropped something from their messy shit.

Unbelievable.

Levi stepped back and started to take off his wet shirt, wrinkling his nose at the stomach-churning smell. Luckily his pants had been spared but the shirt was definitely ruined. He let out a long sigh as he crumpled it into a ball and looked at Nanaba.

She was drinking water slowly not to gag, her eyes and nose reddened, tiredness showing on her pale face. She looked back at him and smiled faintly.

"Thank you so much for taking care of me, Levi," she said, almost in a whisper.

Getting rid of her stomach contents had brought her usual elocution back. "You're so sweet, Shortcakes, you know that? No wonder Hange's so in lo-".

All messy hair and sweaty face, Hange loudly barged into the bathroom before Nanaba could finish her sentence, brandishing a broom and a sullied floor cloth.

"Got it!" they beamed.

Stopped in their tracks by the awkward atmosphere filling the narrow place, their look went back and forth from Nanaba's dazed expression to Levi's flushed face a few times before their eyes lingered on Levi's bare chest, making him flush even harder and avert his gaze.

Nanaba cleared her throat.

"Ahem, well, this is not what you…" she started.

Hange didn't let her finish.

"Sorry to interrupt but here's stuff to clean the mess or whatever…" she said, handing said stuff over to Levi with a grin. "I still didn't find all of my lab notes, I have to rummage in my drawers a little more I'm afraid!" 

Grasping the mop and bucket from them, he stammered: "whe-wher-...my…my sh-shirt's soaking wet and stinks like hell's butt…d'you…do…do you…where…"

Fucking hell! He felt so stupid!

"Plastic bags in the drawer over there, Shorty!" They gestured casually towards the washbasin.

"Come on with me, Nans! We're putting you to bed, you must be exhausted Bestie, right?"

They gently took Nanaba's hand and dragged her out of the bathroom.

"You take my bed for the night! No no no don't argue with me! We planned that I sleep over at Levi's anyway, I must be at my lab early in the morning!" they added in a falsely cheerful tone that fooled no one.

Nanaba knew better than to protest and followed her best friend to their tiny, cluttered bedroom. She jumped on the mattress and slid under sullied sheets that had not seen the inside of a washing machine for some time. But she was too tired to even care.

As Hange leaned down to tuck her in and gently graze her forehead, Nanaba wrapped her fingers around their wrist to catch their attention.

"Hey, Hans!" she whispered. "You mad? Your smile shouts 'fake' so loud it's ridiculous and you look like shit!"

"Well…I'm not mad, not really… rather…sad I guess…"

They sat on the edge of the bed, bowed their head in a dejected manner, their joined hands resting on their lap. 

"But don't even think about me, you must take some rest!" they insisted.

"Ok, something's wrong here, you must listen to me! Nothing happened over there between us, ya know?! Shortcakes just took care of me and got rid of his stinky shirt after that, that's all!" she stated lively.

Hange looked up at her, their eyes lit up with a hint of hope.

After a pause, their roommate bowed her head and tentatively went on: "I…I may have screwed up…I'm…I'm sorry, I…I may have told Levi you like him."

"Holy shit, Nans! You what??" Hange blurted out. "Why did you do that? I thought we were friends, I trusted you! You were not supposed to tell him! Or anyone else by the way!"

They grazed their hand over their face, pinched the bridge of their nose and let out a long sigh.

"How am I supposed to spend the rest of the evening with Shorty as if nothing weird is hanging over us? Fuck! I'm so fucked!"

"Please, Hans, forgive me! I didn't intend to tell him! It just slipped out! Come on, Hans! It's not like he had been disgusted by the idea, ya know!"

"What do you mean?" Hange asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I'm pretty sure he blushed like a teenager! I bet he likes you back!" Nanaba clapped her hands in excitement. "I think you'll find a good way to use this latex thingy that's in your hand!" she added with a wink.

"Holy Walls! What do you mean?" Hange quickly shoved the infamous item in their pocket.

"Doesn't make things any less weird, Nans!" They frowned as they paused to think for a while.

"Well, I'll try to figure out how to behave around him. Maybe he didn't believe you?" they replied, their voice full of a deceptive hope. "You were practically dead drunk after all!"

"What? I was not that drunk! I still have pants on, you see?" She defended herself.

"Oh Sweetie…" Hange said gently.

"What?"

"Those are not your pants!"

*****

Thank you so much Terra my Darling @dont-f-with-moogles for beta reading & for your support 😘

#levi ackerman #hange zoe #nanaba #levi x hange #levihan #levihan drabble #aot drabble #snk drabble #drabble challenge #nb!hange #levi x nb!hange #lovely moots 💕 #krikkit 🫂💜🫂💜 #aka sunshine 🌞 #val writes ✍️ #tw alcohol #tw drinking #tw drunk #tw drunkenness #tw cursing #tw vomit #tw vomiting #squad denial

[demonicpiano]

A Sock for Your Dilemma

Written for @rusengweek2023, Free Day! Wahoo!

Includes demon summoning, bad ideas, and a need for knitting. Available on Tumblr and/or AO3.

Ivan had about three seconds before the black smoke cleared and the human-esque figure now standing in his living room prattled off, “My name is Arthur.  Reason for summoning and what are you offering?”

“Uh,” was the first thing Ivan said. He sat on his living room couch, leaning over the coffee table with his hands lifting from a drawing made with suspicious red on a piece of paper. Tall horns, tail tip twitching, hands on his hips—Ivan quietly bemoaned the creature staring dully and expectantly at him, “Oh no, it worked.”

“What worked? This better not be another prank! I had four this week already!”

“No! No prank!” Ivan shot to his feet, almost tripping on the coffee table as Arthur charged a few steps forward. “I just! Ah,” he glanced around the table, nothing foretelling but a half bottle left of wine. It didn’t do much. So he thought. “I…dont know.”

“You don’t know. You summoned a demon and you don’t know why.”

“Sorry,” Ivan said. “My bad.”

Surprisingly, the demon only huffed, puffed, and sighed. “Ugh. I suppose it wouldn’t be the first time. Fine. I’m here already. Let’s negotiate.”

“Negotiate?”

“About what you want.”

Ivan sank back onto the edge of his couch, staring up at Arthur.

“You somebody managed to get my number. There's some part of you that wondered if it was legitimate enough to try, yeah?"

"No, I don't think so," Ivan told him. "It's bad idea to negotiate with demons."

"Then why even try summoning one in the first place!" Before Ivan could 'I don't know' again, Arthur made an offended noise and turned away. He wandered around the living room, which was only a tight circle, sniffing at nothing in particular and his tail flicking.

Truly, Ivan didn't know. He hadn't been expecting guests that night. Demonic or not. It was just some silly paper his sister had stuffed in the mail. Maybe that was the prank.

"What the fuck is this!" Arthur turned to Ivan, pointing at a photo frame on the wall. "Is that a sock?!"

"I—yes? Have you ever seen socks before?”

“Not in a frame for pictures and paintings!”

“It's the first one I ever knitted. So I framed it. Safekeeping.”

Arthur looked at the frame. Looked to Ivan. Looked to the frame again. He harrumphed and continued onward, gesturing at a picture between the two windows facing the rich view of an alley, one of a morose clown. "And this thing! What the hell is that thing. It's creepy." He continued around Ivan's apartment, snuffing and snorting over anything he deemed extraneous and odd. Again, coming from a demon.

Didn’t every and any piece of literature and religion screech over these creatures? But it was so absurd. A demon. Snooping around his kitchenette, sans fireballs and tortuous screaming. Ivan may have been a bit underwhelmed, if it were honest to himself. Arthur seemed like an ordinary man that came out of a gay bar on Halloween night. Maybe it was all according to plan, to dismay the victim, then spring hellhounds and annoying pop music when they least expect it. Ivan rocked to himself on his couch, petting down his scarf as he stared at the sheet of paper on the table. Mildly worrisome. The mold growing in the bathroom pipes was probably worse in the long run, though.

Arthur stopped just on the other side of the coffee table again with fists on his waist. Ivan looked up at the horns again and tucked his face into his scarf to snicker.

"Oi. You brought me here, remember? I don't like wasting time, so I'm not leaving without a deal. If you need a friend, I will make you one. If you need a lover, I will make you one. If you want a plane ticket back to your sisters, it will be done."

"How do you know about all that?"

"It's my job."

Ivan decided not to question it. "Ah. So you are every kind of man."

"Aye. That’s right. Any and every sort you need me to be."

Ivan made a thoughtful noise. He shook his head. "I don't feel like giving up my soul today."

"You don't have to. We perform deals to a far lesser extent all the time."

"But I get lesser asking."

"Naturally."

Ivan thought again. He shook his head again. "No, it's bad idea."

"You give grocery clerks money for food. You give your car petrol so it can give you distance. Your entire life already revolves around deals and trade-offs. Think about it!"

"I am thinking! It's still bad idea!"

"Okay and?! Humans make bad ideas all the time."

"That's...not the good selling point."

"Well, it's true, innit?"

Ivan sighed to himself, but made sure it was loud enough for Arthur to hear. If there was no other way to get this demon out of his home besides striking a deal, maybe the smallest, most affordable deal wouldn’t be so bad. It was either that or start smacking the demon on his head, but that wasn’t a good idea either, even if a lead pipe, for example, would make good music between those horns.

Maybe Arthur could snap away the mold in the pipes. Or grant him a new cooking set, one that wasn’t dinged up and flaking. Or  new shoes that wouldn’t get wet in the snow, or…

Arthur gave him a curious look, one that sent a blush through Ivan’s face from the knowingness of it all. 

"How much would...it cost to have someone to talk to for the night?"

"You do understand what sort of entity I am, right? Ask for something better."

“I see. I cannot even pay a hell-creature to spend time with me.”

"I-I didn't say that! I'm just saying if you had one opportunity to ask for anything, why go for something so..."

Ivan frowned.

"Anticlimactic, really."

"Because you said big deals need big payments!"

"And what do you have to lose? You're two payments behind in a rundown flat. I can give you riches. I can make the world love you. I can give you friends. Endless vacations. Endless ecstasy!"

Ivan hunched up his shoulders and made a few uncertain noises.

Arthur was at his side, breaching the couch in a heartbeat. "Your shame. Your guilt. I can take them all away."

Ivan leaned back, pinching his scarf to his mouth to protest, "Then you will chew me and eat me!"

"You might like it!"

"Oh, no. Oh, no, that's more bad ideas."

A short sigh. Arthur resigned to whisk around the coffee table again and back, the tip of his tail irked and twitching. "Fine!" He finally said, still going back and forth. "I suppose since this is your first time, I'll go easy on you. But only because of that! This is business, after all. You want me to sit down and have a little chit chat through the night, then we will." He finally stopped, whirling on Ivan. "I won't take your soul over such a puny request, but I expect payment nonetheless for my time!" He pointed behind himself. "I will accept that!"

Ivan glanced at nothing there, then Arthur, then the nothing again, until he realized it was the photo frame on the wall. "You want a sock?"

"It's something meaningful to you, isn't it?"

"I could just...make you one."

"But that doesn't have the same emotional satisfaction to it!"

"It doesn't?"

"Well!" Arthur's hand fell to his side with a huffy sigh. "What sort of sock are we talking here?"

"Oh!" Ivan leaned down and brought out a wicker basket of yarn and needles from beneath the coffee table. "Any sock! I have good yarn."

"Aaaand that's probably where all your income goes."

"No, that's-" Ivan blushed. "Okay maybe a little true." Arthur raised a brow, in which he glanced away.

"Two socks, as I have two feet, after all. And my end will entail spending time with you in any way however long it takes to make them. Does that strike your fancy?"

Ivan peeked up at him. “You wouldn’t take my soul afterwards?”

Arthur rolled his eyes and slighted back, crossing his arms. “Look, I know my marks when I see them. I can go somewhere else to get that if I must.”

“But you can get socks somewhere else, too-“

“Not like this, okay?! Are you going to make them or not?”

“You cannot make socks? Maybe I can teach you instead, that will be good payment, yes?”

“Erm, well. Yes. But. I’m afraid that won’t be possible. I’m fine with you making them for me, really.”

“Is it because of the claws?”

“No. We’re cursed. Our little departing gift from Heaven, I suppose. Can’t make anything from our own creation. It withers and rots away in our hands.” Begrudgingly, “So we get others to do that for us.”

“Ah, and most people do not do it for demons.”

"Right, right."

The living room fell quiet. Such a thing must have been a bruise to Arthur's hellish pride.

A sock. Two socks. Two measly little socks. What harm was this? Ivan stroked through his scarf with the image in his mind of demonic toes wedging into a cracked door, or some idiom like that.

“Okay," he carefully said. "We can have a deal.”

The pleasure erupted across Arthur's features, shoulders straightened, his tail gave a singular flick. "A deal it is, then. Pleasure doing business and all that. We'll just need a kiss to seal it."

Of course. "Okay."

"With tongue."

Ivan furrowed his brow. "No."

Arthur laughed. "I'm taking the piss out of you." He held out a palm, making a beckoning motion. "Just a drop of your blood and we're gold, luv."

Maybe they should have gone with the kiss instead. "On your hand?"

"No, give me your hand. Just a little prick."

"Just how you are a little demon?"

Arthur lightly snorted, smiling almost. "Maybe to you." Another beckon. It was almost gentle. Maybe impatient.

Maybe demons hankered for dusty, boring old souls. He smiled, shy over something goofy like putting his hand onto Arthur's palm. It wouldn't be good. Every part of him knew that. Very warm, though. Of course he dwarfed the creature, but—Arthur leaned forward, lifting their hands to his face and stared right at him as he pressed his lips to Ivan's knuckles. A being quick and sly and holding him far more confidently than he could handle; yes, a very not-good idea indeed.

"If we misbehave," nothing but green, green eyes and soft lips on his skin, "it's bad for business, yeah?"

Arthur kept staring. Waiting. Neck, ears, cheeks, all red. Ivan nodded. Bad, bad, bad.

Just socks. Just yarn and string and a demon.

With a corner of his lips curling up, Arthur glanced down and sank a claw into Ivan's fingertip. A droplet fell onto the page with the sigil on it. Ivan tried to let out that shaky breath as quietly as possible. A pinch and cut were always worse when it was expected, but just a pinch, nonetheless. Arthur smudged his thumb over the cut and let go of Ivan's hand, poking into his own to drop a few more on the paper. Dark creature. Dark blood. Ivan instinctively put his finger to his mouth, gawking as the scrawls on the page shifted and swirled before his eyes, blending with the blood. He jumped, leaning back as they lifted in a grain of dark scarlet to Arthur's waiting hand, and ran up his skin and settled like a snake around his neck. Just a thin outline of whatever words they were, but Ivan knew where they settled, therefore could see them.

Magic? Science? An act of godlessness, right there in Ivan's crummy living room. Arthur's smirk split into a smile and sharp teeth. Just socks. Just knitting.

"From this moment until you're done, whatever you want. I'm yours."

.

#rusengweek2023 #THE SIN BIN #hetalia #hetalia fic #hws RusEng #RusEng

[chimeras-love]

tear away at the mask

Pairing: Zack de la Rocha/GN!Reader

Summary: you go to zacks house after promising to help him with some songwriting, but soft glances and softer touches lead to feelings that spill over

Tags: Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Making Out, No Use of [Y/N], Gender Neutral Reader (No Pronouns + Readers Appearance is Not Mentioned), Drabble, One-Shot

Warnings: Light Sexual Content

A/N: this takes place around the early years of RATM, in 1992 when zack is around 20-ish

Word Count: 2.5k (not kidding it's exactly 2,500 lmao)

"So, how was it?"

Zack sat on the living room floor of his studio apartment, surrounded by scattered wide-ruled paper hastily stacked into vaguely organized piles. Some completely filled with writing, others with a word or two that had apparently not been good enough to elicit anything more.

Nothing particularly out of the ordinary. It fit the character, added a bit more charm. The kind found in the graffiti-scrawled bathroom of a local music venue; where the beer tastes like piss, and people are packed into a 600 square foot room like sardines to a tin. In the living room, which by the nature of studios was also his bedroom, a CRT TV stood atop a weathered black shelf. The neck of an all white Jackson guitar leaned against it, strings uncut. CDs lined along the inside, sorted alphabetically by artist and chronologically by album. A few feet in front of it, a coffee table stacked with all types of memorabilia— tour posters that there simply wasn't any room for on the walls, a used plastic bag from the corner store down the street, and empty mugs and plates you'd both been periodically stacking throughout the day. His couch laid back against the wall.

Which is where you were. You sat adjacent to him, cross legged on the sofa, watching as he absentmindedly drummed his pencil on a legal pad. The lead made small dots where it landed. This page was one of the luckier ones; nearly full of his messy handwriting. Lyrics had been written—and rewritten—down as they came to him. Certain verses were circled while others underlined, some crossed out altogether. To anyone else it looked like jumbled nonsense, but it made sense to Zack (and you, to a certain extent).

"Hey," Zack called your name, waving his hand in front of your face.

"Huh?" You blinked, completely forgetting what he'd asked for a second. "Oh, it was good! I liked it."

"That's it?" Zack asked, a blank sort of 'are you serious' expression plastered on his face as he scanned over the paper. "Just liked it?"

"Hey, that's a good thing isn't it?"

"I need people to do more than 'like' my music, you know." His eyes stayed glued to the paper as he spoke.

"I, uh, loved it?"

Zack stopped, hung his head and smiled to himself.

"You're no help at all."

"Hey! You asked me to help, so it's kind of your fault."

It wasn't a lie. He'd invited you over earlier in the evening, when the sun first began to dip below the L.A. city skyline, and shadows elongated with every passing second. You liked to think of yourself as his personal editor, although truthfully you acted as more of a thesaurus. You didn't mind. You considered yourself lucky to see him in this state. Baggy tee and sweats, surrounded by a concoction of his own thoughts. Writing surged through his veins and kept him breathing, and he excelled at it. You'd seen enough of his shows to know. As if a switch flipped in his brain, his persona molded into one of a lyrical guerrilla.

Molded was the wrong word— molded implies copying something, participating in some semblance of meaningless idolatry. He hadn't molded himself into anything. He already was that ungovernable force, it just took a stage to coax it out.

"What time is it?" Zack asked.

"Almost two."

"Fuck me," he sighed and set down his pencil. He raised his arms above his head and stretched; his t-shirt raised with his movement. You caught a glimpse of the small bit of skin that exposed itself.

'How terrible,' you thought, 'falling for your best friend like this.'

Zack finished stretching, and you quickly averted your eyes. He paused for a second, and tilted his head slightly.

Fuck.

"I- uh, I think the song could use a bridge," you deflected.

"...A bridge?"

"Yeah, you know, something there to contrast the verses."

"I know what a bridge is." He picked his pencil back up. "I mean, where would I put it? The song is basically done. If I put it after one of the verses it'll fuck up the flow."

"Put it at the end...?" You replied, although the infliction of your voice made it into more of a question.

"So, the outro?"

"I don't know! Whatever you want to call it, I just feel like it could work." You waited for Zack to make some dry sarcastic quip, but he was back to his notes. You could've distracted him from a car crash with the way he got lost in music, especially his own.

His hands worked quickly. You couldn't make out what he was writing, but you could see they weren't full sentences. More like standalone words, and something near the bottom that seemed to repeat.

"Alright, what about this?" Zack handed the notepad to you.

You skimmed the page, and read the final stanza.

"All of which are American dreams," you whispered, nearly inaudibly.

You looked up at Zack. He folded his arms, hunched ever so slightly, drawing his eyes from the paper to your own.

"It's, uh..." You couldn't contain the stupid smile that plastered your face. "It's perfect."

Zack's face lit up, letting out a relieved 'fuck yes!' Before getting up to envelope you in a bone-crushing hug, that lifted you quite a few inches off of your seat. You could barely get your arms back around him with how tightly he held you, chest pressed around you and arms awkwardly offset from yours (one under, one over). His scent wrapped around you like he did. It clung to your senses; days old cologne, and something else you couldn't quite pinpoint.

If you knew such accidental advice worked this well, you would've done it a long time ago.

Zack let go, still beaming with pride. You handed his notepad back to him, with the slightest crinkle where you held it.

"That's the only other song I needed done. It's finally ready for the studio tomorrow."

You were about to congratulate him, but the last part of his statement tripped you up a bit. 

"Tomorrow?" Your eyes narrowed. "You waited until the day before you were supposed to be in the studio to finish writing this song?"

"Yeah, I-I guess." He averted his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck.

"What were you planning on doing if you didn't finish it?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, "probably just postpone the recording date until I finished."

"Are you allowed to do that?"

"Well..." He trailed off, then shook his head. "What are you, my mom?"

"Alright, alright, fine, I'll back off," you sighed. "What studio is it, exactly?"

"Sound City. It's like 40 minutes from here, somewhere off of I-101." He gestured down the street, although you didn't know if that was truly the direction or whether he simply pointed that way to articulate his point.

You stared blankly. "I've never heard of it."

"You're messing with me, right?" Johnny Cash, Elton John...?"

"You expect me, a regular person, to know where Elton John records his music?"

"Alright, fair point... You know," he began, "you can come with me to the studio tomorrow. Check it out." 

"Really? I'm not gonna be, like, a distraction or anything?"

"Maybe..." He teased. "But I won't mind, and I don't think the guys'll mind either."

You tried your best to hide the smile threatening to give away your feelings. You cleared your throat, trying to play it cool. Trying, and failing.

"Alright." You shook Zack's hand in a sarcastic over-the-top manner. "It's a date."

"A date," he agreed, and then yawned. "Man, we've been sitting here for, what, three hours now?"

"Just about... Fuck me." You fell back onto the couch, head pointed to the ceiling. Zack sat next to you. "I'm gonna pass out here."

"You alright with me putting something on the TV?" Zack asked, turning his head slightly to just barely face you.

"Go for it."

"It's not gonna keep you up?"

"It will, but I don't mind." You held your hand to your temple, shielding your eyes from the overhead light. "As long as I don't have to use my brain for anything, I'll be good."

"Probably not a first," he joked.

"Excuse me." You played along, letting out a scoff. "Who finished your song for you?"

He shrugged. "I would've come up with it eventually."

"Because you were doing so well on your own."

"I was, I just needed you here for moral support."

"And moral support deserves writing credits." You quipped back.

He shook his head. "Please, you weren't even paying attention half the time."

"Like when?"

"When you were gawking at me."

"I-I," you stumbled, "I was not gawking. I barely even glanced."

"Seemed like a pretty long glance to me." He grabbed the remote off of the table. Somehow he made something as simple as turning on the TV into a cocky display of victory.

"Okay, haha, very funny, you got me." You threw your hands up in a sarcastic surrender.

"It's alright, you don't have to be embarrassed. I understand"  — he held his hand to his chest — "that I'm too fuckin' irresistible."

You rolled your eyes. "Sure, whatever," you scoffed.

You turned your attention back to the T.V.; a godsend, surely. The temperature in the room seemed to skyrocket, as your heart beat out of your chest. You fumbled with the bottom hem of your shirt, trying any self-soothing techniques your brain thought of.

"What's on?" You asked.

"Some bullshit F.B.I. show," he replied. "Nothing else on is any good, unless you'd rather watch the home shopping network."

"Copaganda'll work just fine, thanks."

Zack laughed. You adored that laugh. The way the corners of his eyes crinkled, how broad all of his smiles were. Anytime he laughed, it reminded you of all of the things you loved about him— It made you fucking melt. 

"Man, they have a million of these damn shows." Zack said, bewildered.

"Probably for psychos who stay up writing song lyrics until two in the morning."

"Shit, I guess there's a market for everything."

The show continued as you settled into your spot, resting your head on Zack's shoulder. A bold move, absolutely, but he didn't mind. At least, he didn't seem to.

Despite lacking blankets, pillows, or pretty much anything to keep someone comfortable watching a show, it was the most relaxed you'd felt in a while. The rhythmic breathing of not just you, but Zack was tranquil. All in the midst of the busiest city in California. Ironic.

So whilst your eyelids got heavier, and your breathing became more mellow, you found yourself drifting off into a calm sleep.

***

"Hey, you awake?"

Zack shook your shoulder lightly. You stirred, your eyes blinking open slowly.

"The, uh, show's over," he spoke, voice barely higher than a whisper. He really didn't have to say it, considering the hum of the T.V. static was the only sound that you could hear. That, and the occasional passing of a car.

"Already?" You groaned, raising your arms in a deep and relieving stretch. "Fuck, I really don't want to move anywhere."

"We don't have to," he shrugged. "We can just stay like this. Talk or something."

"Sounds nice."

Only, neither of you knew what to talk about. For the first time in the entirety of your friendship, you had absolutely nothing to say. Nothing at all. At least nothing you wanted to admit in the early, early morning of a nearing Los Angeles dawn.

"Can I ask you something?" Zack asked, breaking the silence.

So much for nothing to talk about.

"Yeah, sure," you replied.

"I know I was fucking with you earlier, but I just wanted to know if... if you actually thought I was any good-looking."

"...You're seriously asking me that?"

Zack furrowed his brow, about to counter your question, but stopped. He shook his head. "No, you're right. It was a self-involved question."

Fuck. You hadn't meant to sound antagonistic, but the nature of his question was all but naive. It... caught you off guard, to say the least.

"N-no! It," you sighed, "it's not, it's just..."

Zacks arms crossed over his chest. Well, they'd actually been like that for a while, you just hadn't noticed prior. You had now, and you also noticed how he tapped his fingers rhythmically against his opposing upper arm; awaiting your response.

"You're... you just..." You tried to speak, but each time you fell short of a full sentence. "Christ, why is this so fucking hard to say?!" You huffed. "You're... beautiful."

"... Really?" He asked (rather doubtfully).

"Yes!" You let out. "I mean, god, you're probably the most attractive person I know."

Zack laughed, a mix of relief and nerves at the implications of your sentence. "Shit, I don't know what to say. You're... you're pretty beautiful too."

"You know you don't have to say it if you don't mean it." You laughed, dismissively.

"What makes you think I don't mean it?"

"You used the exact same phrase I used, after I told you..."  You fidgeted with your fingernails. "...and you paused."

"That doesn't mean I didn't mean it."

"Doesn't it?" You narrowed your eyes.

"Alright," he sat up in his seat and turned towards you. "What if I could convince you I wasn't just bullshitting?"

"You can try," you huffed, and turned your head to the side.

Zack reached to hold the side of your face gently in his palm, and guided you to face him. Your skin was flush in his hand. Your breath hitched in your throat as you did your best to avoid his gaze.

"Hey," he spoke softly, as if reading your thoughts, "look up."

You did as he asked, hesitantly, and before you could meet his eyes he locked you into a kiss. You froze; your world completely turned in on itself, and your mind raced with a million thoughts all crossing you at the same time. As much as you wanted to pull away and give a disheartened lecture on the state of your friendship, all you could think of was how good his lips felt on your own. All of the convincing you needed.

His open hand rested on your thigh, while your hands made their way to his locs. The kiss deepened, as Zack started to loom over you. Your back hit the arm of the couch, suddenly, which managed to make you gasp. A gasp that he took full advantage of. A small moan left your lips, muffled by his own. As much as you wanted to make out with him until you suffocated, you didn't think dying was a particularly smart idea.

You pulled back for a breath of air, and rested your forehead on his; your heavy breathing both synchronized. You stayed like this for a while, not saying anything, until Zack broke the silence.

"So, uh... believe me yet?"

hope you enjoyed !! the ending is kinda rushed a bit, ive been sitting on this fic for ages and finally found the motivation to finish it so i hope you enjoy :>> and if there's any grammatical mistakes i missed, uh, oopsies :p

#zack de la rocha x reader #zdlr x reader #rage against the machine x reader #ratm x reader #band imagines #real person fiction #rpf #fanfiction

[theringers]

addicted - charles leclerc

summary: you and charles have broken up but an unexpected reconciliation and jealousy leads to some fun

request: Can you do Prompt 100 with Charles? ❤️🥺

prompt: 100) "Call me selfish, but I don't ever want anyone else to touch you."

warnings: NSFW, 18+, sex, public sex lmao shocker

The music blared out of your speaker as you danced around your bathroom. Your apartment had been quiet for days now, something you definitely weren’t used to.

It had been a few weeks since Charles moved out of your shared apartment. It was an emotional breakup, but something that you both eventually decided was best for the two of you.

“I want this to work more than anything, but I think it’s best if we spend some time apart.” You said between tears.

“I don’t want to be apart from you. I love you.”

“I love you too, but this is what we need.”

“If this is going to make you happiest, this is what I want too.”

You recalled the conversation between you two but quickly pushed it out of your mind and focused on your plans tonight.

It was a Friday night and all of your friends were either out of town or busy, but you wanted to have a fun night. You sent a text to a coworker and decided to meet him out at a restaurant downtown.

It was hot and humid and the outdoor restaurant was making your cheeks turn red. Your coworker had gone to the bar to get you two drinks.

“Hey, how have you been?” He asked when he returned.

“I’ve been doing okay,” you hesitated a bit. “Charles and I broke up a few weeks ago and this is my first time coming out since.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. How are you doing?” He was obviously shocked. You and Charles had been together for years.

“I’m doing okay. We needed time apart, it’s just weird getting used to being alone.” You took a sip of your glass of wine and looked around. So many people were on dates tonight.

“I totally understand that. I’m here for you, whatever you need.” He smiled at you.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

You conversed and decided to order some small plates for dinner. It was refreshing to have the company of someone new, even though you missed Charles immensely.

“No fucking way,” you said as a salad leaf almost fell out of your mouth.

“What’s wrong?”

Your eyes focused on the couple a few tables away. “Charles is here, on a date I think?”

“Oh no, we can go somewhere else if it would make you more comfortable.” Your coworker got flustered, trying to make sure you felt okay. His kindness was not overlooked.

“No, it’s okay. This was bound to happen. We live in the same town, a small one at that.” You continued to eat your salad hoping to find something else to get your mind off of this awkward situation.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded and shoved your fork in your mouth laughing. Just your luck.

Charles got up from his table and headed towards the bathroom inside. He was wearing your favorite shorts of his and a black top. You loved when he wore black because it complimented his skin and eyes perfectly. The thought of him dressing up like this for someone else hurt.

“I have to use the restroom, excuse me,” you said scooting out of your chair. Your date nodded and smiled.

You picked up your pace so you could catch him inside. Luckily you did, right before he reached the bathroom door. “Charles.”

He turned around confused, saying your name in response to his. “What are you doing here?” He asked.

“Same thing you are.” He nodded. “I couldn’t let the night go by without saying anything.”

You admired his body, once again. Your favorite outfit of his. For someone else. Ouch.

“I hope you’re doing well,” he said.

“I’m doing the best I can. Same to you.” You both danced around what you really wanted to talk about.

“Who’s the guy?” He asked.

“A friend from work. We’re just here getting drinks.”

He nodded. “I saw you the moment I sat down but I didn’t want to bother you. You seemed happy.” The sadness in his eyes was evident.

“I’m having a good time. That doesn’t mean I don’t miss you.”

Servers were using the hallway to get back and forth to the kitchen. “Can we talk in here? Somewhere a little more private?” He motioned for the bathroom.

You crossed your arms as you leaned against the door. “Who is the girl?”

“To be honest, I don’t know her at all. She’s a cousin of a friend. He thought I should try to get my mind off of things.” Well that was a bit of a relief.

He stared at you. “You look really beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you. You look pretty good yourself.” You smiled at him, remembering how much he loved a good compliment.

He took a deep breath in. “I want to be supportive and let you do you, but it’s killing me to see you out with someone else.” You looked at him with sad eyes and felt a chill from the cold air conditioning. “And I’m sorry, I know this isn’t what you need to hear right now. But it’s how I feel and we promised to be more honest with each other.”

You looked at his lips and the years you spent kissing them all came back to you. You wanted to pounce on him and feel his body move with yours but you made a promise to yourself. You needed time alone.

"I love you, Charles, I really do-" he cut you off with his lips, practically reading your mind.

"Don't say another word please." It felt so normal, how could you object?

Your bodies molded together the way they always did. You were meant for each other. His fingers tangled in your hair and his warm kisses felt like home.

He pulled away from you, his hands still in your hair. His eyes took in your body and he bit his lip. "Call me selfish, but I don't ever want anyone else to touch you."

His hands moved down your body, taking in the feeling. "Just me."

He kissed your neck and left sloppy desperate kisses along your collarbone, causing your head to fall back against the door.

He flipped your body around and you could feel his growing bulge against your ass.

His fingers trailed under your dress and went inside of you, warming you up for him. You let out a soft moan, remembering what his fingers felt like.

He wasted no time by undoing his shorts and guiding himself inside of you. You moaned at the full feeling. His hands gripped your hips and rocked you back and forth on his cock. "Jesus," he said, trying to keep the noise to a minimum.

"Would that guy out there make you feel like this?" He asked you.

You responded in between moans. "No." You always loved his jealous side because amazing sex followed, but this was nothing like you had ever experienced before. You weren’t his anymore but he wanted to make you his again, show you what you were missing.

“He doesn’t know your body like I do, baby,” he whispered in your ear. His hands wrapped around you and found your chest, taking your breasts in his hand.

"Fuck, I love you," you said between moans. He was taken back and stopped for a second, but eventually snapped back into it. His hands gripped your asscheeks and spread them, making you feel even fuller than before.

He shook his head in disappointment. “I need to stop fucking you but I’m just so addicted to you. I can’t stop.” He grunted while continuing to thrust into you.

Your hands were flat against the door and your head turned to the side. You could see his muscles flexing out of the corner of your eye, making you suck in a heavy breath.

“You feel so good, Charles,” you said. A moan escaped your lips but you couldn’t hold anything back any longer. “Fuck me like it’s the first time again.” Embarrassingly enough, your first time together was in the bathroom at a house party. It seemed like bathroom sex was becoming your thing.

He picked up his pace, and pulled out quickly, but not quick enough. He came all over the back of your dress.

Your jaw dropped but you couldn’t help but laugh. He apologized profusely but also let out a small chuckle.

“Let me take you home and clean you up,” he said.

You stopped for a moment to think. “Only if you take this dress off the next time you want to fuck me.” You grabbed your purse and left the bathroom, making a beeline for the side door.

He grabbed your hand and followed you out to his car. “This isn’t how I expected my night to go.” He said, opening up his passenger side door.

You slipped in to his car and laughed. “And you think I did?”

#f1 smut #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 blurb #smut prompts #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc x reader #cl

[after-witch]

Yandere Ransom Imagine

“That's some heavy-duty conjecture.”

Word Count: 2700ish

notes: unhealthy relationships, emotional and physical abuse, financial abuse, yandere

Imagine being a struggling adult working a full time job plus freelancing gigs just to get by in your one-bedroom apartment where the ceiling always leaks when it rains and you have to perform a complicated maneuver to make sure the door doesn’t jam up on you and you’re constantly worried about your landlord raising the rent.

Maybe a well-meaning friend gets you a gift card to an upscale bookstore because they know you haven’t had a new book on your shelves in years, or maybe you find $20 on the street like a veritable Charlie Bucket but instead of buying a Wonka Bar you head into a this fantastic artisan coffee shop on the rich side of town, a place that everyone always raves about on Instagram, just so you can try an expensive latte with hand-ground beans and flavors you’ve never heard of before--because don’t you deserve a treat, for once?

Whatever it is, wherever it is, Hugh Ransom Drysdale is waiting inside and sees you there.

And oh my God is it obvious that you’re out of place right off the bat. I mean, what the hell is someone like you doing in this part of town?

With your worn out clothes that are worn from necessity and not from being fashionably thrifted and your ratty purse stuffed with papers and candy wrappers that spill out when you dig in for your card or cash and your winter boots that you’ve probably worn 5 years in a row, ripped in the hell and patched with black tape that you hope people don’t notice.

It becomes even more obvious that you’re out of your element when something goes wrong. The gift card isn’t activated. The $20? A fake, probably a movie prop that blew in the wind. Whatever goes wrong, it means that you’re suddenly at the register, impatient people with real money tapping their expensive shoes behind you, unable to pay. You’re left standing there like a deer in headlights, unsure of what to do or say.

Normally he might just roll his eyes and remind himself that people like you ought to stick to your own shops, your own place. But something about the way your eyes go all downcast and you seem to shrink down in embarrassment makes him take pity on you. Like a stray cat in the alley hoping someone will toss it some scraps.

So he strides up and flicks out a card and hands it to the cashier, dropping a friendly greeting to them because he spends like crazy and they probably know him by name at this place, and he’s the one who hands you your coffee or your bag and your hands touch ever so briefly during the exchange.

He leads you away from the register--don’t want to piss off the spoiled debutantes and assistants on lunchtime coffee runs--and you stammer out a thank-you-thank-you and you promise you’ll pay him back as soon as you can and Jesus Christ, isn’t that just adorable? Someone like you, some lost kicked puppy who can’t even afford new boots, promising to pay him back?

He doesn’t care if you pay him back, but he finds that he would like something out of this exchange, so he says that instead of paying him back you can do him the honor of going to lunch with him. His treat. 

He insists. And you can’t really say no, can you? You are hungry and he did just pay for your things and it’s the least you can do to oblige his request.

He’s not stupid. He doesn’t take you to some razzle dazzle fancy restaurant where you’ll feel embarrassed and out of place. Instead he takes you to a quiet diner, classy not greasy, where you can have an easy conversation and tell him all about yourself.

It’s funny. Normally he brings up his family name, his grandfather’s books, to women he picks up, to get them impressed and hooked and pliable. Something about you, though. Something about you is making him want to turn this into more than a lunch date and pressure for a quickie in the car to repay him. 

So he holds back to see what he can do with you on his own. No quickie in the car, but instead before he drops you off--at a bus station, you insisted--he brushes his hand over yours. Can he get your number? He swears he can feel the heat coming off your cheeks as you fumble for your phone and let him put his number in your contacts.

He waits a day, then asks you out again. Dinner, this time. He asks you if you know any good places and you recommend a dive bar that you can go to after work (because 1) schedule and 2) cheap) and shit, he’s all for it. There will be time in the future to impress you with restaurants that have dress codes instead of sticky floors. You sit close on the stools and you buy him a drink (real cute, real real cute) and just for you he keeps the baggie in his pocket there all night instead of heading to the bathroom to liven things up.

Your relationship develops with an almost shocking speed. He knows just how to reel you in. I mean--look at you. Working your ass off at some dead end job, living in an apartment so shitty it takes you almost a month before you reluctantly agree to let him see it.

He can understand, though. Because you’re not that stupid and you know he’s wealthy, even before he casually brings up his family in a “it’s no big deal but I don’t want to keep things from you because we’re getting serious” sort of way. 

You pretend to be casual about it all, but he can tell you’re suddenly wondering: why the hell would someone from this wealthy family want anything to do with me?

It’s a question Ransom asks himself a lot. He asks himself this when he’s snorting coke off another woman’s stomach (hey, you’re dating, but he’s got needs and they aren’t met with hand-holding) or when he’s eating another greasy burger at a shitty bar because you refuse to let him buy you a nice dress to wear so he can take you out somewhere fancy.

You’re not the type of person he normally goes for, not at all. He has strings of girlfriends and flings, but they all tend to fit that same cookie cutter mold: wealthy do-nothings with their parent’s credit card who want someone else to spoil them for a while, without caring who it is or what they’re like. They’re easy pickings that Ransom can burn through and then toss aside when he’s bored of them. Some of them cry but a few days later he’ll see them on someone else’s arm, it’s the circle of life.

With you, though, there’s more. You don’t expect him to pay for dates or anything at all (even when he wants to spoil you a bit) and you have actual conversations and you seem to actually give a shit about what he says and does. You argue with him, too, when he wants you to do something (just let him take you shopping, for Christ’s sake!) or he asks you to move in (again) and you say no (again). I mean, you really fight with him, spitting words and all.

And unlike his previous girlfriends, you don’t come crawling back a few hours later because you want to buy a new purse with his shiny credit card. Instead, you make him apologize first. Fuck, that’s hot. It’s also something he tucks away in the back of his mind to work on later--but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t admit that he sometimes has the overwhelming urge to push you against the wall and fuck you for the first time right after a good argument. 

But he knows that would destroy your image of him entirely, so he holds back. He’s good at crafting a version of himself that appeals to others when he has to, and you’re maybe the first person that’s been worth all the effort he’s put into you so far.

But you need a push, a push that makes it so you can’t go running back to your shithole apartment when you fight or when you question whether or no you two have a future. You do, you’re just too naive--too inexperienced with money, to say it charitably--to realize it.

So he tips off the fire marshal about your apartment building’s shoddy fire escapes and well, damn, in the process of the investigation all the little corners that your landlord has cut come crashing down. At least they were discovered before it was the building that came crashing down.

But the evacuation of the building leaves you--and countless others--high and dry. You don’t have any family in the area, and your only half ass-decent friend in the city lives in the same building but her parent’s aren’t going to let a stranger move in.

When you finally realize you have no options and call him, voice tentative and embarrassed, he knows just what to say to get you to pack your meager belongings and wait for him to pick you up. He’s no-nonsense about it. 

He knows how to avoid deflating your pride, how to keep you from deciding you’d rather stay in a shelter than take his charity. You’ll pay him back, he says, you’ll figure out a rental plan or whatever. He even teases--he’s not the best landlord, but he won’t take 2 weeks to change the toilet if you submit a maintenance request. It makes you crack a smile and bam, just like that, he knows he’s gotten in.

That night, after takeout and wine and a Netflix movie neither of you paid attention to, you fuck for the first time on his expensive sheets on his expensive bed and afterwards, when you’re both sweating and cuddling and reveling in the afterglow, he makes a note to buy you some new lingerie. 

It’s all very homey, for a while. He could do without you leaving for work and working your ass off, with your freelance shit, sometimes staying on the computer until two, three in the morning. But it’s nice to have you close all the time, available to him whenever (almost whenever) he wants. He brings home takeout and you snuggle on the couch and he finally even convinces you to go out with him to a nice restaurant wearing something he’s bought and hot damn, do you look good, head-to-toe in the clothing he’s chosen for you. Especially, later that night, in private, in the lingerie. 

Does he love you? The word hasn’t left his lips yet, hasn’t crossed yours either, but he can feel it underneath the surface. No. It’s more than love. He wants you. He wants to have you. And not just for the afternoon or the summer, but forever. 

He spins daydreams about how he’ll clean you up nice and introduce you to the family. Probably to Harlan, first, because everyone knows that’s whose opinion really matters. Harlan will like you--he would probably like you without any primping or fixing, actually, which is more than he could say for his parents or anyone else in the family. Then once you’re in, you’re in--you’ll come to family dinners and vacation retreats where people always end up in ridiculous arguments, and you two can exchange snarky comments about the family on the ride home.

And yeah, sure. You fight sometimes.

He throws out your old clothes and buys you a wardrobe befitting someone he wants to integrate into his family. You fight about that.

He makes comments about you how you should quit your job or at least try to get a degree--he’ll pay, as long as you agree to go to a university within driving distance--to work somewhere more respectable than a chain restaurant. You fight about that.

He gets pissed when you want to meet some “friends” at a bar without him, because why would you need to go anywhere without your loving boyfriend in tow, unless you were trying to flirt with someone else? You definitely fight about that.

And, okay. Maybe he’s hypocritical.

Maybe he goes out late at night when you’re stuck doing your “freelancing work” and he’s in a rotten mood about it, and he ends up on the floor of a swanky club with drugs in his system and lipstick on his neck. He doesn’t come home until the next morning and you’re pissed and red-eyed and arguing with him, accusing him even, but you have no shitty apartment to stomp back to anymore so you’re stuck. 

Until you’re not stuck. Until he casually snoops through your phone and sees that you’re looking up cheap-ass apartments and hey, you’ve already booked a few interviews already. The thought of you slipping through his fingers makes him more sober than he’s been in a while. He’s got to do something. Not to himself, of course. But to you. To keep you with him.

It’s easy enough to get you fired. He’s a ‘Thrombey’ after all, and some nice crisp bills anonymously sent to the right hands is all it takes for you to come home one night, cheap mascara (he notes: buy you some better quality makeup soon) running down your cheeks. Your freelancing isn’t nearly enough to get you into an apartment.

He assumes that you’ll give up on the idea after losing your job, but you’re nothing if not stubborn (one of the reasons why he likes you) so you start the job hunt the next morning, fresh mascara in place. 

Damn, do you keep him busy. Anonymous calls. Cash in nice white envelopes. Rejection after rejection. You get so sad, so depressed. You don’t even want to go out to restaurants, so he orders in and you snuggle in his lap while he feeds you bites of orange chicken and rubs your back. It almost brings you two closer again, starts to mend the rifts that began when you refused to get over his occasional late night out.

But then you break the uneasy mending by snooping and woah, you don’t like what you find on his phone. 

You fight. 

Damn, do you fight. This time there’s no pretense of potential forgiveness as you begin wildly throwing your clothes into your ratty duffel bag from the back of the closet, telling him to fuck off fuck off fuck off, telling him he’s crazy, telling him that what he’s doing is fucking illegal and--

It’s the shock that hurts you the most.

The shock you feel when he grips your wrist hard and pushes back on your shoulder when you try to yank away, pushing you against the wall with a hard thud. It’s like having a rug pulled out from underneath your feet when you feel a slight ache in your back, on your shoulders, when you tell him to Let go, goddamn it and he only pushes back harder to keep you in place. It’s Ransom. It’s Ransom who’s doing this.

His voice feels unrecognizably cold when he leans in and hisses in your ear.

“You think you can just leave me? After all I’ve done for you? Let me tell you something--you won’t get another job within one hundred miles of here, within one thousand miles of here, unless I say you can. So just put your clothes back in the closet, chill the fuck out, and stop being such an ungrateful bitch.”

It’s the shock that makes you numbly hang your clothes back up in the closet, fold them again with shaking hands, and sit on the bed until the dam breaks and you cry.

And oh fuck, he’s sorry. Really. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and then he’s the one who’s crying and confessing that he didn’t want you leave him because yeah, he knows he’s a fuck up, he knows he’s got a drug problem, but he loves you. 

It’s the first time he’s ever said it out loud. He loves you. “I love you,” he says, again and again, half-laughing.  And he tells you you’re the only person he’s ever dated that made him want to be a better person but he doesn’t know how.

You don’t know what to say because maybe you do love him--but he hurt you and got you fired, but the tears on his face seem so genuine and he tells you he’ll never, ever hurt you like that again and fuck, he says, if you want to go get a job he’ll drive you to the interview right now just-let-him-blow-his-nose-first-please.

You make him sit down and then you’re the one apologizing and the rest of the afternoon is a shaky truce between you two as you drink hot chocolate and order in takeout and watch a movie together.

It’s not until you’re both under the sheets, satisfied and then showered, that you think about what he did to you in a clearer light. The thoughts weigh heavy on your mind, pulling and tugging. You think you might love him. He hurt you. He took care of you when no one else would. He cheated on you. 

I love you, he tells you, when your mind is starting to tug itself into sleep.

He hit you. He said he was sorry.

He hit you.

#ransom drysdale #ransom x reader #yandere x reader #afterwitch headcanons #afterwitch writes #I'm not sure what to callt this because it's not a normal fic but it's not headcanons either #just #word vomit about ransom after i watched this movie every day for a week straight

[prorevenge]

Mock my mother’s death? I bankrupt you.

So this could be a very, very long story. I’ll try to summarize where and when I can.

My now ex-wife Kate and I moved to an apartment in 2010. The house as a whole a renovated town house split between two sides with two apartments on the bottom and two apartments upstairs. I wasn’t the biggest fan of the apartment as it was a much older building that I had ever lived in but I quickly adjusted to the wood creaking throughout the night. On the initial walkthrough we noticed that the only problem was that there was a dip in the bathroom ceiling. The landlord, Jay, promised he would get fixed ASAP.

One year to the day when we moved in there was a loud crash at 4AM. The bathroom ceiling had collapsed and there was tiling and wood all over over the floor and in the bathtub. Now Kate was typically the aggressive one, while I was more passive and laid back, and she kept calling Jay throughout the day. When she got in touch with him at around 9PM she explained what happened and insisted that it be fixed immediately. He rebuffed with him yelling that his girlfriend was a lawyer and he didn’t need to do anything. Now this is where I got mad. I went outside and called him myself. I feigned a relaxed demeanor and at first he began trying to talk to me as a “bro” and kept saying “Dude, I’m gonna get someone out there but it’s gonna take a few weeks..” When he couldn’t sway me that way he began yelling about his girlfriend and her knowing the law. What he was unaware of was that I had read the tenant laws in my state and so as he tried to lie I waited until he was finished and I recited the law stating that, if an apartment was considered uninhabitable then the landlord needed to pay for the tenant to stay in a place until it was resolved. He tried to say that our upstairs neighbor Phil was the super but he wasn’t sure if he could get down there that night. He put me on hold, then came back a few minutes later and said that Phil and his girlfriend were out of state. I rang Phils doorbell and asked, with the Jay on speakerphone, if he was assigned as the super. He laughed and said “No.” Dejected, he said he would have people out there the next day (previously he said they were busy for at least three weeks). There’s more to this incident but it lead to two conclusions:

If you’re going to lie then there has to be a consistency in your lie AND make sure that the people you lie to DON’T communicate with each other.

This is where a feud started between me and my Kate versus him and his mother (she was the original landlord and gave the house to him so he could begin to profit.)

So forward to a year later. Jay stopped coming to the house and his mom began doing the pick-ups. Around this time my ex- and I had been laid off and we were working with social security for food, health, and housing insurance. We were approved for all three in April but we would not get the check until May. When our typical check wasn’t in the landlord’s mailbox he immediately gave a summons saying that he was taking us to court for eviction. The day we went to court he had no lawyer and, going before the judge, here’s the summation:

Judge: Does the defense have a means to pay within 90 days of non-payment? Us: Yes judge (hands over paperwork showing that he will be paid for April and May) Judge: I see no problem. They are breaking no laws. Why are we here? Jay: Well your honor, they have been bullying- Judge: I don’t care, unless they are breaking a law then this case is dismissed.

Suffice it to say Jay and his mother’s were NOT happy. Around this time in my life things were tumultuous. My mother, who had been battling lung cancer succumbed to it in June . This happened at roughly the same time his mom came knocking looking for payment. I explained that I would leave it in the mailbox when we got back from the funeral home and to please just respect my right to mourn. She took her fingers and began rubbing them together, pretending to play the smallest violin.

I will never forget what she said next “Oooh, my mommy just died. Woe is me. She probably had it coming. I don’t care if your entire family is dead. I want my money.” She smiled smugly, proud with what she had just said. I saw red and my heart jumped into my throat. I went, grabbed the check, and handed it to her in absolute shock that anyone would say something so...fucked up? She had finally managed to push a button that very few people I’ve known throughout my life have seen. I went into rage mode but not in the way you would expect.

THE REVENGE: We were always told that if a health inspector came by to not open the door. I waited until Aug. since that was when the lease was going to run out and we knew they would not extend a renewal. I walked up the block to town hall to ask for a health inspection of our property. It was scheduled for several days later. Now it’s important to know several things:

I was friends with all of the tenants. Phil had moved out with his fiancé but the new tenant was Dani upstairs in our side. Tom and Hana on the other side of the downstairs floor had moved out and Jay was still looking for new tenants. The only one who wanted to stay out of this was Rose on the upper right apartment.

I had gotten a key so I could let the inspector in Dani’s apartment and I knew that I could use the back staircase on the right side to let him in on Tom’s, now vacant apartment.

I also knew that Dani was moving out in September along with Kate and myself.

The inspector came and it was glorious. He checked the exterior of the house first noting that wires were exposed, there was an old empty dryer along with other odd clutter in the backyard. I bought him inside the shared entrance and, as I was counting on, he noticed that the last inspected dated back to 1994; 18 years. This meant that for each year he did not have an inspection there would be appropriate fines. For our apartment we had black mold growing in our bathroom and the bubble in the ceiling had begun to grow to problematic proportions. Upstairs, Dani’s apartment was suffering from leaks in the ceiling and it looked like her bathroom ceiling was also on the brink of collapsing. We then went to the basement. The boiler was on the verge of exploding, there was flammable items along with gasoline and a pack of matches sitting right beside it. Two things that I did not know was 1. The fire door that separated the two sides did not close all of the way rendering it moot and, on the right basement side there was a toilet. A toilet that had blown up. It had coated the surrounding walls and the leakage prevented us going up to the floor via the right side. The entire time the inspector was photographing and writing constantly.

We stepped outside and he said he needed to come back. When I asked why he said he had run out of space to write down all of the infractions (he had filled the front and had written an entire page on the back portion). I kindly and coyly asked “Well, how much will it cost right now?” He scratched his head and said “Around 20-30k from what I can see but it’s probably going to be higher as this house was never licensed to be split into apartments.” I thanked him and he was going to come back with the county inspector.

So we moved out and but I got the rundown from Rose. Because he was the current owner he owed all current fines and no one new could not move into the empty apartments until everything was up to code. Because three out of four were vacant he was losing 4,500 in potential rent. He handed the property back to his mother and had to claim for bankruptcy. Now here’s the other thing. Every time an old tenant left and a new one was coming in an inspection was supposed to be done. Now that all of the financial burden fell on her they looked into the records and was she was fined for each time she had broken that rule 750/per. By the end of the year Rose had moved out so the place was hemorrhaging money. I sat back, proud of what I had done, and left it be.

Haha, no, fuck that. I wasn’t close to done yet.

I felt like I had destroyed Jay but my real target had always been his mom. I learned that she had about eight properties throughout three towns in my county. I went to each one, spoke to the tenants, and said I was a concerned tenant from another property and asked if they had any problems with their apartments. EVERY person I asked described the apartment in very poor to intolerable levels and that the mom was effectively a slumlord. She would ignore problems unless someone turned to litigations, she was threatened that they would summon the inspector, or, more often than not, the people would move out, she’d refuse their deposit, and sink those into repairs. People rarely fought back because she knew that the occupants were of upper, lower class minorities. So, being the concerned person I was, I want to the inspector of the other two towns and asked for an inspection to be done with at least one, if not more, would be awaiting the inspector when they came. Turns out that she faced pretty much the same infractions on every apartment she owned. It turned out she actually had 12 apartments but I initially only knew about the ones that fell within my county. The remaining properties in the next county over were given a heads up for a surprise inspection. From what I can tell Jays mom had been in the landlord business for about 35-40 years. That collapsed quickly.

Since we moved literally one block down the road from our old one I got to see Jay lose his primary source of income and have to claim bankruptcy BUT also saw that his mother was also trying desperately to find a buyer for all of the apartments so she could pay off the fines. I learned two years later that she too had to file for bankruptcy. Jay and his mother camped out in front of our next apartment two days in Oct. of 13 before she filed for bankruptcy (I’m guessing to scream at me and/or Kate) so I called the cops and said that there were strange people standing in a no parking zone and they kept looking up at the second floor. A cruiser swung by and told them to leave.

I know I should have used the two months I spent monitoring everything to find a new job but this was the one and only time I wanted to cripple a person where they hurt the most; their wallets. I think I got my point across. None of this would’ve happened if you had just fucking fixed the ceiling before it collapsed Jay!

Th;dr: Had a couple of slumlords, they pushed me to a place where I snapped, and so I went a bit crazy and bankrupted the slumlord AND his slumlord mother as well.

(source) story by (/u/Theliterside)

#prorevenge #by /u/Theliterside #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

[pain-somnia]

Title: Take Me Now, I’m In Too Far Rating: M (for sexual content) Disclaimer Playlist Art Credit: @inknigella​ (used with permission) Day’s Notes: I have recently updated this fic on Patreon. It is one of three fics of mine exclusive to Patreon, but here’s a chance to read Part 1 of my “exes as roommates” AU. This fic is dear to me in almost the same way Kingdom For Two is. The fic started as a simple Roommates AU, but then was molded into something else when I decided to add the fact that they were exes. I wanted to write about two people that love each other a lot but growing up and becoming “real” adults made things difficulty. If you would like to give this fic a chance and enjoy Part 1, you can find Part 2 & Part 3 on Patreon. Here is a link to the tag for this fic. I have opened up the $1 tier permanently for access to exclusive fics and early access to publicly posted fics, but I have other tiers with different perks. One of the perks for certain tiers are PDFs that contain exclusive art that will only be found in full on my Patreon (or in some cases Cj’s Patreon). The above banner was created with a preview of one of the many works Ink has provided to help bring my work to life.

I hope you all enjoy the first part of this fic and consider becoming one of my patrons 😊

Part One

She was going to kill Karin. And her stupid boyfriend. She was going to kill Karin and her boyfriend and then take back the armchair she let them have as a moving-in-together gift.

Sakura wasn’t that surprised when Karin told her she was moving out. She had been spending so much time at Suigetsu’s apartment, it was as if she had already moved out months ago. It was only a matter of time before the two of them would officially move in together.

Karin had been considerate and had found her a new roommate before she gave her the news. And although Sakura wasn’t too keen on the idea of living with a stranger—a man at that—she was willing to put up with it for her friend’s happiness.

At least for a few months while she looked for a new place if possible.

Unfortunately for Sakura, she couldn’t set a day to actually meet her new roommate before he was set to move in. Their schedules conflicted most days so Karin went ahead and took care of all of the necessary paperwork and was present when he moved in. With how things had begun, Sakura assumed she wouldn’t meet her new roommate until her day off.

She hadn’t expected to run into him as she was leaving for work at the bakery at three in the morning and he was coming home smelling of booze.

She definitely didn’t expect to see her ex-boyfriend holding a key to her apartment.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Sasuke muttered, running a hand through his messy, jet black hair.

“You’re my new roommate?” Sakura scoffed, wringing her hands in the scarf she was attempting to put on on her way out. “How did you not know that I was Karin’s roommate?”

Sasuke looked at her impassively for a moment, as if mulling over what he wanted to say before pushing past her and saying, “I’m going to bed.”

“What? We’re not even going to talk about this?”

“If we start now, you’re going to be late for work,” he called back to her without turning around. “Can’t have that can we?”

Sakura scoffed but couldn’t retort. He was right. If she missed her bus she was going to have to wait for the next one and it would cause her to be late.

She wanted nothing more than to bang on his bedroom door and demand that he come out and speak with her. How could he just go to sleep!?

“We’re talking when I get back!” She shouted, grabbing the front door. Sakura waited but there was no response. She growled in frustration and slammed the door behind her on her way out.

.

.

“Have you been taking your anger out on dough again?” Ino commented dryly between page flips of a cake catalogue, pointing out cute designs to the toddler sitting on her lap and cooing.

Sakura rubbed her temple with the heel of her palm and sighed. It was one in the afternoon and she had spent the day busy working on custom orders. At the moment she was sitting through a consultation with her childhood friend who needed to order a birthday cake for her son, Inojin. She had tried to throw herself into baking and packaging orders but now that there was a slow down where it was only her and two of the shop clerks, her mind was free to think about how her ex was now living with her.

“You know how Karin moved out and found me a roommate?”

“Uh-huh, it was kind of unexpected. Isn’t it a little early though? They’ve only been dating for━”

“Sasuke is the roommate she found me.”

“Holy━sorry, honey.” Ino interrupted herself and covered her son’s ears. “Holy shit!”

“I wanted to call her and chew her out but in her defense, she doesn’t know he’s my ex-boyfriend.” Sakura slumped in her seat, took a fork and dug into one of the cake slices she brought out for tasting. “When I did get a chance to talk to her earlier, she said that apparently Suigetsu is best buddies with him and Kiba. Kiba and Sasuke were rooming with their friend Shino but the lease was coming to an end and Shino was moving away for a teaching job and Kiba decided to move in with his fiancée. So━”

“So Sasuke needed a new place quick and conveniently Suigetsu knew a place close enough to his workplace and with someone that desperately needed a new roommate.”

Sakura tossed the fork over her shoulder in defeat and dropped her head into her hands. Ino reached over and patted her arm in a comforting manner.

“I give you guys two weeks.”

“Two weeks for what?” Sakura lifted her head up to narrow her eyes at Ino. “Before we kill each other?”

Ino covered Inojin’s ears one more time and said, “Two weeks before you’re fucking.”

“Ino!” Sakura sat up, looking affronted, hand clutching the front of her apron.

“You guys used to go at it like rabbits,” Ino gave her a sly smile, “and it’s not like you guys broke up because you grew to hate each other.”

“That was years ago, Ino.” Sakura rolled her eyes and pushed the cake slices closer to Inojin. He immediately sank his fingers into the cake and ate from his hands. “He’s probably moved on anyway.”

“It was the stupidest break up.”

“I know it was, but we were so busy and our schedules never aligned. It was frustrating.” Sakura sighed and stared off into space. “It’s been four years…”

Ino took out some wet wipes and cleaned Inojin’s chubby fingers. “So what are you going to do?”

Sakura shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Ino looked at her incredulously. “You’re just going to live with him and not do a thing about it.”

“I didn’t even notice he was there for three days already.” Sakura shrugged again. “And our schedules never sync up. I really don’t think it will be an issue.”

“Unless he brings someone home,” Ino said the words slowly so Sakura couldn’t miss what she was telling her.

“He’s not as insensitive as that.” Sakura crossed her arms in front of her chest. The action was to get as close to hugging herself without actually doing it.

The truth was that the Sasuke she knew wasn’t insensitive. But she didn’t know this Sasuke; a Sasuke that was twenty-five instead of the twenty year old she knew and loved.

.

.

The new apartment was a lot closer to the tattoo parlor he worked at than his old place. It was one of the things that sold him on it when Suigetsu mentioned that Karin was moving in with him and leaving her old roomie without. That and the washer and dryer included in the apartment which meant no more paying at a laundromat or to use the communal laundry center.

Sasuke wasn’t too keen on sharing a space with a woman he didn’t know but Karin insisted that his roommate was clean and quiet and that with her work schedule he wouldn’t be running into her except on Sundays when her bakery was closed.

Bakery.

That was the first sign that had him want to put the pen down and walk away. Because baking is what she wanted to do for a living. But what were the odds that Karin was talking about her? There were tons of bakeries in the city and Sakura didn’t own one the last time he checked.

But that was five years ago when she was nineteen and too young. She was still pretty young to be a business owner but with Sakura’s tenacity there was a highly likely chance that she would have her own shop. And wasn’t that one of the reasons she had been saving every penny she could when she started working?

Shaking his head of all of those thoughts, he had signed the documents that would transfer him as the new leasee replacing Karin.

It wasn’t until he was moving in that Sasuke found out who exactly Karin’s roommate had been.

Suigetsu and he were bringing in boxes while Karin gave him a tour of the apartment when he saw the photos on the wall. Anyone could dye their hair pink but what were the odds that another pink haired woman around Karin’s age would have gone to Catholic school for high school and wore the same uniform that Sakura used to prance around in.

“Sakura is pretty sentimental so she has photos all over the apartment,” he distantly heard Karin explain as he examined all of the photos that were lined up in the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Come check out the bathroom. It’s pretty big ‘cause the washer and dryer are set up in there. There’s a door to block out that area from the toilet and shower cabin for some privacy. It’s frosted glass but you can’t really see what’s going on on the other side.”

Karin hadn’t been friends with Sakura when the two of them had been dating so he couldn’t fault her for not knowing but Suigetsu did know that Sakura was his ex.

An ex he was still kind of hung up on.

Which is why after work he headed to the bar with Kiba and Tamaki, Kiba’s fiancée. They were supposed to celebrate him finding a new place but after Kiba asked why Suigetsu wasn’t there, Sasuke explained that he was banned from their usual bar for a few weeks because he let him move in with his ex without warning him.

If he was lucky he would never have to run into Sakura while he was living there. Because wasn’t that the cause of their breakup before? With her busy culinary school schedule and apprenticeship and then his work at the parlor running into late at night, they barely saw each other.

So stumbling in slightly drunk and a little high at three in the morning, Sasuke didn’t expect to see her on the other side of the apartment door in the middle of bundling up for the November cold.

Sakura still looked like she did at nineteen but different at the same time. Her face had lost most of the roundness of youth, but her figure was no longer as slim. She was still on the thin side, but unlike Karin who was all sharp edges and harsh angles, Sakura had filled out either with age or from eating one too many of her own cupcakes.

Sasuke ran a hand through his hair before tucking the arm it was attached to behind his head. He was finding it difficult to stay asleep which was all he had planned on doing before work for the day. Sakura had said something about talking later and he had been dreading having to have the conversation. He vaguely recalled saying something snarky about her running late for work. No doubt she would be upset over that.

The conversation was going to happen. But considering he would be gone before she came home from work, who knew when it would actually take place.

If he was lucky, she would wait until they were home and not find him at work like she used to.

.

.

When Sasuke first met Sakura she was wearing all of the cliche warning signs.

He was busy sketching when she strolled into the shop. Sasuke was supposed to be manning the reception desk and was likely to get bitched at by his cousin’s best friend for not paying attention.

“Hey,” greeted a cheerful voice.

Looking up from his sketchbook, Sasuke blinked in confusion at what he was seeing. Before him stood two teenage girls wearing the dark green tartan patterned pleated skirt and white button down shirt of a school uniform. The blonde one had a sweater wrapped around her waist but the slightly shorter girl with rose gold hair had a cream colored school cardigan with the school crest emblazoned on the left side of her chest.

“Our Lady of Sorrows is seven blocks,” Sasuke pointed out the door, “that way.”

“We have an appointment.” The blonde girl blew a bubble with her gum and popped it. “The school day also ended like an hour ago, dude.”

Raising an eyebrow, he flipped through the appointment book and asked, “names?”

“Ino Yamanaka and Sakura Haruno,” the girl with the pink hair answered, pointing at the girl that matched the names she gave. “We have an appointment with my cousin Sasori.”

Looking down the schedule log there it was. The new piercer did have an appointment with an Ino and a Sakura.

“Aren’t piercings prohibited at catholic schools?” Sasuke asked, eyeing the uniforms.

“Yeah, but you can’t get caught if you get them where the nuns can’t see them.” The pink haired girl winked at him, green eyes sparkling mischievously.

“What kind of piercings are you getting then?” He asked, taking out the waiver forms.

“Belly button for Ino.” The blonde girl raised her hand and took her form and filled out the form.

He turned to Sakura and waited for her answer. Her lips turned upwards at the corners in a coy smile.

“Hips.”

Even now, if Sasuke closed his eyes and concentrated on the memory of Sakura swiveling her hips as he thrust up into her, he could see the jewelry twinkling at him as she dipped her hips.

A lot of years had gone by since that first encounter and Sasuke was no longer the shop slave he was during his apprenticeship and Sakura was no longer that rebellious catholic school girl.

It didn’t stop him from wondering if her dermals were still in place or if after all those years her skin rejected the piercings and they had to be removed.

“What’s up with you, kid?” He felt someone ruffle his hair and he swatted at the air. The only one that had the courage to do so was Konan, one of their piercers.

“Nothing,” he replied, sanitizing the tattoo bed before his next client showed up.

“His ex girlfriend found out he lives with her,” Kiba cackled from his work station. Sasuke took his discarded gloves and threw them across the room until they hit him with a smack. “Ow!”

“Why would that be a surprise?” Konan asked. Sasuke made himself busy taking needles to the autoclave to avoid responding.

“She works baker’s hours,” Sasuke heard Kiba responding for him. “They have opposing schedules so Sui’s girlfriend took care of everything.”

“Good luck with that.”  Konan went to the reception counter to check the appointment book. She had already moved on from the conversation.

I’m going to need more than luck, Sasuke grumbled inwardly.

.

.

Sakura drummed her fingers against her mug, nails clinking against the ceramic. She knew Sasuke wouldn’t get home until late so she called the co-owner of her bakery and asked her to oversee the baking of the everyday  goods the following morning.

While Sakura mostly ran the show in the kitchen—Hinata being too soft and gentle to command the staff—she was mostly the cake artist and worked on custom orders. It was a lot more relaxed than the job she had as a pastry chef for the high end hotel in the city, but it still demanded a lot of her time.

She could spend hours of her day just to work on a cake that would still take her three days to make all of the components for it.

It wasn’t until one in the morning that the front door creaked open, keys jingling as they were pulled out of the lock.

“You stayed up.” Sasuke toed his boots off and lined them up next to hers. The leather work boots were of a popular brand so they hadn’t alarmed Sakura despite them being part of Sasuke’s signature look.

Sakura stood up from his seat at the couch and wrapped her oversized cardigan tighter around her body. She hugged herself, feeling exposed in her pajamas. “I said we had to talk.”

“There’s not much to talk about.” Sasuke tossed his keys on the kitchen island. Sakura grabbed them and placed them on a wall hook next to her own set of keys. “I need a place to live, you need a roommate. That’s it.”

“That’s it?” Sakura asked, voice soft and slow, urging him to re-examine their situation. When he continued to stare at her impassively, Sakura scoffed.

“I didn’t know you were Karin’s roommate until I was moving in.”

“I know.” Sakura ran a hand through her hair, pushing her bangs back. Sasuke wasn’t a liar. At least the Sasuke she knew wasn’t a liar. “I know.”

“So is this the end of the discussion?” Sasuke’s eyes drifted from her to the hallway behind her. It was late and all he wanted was to get to bed. “I don’t really see any problem with us living together. You didn’t even notice that I was here for three days.”

The problem is that I never got over you. “Alright, if there’s no problem then let’s go over the rules.”

“Rules?” Sasuke gave her a blank look.

“Yes, rules. Karin and I had them and now so will we.”

“Okay.” Sasuke crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned against the island. “What are your rules?”

“Rule number one: no fucking on the couch.”

Sasuke’s eyes went wide and he choked on an inhale. “That’s a rule you guys had or is that one you made for me?”

“That was an actual rule we had.” Sakura shivered in disgust. “Suigetsu has a very pale ass.”

“Yeah, everyone’s seen more of Sui than they’ve ever wanted to.”

“Rule number two: toilet seat needs to be put back down after use.”

“Okay, that’s definitely one you made up for me.” Sasuke stood you straighter and looked her up and down. “Do I get to make rules too?”

“I will consider them.”

“Alright.” Sasuke was silent for a moment as he pondered. “No obnoxious noises such as vacuuming when you know the other is sleeping.”

“That’s reasonable.” Sakura sat down on one of the bar stools at the island and took out her notepad. She took out a pen and wrote down a few lines. “I do my laundry twice a week━Wednesdays and Sundays, usually around noon. Having a schedule kind of helps out ‘cause the laundry room is in the bathroom.”

They went back and forth writing down rules and going over each other’s work schedule. Sakura tapped the pen on the table and took a deep breath. She didn’t want to step on any toes or be misunderstood but she needed to bring up an uncomfortable topic.

“No overnight guests.” Sasuke raised an eyebrow and in a rush to recover Sakura blurted out, “for either of us! At least not without a heads up. I don’t want to be walking around in my underwear and there’s a stranger in my home.”

“Why would you be walking around in your━?”

“I sleep like that sometimes!” Sakura snapped, cheeks heating up. “I wake up to use the bathroom or get water and I’m too drowsy to consider pants.”

“Why do you sleep in your underwear if you get cold easily?” Sasuke’s face scrunched up in confusion.

“I come home too tired to change so I just sleep in my underwear.” Sakura stomped her foot. Sasuke raised an eyebrow. “Don’t judge me!”

“Just remember that I live here now and will see your ass if you decide that pants are too much,” Sasuke yawned, “effort. I’m going to bed now.”

Sakura watched him head to his room with a frown on her face. It wasn’t until she heard the lock on his door click that she let out an exhausted sigh.

Does he have to look cute when he’s sleepy?

.

.

“Is this too much for a three year old’s birthday?” Sakura sat back and looked thoughtfully at her sketch with her chin resting on her fist.

Hinata shrugged as she continued to pipe buttercream flowers. “I mean it’s more for Ino, isn't it?”

“God,” Sakura rolled her eyes, “it really is. I’m sure Inojin would be happy with a dinosaur on a cake instead of a dinosaur made out of cake.”

Hinata giggled softly as she continued to make a bouquet out of cupcakes. She was working on cupcakes for a bridal shower. Sakura had helped her with the structure to make it appear that it was suspended in the air and now all she had to do was decorate it.

When Sakura had met Hinata, the young woman wasn’t the best baker. It was an issue of confidence and being unsure if it was the best decision she had made. Upon discovering that Hinata had a few years to become a successful baker or get married to a man her father chose, Sakura took her under her wing and when they were ready they used Hinata’s trust fund to secure a location.

At that point Sakura already had a reputation for her cake sculptures so they lucked out.

Just because Sakura couldn’t be with the person she loved, it didn’t mean she was going to watch someone give up on their dream and marry someone they were forced to.

“So how has Tinder been working out for you?” Sakura drawled as she took out the ingredients she was going to need.

“I prefer Bumble, actually,” Hinata mumbled, face flushing pink. “You know it’s weird describing myself as pleasantly plump. Usually I would just say fat or chubby.”

“But you are pleasantly plump,” Sakura teased her. “And good call on Bumble. Message any guys?”

“I might have,” Hinata muttered under her breath, face turning a dark shade of red.

“Oh, you dirty slut.”

“We only met for coffee!” Hinata insisted over Sakura’s laughter. Sakura waved her hand at her and tried to reign in her laughter. It was quiet in the kitchen until Hinata said, “I wouldn’t have minded though. He has such pretty blue eyes.”

Sakura only stopped laughing when Hinata threw buttercream at her face.

The assistants walked in from the front of the shop to find Sakura covered in pink and purple frosting, armed with a piping bag full of green frosting, and Hinata shielding her cupcake sculpture.

.

.

Sakura was exhausted by the time she got home. It was one of those rare days where she didn’t get home until late. There was so much math and engineering into creating cake sculptures and trial and error.

She slumped against her apartment door and groaned. She had just unlocked the door but had no energy to push it open.

“You’re almost there, don’t pass out now.” Turning slightly, Sakura mumbled incoherently at the sight of Sasuke holding a take out bag. “Jesus Christ, you’re dead on your feet.”

“Carry me,” Sakura grumbled.

Sighing to himself, Sasuke handed her the bag of takeout and crouched down, scooping her legs up and cradling her. “How the fuck did Karin deal with you? She’s twiggy.”

“Suigetsu was usually around or she’d drag me across the floor.” Sakura opened the bag of food and examined the contents as Sasuke set her down on the couch. “Anything I’d like in here?”

“I thought you would be sleeping, but I have some stuff you could tolerate.” He grabbed two plates and brought them to the coffee table and began to serve her some of his food. “Do you ever take a break?”

“I have a day off tomorrow technically.”

“But you’re going to go to work.” Sasuke shook his head, unruly hair swaying around his face. “Typical.”

And with that Sakura lost all desire to eat despite not having had anything to eat all day except for some bread and tastings.

“Hey, where are you? It’s getting weird just sitting here. I can order right now if you’re nearby.”

“Oh, shoot! Sasuke I’m sorry but I’m still at work.”

“Wasn't today your day off?”

So what if she was a “workaholic?” If she were a man no one would see anything wrong with how much she worked.

She knew that eventually she was going to be faced with reminders of what a shitty girlfriend she had been, but she had hoped that she would be alone as she looked back on all of the mistakes she had made.

Sasuke had forgiven her for the first missed date but once he had been stood up a second, third, fourth, fifth time he stopped making any plans for them.

“I gotta take this coat off,” Sakura mumbled, fumbling with the buttons. Sasuke reached over and helped her get free of her coat and then hung it up on the hooks by the door. If he was going to be this nice for the duration of the time they lived together, the shittier she was going to feel.

“Karin said you owned a bakery. When did that happen?” He handed her a plate full of food, much more food than Sakura would have served herself, but one look from Sasuke had her clamming up and taking the set of chopsticks he placed flat across her palm.

“A few years ago…” Sakura swallowed a bite of dumpling. “It was kind of an accident.”

Sasuke raised an eyebrow and paused in his chewing. Sakura laughed through her nose and explained to him how she had met Hinata.

She had been working at the same high end hotel she had done her apprenticeship when Hinata had been hired on the spot. The tiny, plump woman was quiet and stuttered when speaking to her coworkers because no one wanted her there.

Hinata had been hired because of her last name—the hotel being owned by the Hyūga family—with no references nor any culinary school training which was required to work at the Michelin star hotel restaurant. Due to the fact they were around the same age and because she was the newest hire, Sakura was tasked with watching over the woman. No one else would take up the responsibility thinking that Hinata would hold them back.

Sakura just couldn’t leave Hinata alone. She reminded her so much of herself when she was younger. She helped to train her during her off time and guided her through the French techniques that Sakura had been trained in.

The desire to learn and the drive was there, hidden under the fear of failure.

Sakura moved on to work at a custom cake shop where she could use more of her artistic abilities. Eventually the owner was ready to retire and was willing to sell the store to her.

She wanted to own her shop one day. It was part of her goals but brick and mortar shops were expensive. If it weren’t for Hinata’s trust fund she would never have been able to afford the shop. The two of them had kept in touch and when Sakura found out that Hinata was on her way to quitting being a pastry chef, they made plans to go into business together.

Sasuke listened to her story, never interjecting but nodding at certain intervals and slight facial shifts showing that Sakura still had his attention.

“So what have you been up to?” Sakura asked, digging through the leftover noodles in one of the cartons.

“I still work at the same shop. I moved out a few years ago. Funnily enough it was my mom that was on my case not my dad.”

“Really?” Sakura was genuinely shocked.

When she had last seen Fugaku he wasn’t the biggest supporter of Sasuke’s chosen profession. He had paid for him to go to art school, not to waste his talent working at a tattoo parlor. His mother, Mikoto, was the one that had always been his personal cheerleader.

“I think it was all of the new ink,” Sasuke gestured to his sleeve covered arms, “that really did it for my mom. She always made faces at them and commented about what kind of girl I thought I would be attracting with them.”

I always liked your tattoos. Sakura shrugged and stuffed noodles into her mouth to keep from commenting out loud.

When Sakura was just freshly eighteen and finishing her final year of high school, Sasuke was the exact kind of guy her grandmother had wanted her to stay away from. She had left money behind in her will for Sakura to attend the same school she and Sakura’s mother, Mebuki, had attended.

Our Lady of Sorrows was a Catholic private school that Sakura’s parents wouldn’t have been able to afford without the money her grandmother had left behind. She had probably hoped that Sakura would go to private school, be abstinent, go to college and then medical school and then eventually marry a doctor.

It was too bad that Sakura preferred to be in the kitchen with her father a lot more than she cared for her school. If they had let her stay in public school there may have been a better chance of her focusing on her studies and eventually going to medical school like her grandma had wanted her to. Sakura had been miserable at Our Lady of Sorrows, her only solace being Ino and baking.

And Sasuke.

Sasuke had been the kind of cliché salvation a teenage girl fantasized about. And she still couldn’t believe that at one point in their lives, she had been his.

.

.

Ino cut off the boy that usually sat at the desk in front of Sakura and slid into the seat, a manic look in her eyes. “Guess what?”

“I’m not playing this game,” Sakura laughed, completely ignoring the boy that was frowning at Ino.

“Well, fine. Be boring.” Ino huffed, blowing her bangs up and letting them flop back on her face. “But anyway so I was talking to your cousin Sasori━”

“Ino, he’s way too old for you and he’s gay. And you have a boyfriend.”

“That’s not why I was talking to your cousin, Billboard Brow.” Ino flicked Sakura’s forehead. “But anywho. So I went to visit your cousin at that parlor he’s working at now ‘cause I wanna get those piercings you wanted for your birthday━no arguments. They’re on me. We’re going after school.”

“That’s awfully generous of you.” Sakura pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at her. “Is Sasori giving you a discount?”

Ino scoffed. “I wish! That miser,” she grumbled. Ino shook her hair out and then smiled slyly at her. “But that’s not even the best part.”

Sakura rolled her eyes. Ino was really milking the big surprise. She was too impatient for this and the homeroom teacher would show up soon.

“Remember that mega hottie from the public school at the student showcase down at The Factory Art Center?”

Sakura groaned, dropping her head onto her planner. How could she forget? She was just lucky that he hadn’t seen her run straight into a wall because she had been so distracted. The only good thing that came about that was that Ino met her boyfriend Sai that day. And that the boy hadn’t noticed her accident.

It had been a student showcase for the senior students in the schools in the city and Sakura and Ino attended for extra credit. Sakura had been mindlessly looking at all of the pieces until a tall boy wearing all black with messy hair had caught her eye. She had barely heard Ino call out “Dibs!” before she ran into one of the pillars because she wasn’t paying attention to where she was walking.

Ino had given up chase and did her best friend duties by checking up on Sakura. Luckily for her, a different dark haired boy had seen the whole thing and had come over to help out and Ino got her older boyfriend anyway.

“That was almost a whole year ago. Why must you remind me that I embarrassed myself in front of like, seven different senior classes.”

“Mega hottie works at the parlor your cousin does. He’s an apprentice-slash-shop slave.”

That, Sakura hadn’t expected. She had seen his work and expected him to go off to art school and then maybe come back to The Factory Art Center to be a resident artist or for him to even switch tracks and work at Glass & Iron━he did have some lampwork and some welding work as part of his showcase.

“So what?” Sakura swallowed. The grin on Ino’s face was foreboding.

“So,” Ino reached over and played with the ends of Sakura’s long pink hair, “someone is going to take her cute butt down there and finally meet him.”

.

.

“Sakura.”

Sakura blinked at the hand that waved in front of her face. Sasuke looked down at her with concern. She looked just about ready to pass out in her noodles.

“Are you okay? You should probably get to bed.” He would just have to clean up everything on his own. And if she tried to go to work on her day off, he’d call the tiny red terror━Karin or Sakura’s cousin, Sasori━to force her to rest for once.

Sakura rubbed her eye with the back of her little fist and murmured, “I should. Thank you for the food.”

She was so small and tired, Sasuke just wanted to scoop her up and bundle her up in her blankets. But then he remembered that she would be going to her own room and he would be going to his and there were four years between now and when he was hers.

Did she still curl herself inward like a cat when she slept? Bury herself under three blankets that weighed almost as much she did?

He could help her to her room and find out. She was dead on her feet and would probably need him to keep from stumbling and running into a wall. It would be so easy to just curl his arm around her waist, pull her closer to his sturdier frame.

It would be easy, oh so easy. And that’s why Sasuke left her to her own devices.

#sasusaku #ss fanfiction #day!fics

[imagineaworlds]

I Love You (Part Thirty-Five) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing. Mentions of death, torture, panic attack, PTSD-- everything Criminal Minds.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 13417

Timeline: Season 5 Episode 10. A few days after part thirty-four.

Following that fateful afternoon, we spent every day in a nearby hotel. We knew that we couldn’t go back there after what happened. Hotch and I were hardly sleeping as it was, but being in that house would have just given us nightmares. There was no way in hell that we could continue to live there, even after they cleaned all of the blood out of the carpets and walls. Not to mention that it felt wrong thinking about sleeping in the same room where Haley was found, and having Jack sleep in the same home where it happened… It wasn’t right.

Jack wasn’t sleeping, either. The first night, he managed to sleep in his own bed in the hotel room, but he started having nightmares after that, so Hotch and I let him sleep in our bed between us. It seemed to help all three of us calm down, but the only one who could achieve giving into exhaustion was Jack. I asked myself one night while watching him sleep if either me or Hotch would ever be able to sleep again or if I was doomed to always see Haley’s body whenever I closed my eyes. It must have been so much worse for Hotch. I couldn’t even begin to imagine. Finding Haley like that was probably the worst thing he had ever seen— even with the career that we had. We had seen and done so many horrible things, but nothing compared to finding the woman who brought Jack into this world, dead on our bedroom floor.

There wasn’t a moment during those following days that I let either Hotch or Jack out of my sight. If I weren’t holding them, I was at least close enough that I could grab them in an instant if I needed to. For instance, Jack liked the outdoor pool at the hotel, and he asked us on the second afternoon if we could go swimming. We hadn’t brought swimsuits with us, obviously, so Hotch tried to explain that we couldn’t; but I quickly insisted that I would ask Morgan to grab Jack’s Spiderman swimsuit for him from the house. Jack spent the next few days swimming in the pool while Hotch and I sat nearby, just holding hands and watching him. And while we sat there, I thought of every possible escape plan. I knew that Jack would be my first priority. I would’ve jumped right into the pool, grabbed him, and carried him in my arms as we ran.

But I also had to remember that we were safe now…

Hotch killed Foyet. There was no one out there now who wanted to harm us or kill us. There was no reason to hold onto Jack and Hotch every second of every day, and there was no reason to think up escape plans for if something bad were to happen. Nothing bad was ever going to happen again. Right? Even if it were a lie, I just needed to keep reminding myself and Hotch that we were going to be okay. I didn’t need to hold onto them, I didn’t need to think up escape plans, I didn’t need to worry to death.

But then I held Jack in my arms that night before Haley’s funeral. I held him as he sobbed, and Hotch and I quietly cried, trying not to make it worse for Jack. We were lying in bed, the three of us. It was late, and Jack managed to get a few minutes of sleep before waking up with a nightmare. He was screaming and holding his ears, and when I asked what was wrong, he told us that he could hear the gunshots. That was when Hotch and I moved closer towards each other so that we could both hold him and one another as tightly as possible. Jack just kept sobbing. No matter what we did or what we said, he couldn’t calm down. And I remembered why I needed to hold onto him. I remembered why I needed to think up those escape plans. My little man was practically torn from my arms a month and a half ago, and I promised myself that night before Haley’s funeral that I would never let go of him ever again. She was gone now, and I had to make sure that he would never get hurt like she did. I silently promised Haley that night that I would never let Jack get hurt. I would never let go of him. I owed her that. After everything she did for Hotch, Jack, and even me… I owed her that promise… It was a promise that I sadly couldn’t make to her face while she was still alive, but I still knew that she was out there somehow, and she knew.

When Jack finally fell back to sleep in my arms, and Hotch got up to wash his face clean in the bathroom, something tragic occurred to me. There were plenty of times when I thought about what it would’ve been like to lose Hotch—hell, there were times when I thought that I did lose him, and each time it happened, it completely broke me. But I didn’t lose him. The truth of the matter was, he always came back to me. We couldn’t say the same for Haley. Working in the field we did, Hotch had probably imagined a thousand horrible ways that he could’ve lost his son and Haley, but neither of us expected this. How could we?

And then I thought about how he was disappearing during the afternoons. It first happened when he thought that I ended up falling asleep while Jack was showering after swimming, so he snuck out. But I wasn’t asleep. I couldn’t sleep. I was just facing away from him, laying down, silently crying into my pillow. When he left, I called Garcia, and I asked her to track Hotch’s phone. I knew I shouldn’t have spied like that… but I was so fucking worried. No one blamed me—especially Garcia, which was why she decided to help me. We found out that he was going to the storage unit he had out in Reston, which was only about twenty minutes away. Garcia checked out the client list of the local storage unit company where he was, only to find that Hotch had some kind of secret unit out there that I had no idea about. That was when I realized something heartbreaking. Hotch didn’t move on after him and Haley broke up—he couldn’t. Even after she cheated on him, he couldn’t let go of all those years they spent together. She took most of her things with her, I was sure, but there were likely some things she neglected, so he had them stored away.

After we knew what was going on, I never stopped Hotch from leaving, or even said anything about it to him. I just stayed with Jack and I tried to help him understand what all was going on. Maybe I shouldn’t have rushed it, though. Maybe my errors were the reason he was sobbing in mine and Hotch’s arms that night before the funeral, screaming about how he could hear the gunshots.

In the morning, Hotch woke up Jack so that I could get ready on my own. I threw on the black dress that Emily pulled from my closet and brought over to the hotel yesterday, and that was it. I was done. I didn’t bother messing with my hair, though I probably should have, and I didn’t even try to clean up my face to hide my puffy eyes. All of that took too much energy—energy which I lacked. My time was better spent with Hotch, brushing his hair back with a comb and gelling it nicely with the mint scented one Morgan brought when he visited with Emily. While I was busy attending to Hotch’s hair, he was fixing Jack’s tie for him since he didn’t know how.

The room was silent. Eerily silent. It was possible that Jack was too scared to talk because he didn’t know what to say and he didn’t want to upset me and Hotch. All I knew for certain was that I couldn’t get a word out without feeling the urge to cry. I wasn’t sure how Hotch was going to make it through the funeral. I wasn’t sure if he was going to make it through. Hopefully, having me and Jack there with him would help. All I could do was hope. I felt useless and helpless.

When we arrived at the cemetery, Roy, Jessica, and the team were already waiting for us. Jack ran to his grandpa and aunt, meanwhile I sought comfort in the arms of Emily Prentiss. She held me tight, refusing to let go. I was silently thankful for that. Morgan’s hand squeezed my shoulder suddenly to let me know that he was there, too. I left Emily’s arms, quickly falling into Morgan’s. As I looked over his shoulder, I saw Hotch shaking Rossi’s hand. Hotch didn’t like hugs. In fact, up until he met me, he didn’t even like smiling or showing emotion. He was going to do everything in his power to not break, to not show emotion like he always did. That was why he didn’t accept Rossi’s open arms. He knew that if he gave into something as simple as a hug from one of his closest friends, he’d fall apart in front of everyone before the funeral could begin.

By the time everyone else had arrived in time for the start of the funeral, Hotch, Jack, and I were standing directly in front of Haley’s coffin, protruding out of the grave that had been dug for her. JJ and Garcia handled setting up the funeral with Jessica since Hotch and I were really in no position to do so. They picked out a huge, expensive, mahogany coffin that had gold flowers molded onto the sides. It was ostentatious, I’d be the first to admit. It was probably a horrible thought to have, too… But I just couldn’t stop thinking about how in an hour or so, the coffin would be six feet under, and no one would ever see those gold roses again. So, why did it matter what it looked like? Why did it matter how expensive it was? And then I saw Jessica fall to her knees beside her sister’s coffin. She let out a heavy, dreadful sob. As her fingers ran over the gold flowers, she kept saying: “I’m so sorry, Haley…” That was when I realized that it mattered to Jessica. It mattered that the last memory she would have of her sister were of those golden flowers lining the bottom of her coffin. It mattered. It was incredibly important to Jessica, therefore I couldn’t argue or question it.

Jack tugged on the hem of my dress. When I looked down, he was holding his arms out in the air, his hands clasping and opening repeatedly in a way that said: “Pick me up, please.” I gave in. I leaned down and picked up Jack, resting him on my hips as he wrapped his little legs around my waist. He adjusted his grip on Red. We nearly left the hotel without it before he realized that he wanted to hold it throughout the funeral. So, I ran back into the room to grab it while Hotch started the car. But now that we were there, his cheek resting against my shoulder, the toy dinosaur squeezed into his hands, I almost regretted bringing it. Not because it was distracting or anything, but because it broke my heart into a million pieces. It was a huge, flashing red reminder that it could have been Jack’s funeral, too. It could have been him in that coffin. It could have been me, falling to my knees while sobbing, instead of Jessica. As horrible as it was to think, I was lucky. Hotch and I were lucky. He probably couldn’t see it because he was staring at his ex-wife’s coffin, but we got lucky, all things considered. We could have lost Jack, too, but we didn’t.

Hotch snuck his arm around my waist as the funeral began. I sighed quietly and rested my head on his shoulder, the same way Jack was resting against mine. The words of the priest standing at the head of Haley’s coffin went straight through one year and out the other. I couldn’t focus on anything other than the way we were all quietly crying. Roy, Jessica, Hotch, Jack, even me… We were all puddles of tears. Our quiet sobs and sniffles were all I could hear. It was all that was clear to me. Even when Garcia started crying, I could hear that… but I never once heard the priest until the dreaded part of the humeral came.

“We will now hear from Haley’s…” the priest struggled to find the right phrasing. “Haley’s husband, Aaron, has asked to speak.” He nodded in our direction, a signal that Hotch could start whenever he was ready.

Hotch looked at me as he dug out his speech from the inside pocket of his suit. “Don’t let go of me,” he pleaded to me quietly. I nodded and pressed into his side a little more. After opening up the page he wrote his speech on, he cleared his throat and began. “W.S. Gilbert wrote, quote, ‘It’s love that makes the world go ‘round.’ If that’s true, then the world spun a little faster with Haley in it.” His hand squeezed mine as he hesitated. I squeezed back. “I first met Haley in high school. I had spotted her when I was passing by the auditorium after school, and the drama club was holding a rehearsal for their spring show. I remember seeing her in the crowd of all the other students and telling myself that she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and I promised to make it my life’s mission to marry her right then and there.” He sniffled back a quiet sob. “I started my mission by joining the drama club so that I could get close enough to talk to her since we didn’t exactly run with the same crowds at the time. She was so kind to me… She offered to run lines with me, even though I was horrible at acting. She taught me how to sword fight for the show, even though she was supposed to be the princess and I was supposed to be the pirate.” There were a few light chuckles from the crowd. “It seemed like from the get-go, she recognized what my mission was, and she was doing everything in her power to ensure that I would succeed.” He flipped the page. “Haley and I certainly had our ups and downs. We disagreed on a lot, but if there’s one thing we agreed on wholeheartedly, it was our love and commitment to our son, Jack. Haley’s love for Jack was unconditional. She would have done anything for him… and she did. She isn’t here with us today because she did what her life’s mission was, and that was protecting Jack. It pains me to know that I can’t thank her today for bringing him into this world, for loving him, protecting him, being brave for him, and caring for him when I couldn’t.” My hand squeezed his again, just a reassurance that I needed. Hotch pulled me closer to him as he continued, “I made a promise to her that I will raise Jack knowing who his mother was, how we fell in love, and how much she loved him. If Haley were here today, I’m positive that she would look at all of us and tell us not to mourn her, and instead spend our time holding our family close—” he let go of my hand before winging his arm over my shoulders. “—and loving them unconditionally, because, in the end, they are all that matter.” I rested my head against his shoulder and hugged Jack closer to my body. “The other night, as I was looking through some of her old things, I found a copy of the play we were working on when we met. The Pirates of Penzance, it was called. As I was looking through it, reading all of the different notes she made on it to help improve my acting, I came across a passage that seems fitting for this moment. ‘Oh, dry the glistening tear that dews that martial cheek. Thy loving children hear, in them thy comfort seek. With sympathetic care, their arms around thee creep, for, oh, they can not bear to see their father weep.’” He folded the paper back up in his free hand and nodded back to the priest, a sign that he was done and couldn’t find the words to properly conclude.

The priest stepped forward and thanked Hotch for sharing that story of how he and Haley met. He said that Jack was lucky to have a father like Hotch, someone who loved him just as unconditionally as Haley loved him. Hotch kept his head bowed while trying to hide the tears that were sliding down his cheek. I brought my hand up to his face and wiped them away carefully with my thumb while thinking about how brave he was to speak and share like that. I wouldn’t have had the strength in a million years to do something like that.

As the funeral wrapped up, the family was asked to put roses on top of Haley’s coffin. Hotch took Jack from me, handing me Red so that he could give his son one of the white flowers. They lined up behind Jessica, waiting on her and Roy to set their roses down and say their goodbyes. When they moved out of the way, Hotch stepped forward. Jessica walked around the coffin and approached me carefully, trying to gauge if it was alright to hug me or not. I opened my arms for her, a silent signal that I would love nothing more than to hold her in my arms, to comfort her, to love her and thank her for everything she did for me on behalf of Jack and Haley. She crashed against my chest. Peeking over her shoulder, I watched as Jack and Hotch laid their roses down side by side. Then Hotch told Jack to blow his mom a kiss. I broke down, hiding my face in the crook of Jessica’s neck, crying just as hard as she was.

I didn’t lose a sister. Hopefully, I would never have to know the pain of losing my sister… But I understood Jessica’s pain. I understood that she was suffering and that none of the men in her life—Roy and Hotch—knew how to be open with her, knew how to hug her, knew how to cry with her. Losing Hotch, Jack, or Elle was my worst nightmare. I prayed that I wouldn’t have to be in Jessica’s shoes—ever. But what I did know was that my heart was broken. I was sad for Hotch, Jack, Jessica, and Roy. I was sad for Haley. It pained me to think that Jack wasn’t going to get to grow up with a mother now. It killed me to realize that Haley would never get to see her son grow up. His birthdays, his high school graduation, his college acceptance letters, his first partner, his first break up, his college graduation, his wedding—every single part of his future, Haley wasn’t going to be there to help him through all of it. The highs and lows of life that mothers were supposed to be there for were now going to be missing a special part. Jack was going to have a hole in his life. That I understood. That was what I cried for.

I bounced Jack slightly in my arms so that I could adjust my hold on him. He was asleep against my chest and shoulder, his arms wrapped around my neck, his face hiding against my collarbone. He had been crying when he came running over to me. We had only been at the wake for about thirty minutes when Rossi pulled Hotch outside to talk, and Jack had no one else to turn to but me. So, I picked him up into my arms and consoled him as he sobbed. The team, sitting at the table with me, silently watched. They were too scared to speak or move. None of us knew what to do now except to help Jack. But now that he was asleep, the team got back to talking quietly.

JJ had been crying the hardest. Since the beginning of the funeral, she had been nothing but a puddle of tears in Will’s arms, and since we sat down, she had been silently letting the tears fall while holding his hand. I think she looked at what happened to us and she thought about how she couldn’t bear to be in Hotch’s shoes. Losing Will or Henry was her worst nightmare. She only gave birth about three weeks ago, yet she was already back at work, putting herself on the line; but the question now, with Haley’s death being a result of Hotch’s job, was it all worth it? Was it fair for her to keep her job? Was it fair to put her family at risk like that? It seemed like as we all chatted through some small talk at the wake, she was silently considering everything.

Emily snapped me out of my trance with a direct question of, “When do you think you and Hotch are coming back to work?” She hadn’t asked to put pressure on us to come back soon, or because she was trying to tell us not to go back yet, but because the team had run out of other topics. “Sorry,” she backpedaled when she realized she ruined my train of thought.

I shook my head. “It’s fine.” I shifted Jack in my arms again. Like I had said before, he was getting so big, it was hard to hold him in my arms for so long—but there was no way in hell I was letting him go. I was going to hold him, even if my arms broke. “I, um… I don’t know. There’s a lot we still have to figure out. We… I think we’re going to move… So…” Jack yawned against me, making me stop so as to not wake him up.

“Do you guys need help finding a place?” Morgan questioned, though it was more of an offer than anything else.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. A tear slid down my cheek. “I don’t know anything…”

They all stared at me. Everyone was at a loss for words. Their questions and topics had run out, and my ability to answer anything was limited. There was so much that Hotch and I needed to sort out. Like, where were we going to move? When could we get Jack into therapy? When were Hotch and I going to sleep? When were we going to head back to work? When was I going to call my parents back?

It was all a mess.

It was a mess, and we didn’t have a single answer to any of it. I wanted to find a way to put the pieces together, because I wanted to make things go back to normal, but I didn��t know how to do that when Hotch, Jack, and I were practically paralyzed. And then the worst thing imaginable happened. JJ’s phone started ringing. She sniffled and answered it before the ringtone could bother anyone any longer.

“Okay. We’ll be there as fast as possible,” she said into the phone after a minute of listening.

I shook my head insistently when the whole team looked at me. I wanted to tell them to stay, to not leave me and Hotch, to ignore the call of the psychopaths out there for just a little longer. But they had to go. They always had to go. Now I understood how Haley felt about Hotch leaving every time she needed him to stay.

“I’m so sorry,” JJ apologized quietly.

I realized that there was no way I could make them stay. I could make Morgan or Emily stay, if I really tried, but that wasn’t fair to any of them. So, I did the only thing I could. “Don’t worry about us,” I whispered. “We’ll be okay.”

“I’ll stay—” Morgan tried offering.

“No. Please. Go.”

“Sunshine—”

“We’ll see you when you get back.”

The team was silent as they all stared at me for a moment. When Jack started to stir awake, they all pushed their chairs back and stood. JJ kissed Will, Garcia kissed Kevin, and Morgan leaned over to kiss the top of my head. I forced a smile onto my face. I couldn’t give them a reason to stay; so, the stronger I looked, the easier it would be for them to leave. Emily went to tell Rossi that they were being called away after hugging my shoulder gently, making sure not to bother the half asleep Jack in my arms.

When they were gone, Hotch came back inside, taking the seat next to me, offering to take Jack until I silently refused because I didn’t want to wake him. Hotch sighed… but something was different about this one. It caught my attention almost immediately. The sigh wasn’t heavy and sad, like he was letting his emotion float off his chest, but it sounded like he was pissed about something. I didn’t understand what. Maybe it was the anger stage of grief finally hitting him like a train? Maybe something Rossi said outside upset him? Maybe the team leaving for another case got under his skin?

“What is it?” I finally asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s nothing,” he tried lying. I squinted at him. He sighed again, this time with the realization that I wasn’t going to let it go. “Sean didn’t come to the funeral. I thought he would come.”

My eyes pouted. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sick of making excuses for my brother, Y/N. I’m sick of sitting around, thinking that he’ll show up every time I need him to. I’m fucking sick and tired of looking after him—”

Jack yawned, making us both pause, thinking that he was waking up. When he nuzzled his face against my collarbone, we realized that he was still asleep.

“It’s over, Y/N. I’m done with Sean. I’m not dealing with his shit anymore. Once we get a new place and settle in, I’m going to call him and cut all ties. I swear to God, Y/N, I’m going to do it.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions quite yet, my love. Emotions are high right now, I understand, but he’s still your brother, and you still need each other—”

“And what about you and Elle, huh?”

I frowned at him. “Stop.”

He sucked in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“Can we get out of here?”

“And do what?”

“Sleep.”

I considered if he really meant it. I wondered if all the crying and talking to people had finally managed to wear the two of us out. Maybe we would finally get to sleep for once since… Well, since our world fell apart. If Hotch was offering to finally try to sleep, I was going to take him up on the offer. I wanted to give him the chance to finally rest.

“Let’s go.”

I grabbed Hotch’s hand, making sure to hold onto Jack with my other arm. We stood together. Everyone’s attention was on us as we quietly made our way out of the wake, heading towards Jessica, who was waiting to say goodbye to us. Roy was standing behind her. Jessica leaned in and kissed Jack’s head before hugging me then Hotch, telling us to call her if we needed anything. Hotch tried to say goodbye to Roy, but he wouldn’t look at either of us. Him and Hotch never had a good relationship, but now that things had gone awry with his daughter’s life, he blamed Hotch wholeheartedly, and he wasn’t afraid to let his silent behavior tell us that.

Hotch’s breath shuddered as we stepped into the parking lot. Before he could fall off his feet, I hugged my free arm under his arms in order to hold him up. He finally let go. After holding everything back all day, he finally released every emotion building in his chest that he felt he had to hide from the world. I held onto him just as tightly as I was holding onto Jack. I was so surprised he hadn’t woken up yet. With Hotch sobbing against me, shaking as he did so, I was working overtime to hold them both up. I couldn’t let go. If I let go of Hotch, he was going to collapse onto the concrete. I had to hold him. I had to do it forever or we’d both stop breathing.

And then I felt his fingers fist around the fabric of my sleeves. “I can’t do this…” he finally admitted.

“It’s okay, baby.”

“We have to get out of that house.”

“We will.” I kissed the top of his head. “We will.”

We stayed there for another few minutes before Jack lifted his head off my shoulder, turned his hands into fists, and rubbed his eyes to get rid of his sleep. Hotch turned away from us so that he could wipe away his tears. He didn’t want Jack to see him cry as hard as he was. It was okay to let his son know that crying was a good emotional response, but sobbing like that was entirely different.

With Jack awake now, we decided to make our way back to the hotel so that the three of us could finally sleep. We helped Jack change into his pajamas since he was only half awake. By the time he was ready for bed, he was practically asleep again. Hotch and I changed silently after tucking him in. Jack was hogging the right side of the bed, so Hotch and I cuddled close to each other on the left side, my back pressed tightly against his chest, his arms winged around me for warmth and comfort, our hands and fingers tangled together. Hotch kept kissing my neck and cheek every so often. And every time he did so, I felt my heart skip a beat. His love was the only thing giving me happiness through this whole ordeal. Being with him gave me a reason to keep pushing on.

“I love you,” he finally whispered into my ear before we both finally drifted asleep.

In the morning, I woke up only after Hotch and Jack had gotten up and ready for the day. I didn’t realize that at first, though, of course. When I opened my eyes, I found that the room was empty, giving me reason to immediately sit up and race around the room in search of clues of whether or not they were safe, or where they had gone. Nothing. So, I did the obvious thing by grabbing my phone and texting Hotch.

To Aaron Hotchner: Where are you?”

Nothing for ten minutes. I was biting my nails nervously while pacing around the room. I didn’t understand where they were, or why they left in the first place. Were they safe? Was something wrong with Jack? I didn’t understand what was happening.

To Aaron Hotchner: Baby, answer me.

Still nothing for another few minutes. Finally, when my paranoia got the best of me, I decided that I was going to call Garcia to have her track his phone again. Maybe I was being a little too overprotective. Maybe. But I wasn’t taking any chances when it came to my family. Yet, as I was about to contact Garcia, I heard the hotel door unlock. I stepped into the entryway just in time to see Hotch holding the door wide open so that Jack could run in with a box of doughnuts from Leonard’s. My breath sputtered as I released the urge to cry. Despite the fact that Hotch was balancing a cup holder with two coffees for us and a hot chocolate for Jack, I jumped into his arms, hiding my face in the crook of his neck.

“Woah,” he gasped, stumbling somewhat.

“You weren’t answering your phone…” I mumbled.

“I’m sorry, I had my hands full with the cups and holding Jack. I felt it buzzing, but I couldn’t get to it.”

“You weren’t answering your phone,” I repeated breathlessly, trying to find the relief of the situation and holding him in my arms again.

“I’m here. It’s okay.” He cooed he with a gentle shush for another moment before helping me off him so that he could kiss me. “I love you.”

“I love you,” I said before kissing him back.

“Gross,” Jack giggled from his bed further into the room.

Hotch and I let out gentle laughs. He closed the door behind him while I took the cup holder from him and carried it to the beds. Jack already had the box of dozen doughnuts open beside him, and his fingers were dancing over them as he debated which one he wanted. I stole the one I wanted before he could grab it. As he looked at me with his jaw agape, almost like he was offended that I chose before he did, I smiled and winked at him. He sighed and grabbed the chocolate glazed one in the corner.

“To what do I owe this surprise?” I asked Hotch.

“Well, I figured that today’s going to be busy, so it’s probably best if we have a good, sugary, and caffeinated breakfast to get us through it.”

“A busy day?”

He nodded. “We have to pack up the house.” He grabbed a maple bar.

I eyed him suspiciously. Was he sure about this? The funeral was only yesterday. Was he ready to pack up the house that he created with Haley? Was he ready to say goodbye to all of those memories? We hadn’t even put the house up for sale, yet, and we hadn’t gone house hunting yet. Where were we supposed to go? When he said he wanted to get out of that house, I thought he meant maybe in a week once emotions were a little more serene.

It seemed that it didn’t matter what I thought, though, because when we all finished our doughnuts and drinks, I got showered, changed into comfortable clothes, and then we drove to the house. Hotch told Jack and I to wait in the car for a bit. A few minutes later, he poked his head out the door and waved us in. When Jack and I walked up to the house, I held onto his hand as tightly as I could. There were already stacks and stacks of empty brown cardboard boxes and clear plastic storage boxes. That was probably another reason he had been going out to the storage unit over the past couple of days. He had been planning this. I supposed that I shouldn’t have been shocked.

Hotch gave one of the clear boxes to Jack. “Why don’t you start putting all of your toys from your toy room in here, bud.”

With a giddy skip, Jack took the box and ran down the hallway to head to his toy room… The stairs were there. The stairs that Hotch and Foyet tumbled down, leaving trails and pools of blood, Hotch’s head even leaving a dent in one of the walls. I turned to Hotch with the concern of Jack going over there on his own. Hotch calmed me down with the reassurance the crime scene cleaners had already gotten rid of all the blood, and Morgan patched up the wall for us. There was nothing to worry about.

“I even tied our bedroom shut to make sure that Jack can’t get in there,” he reassured me. So, that was why he asked us to wait in the car. He was baby proofing our house and making sure that there was no trace of what had happened for Jack to see. “Why don’t we start with the office?”

I grabbed Hotch’s hand. “I’ll do our room.”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t want you to do that alone.”

“And I don’t want you to go in there at all.”

“Okay.” He brushed my hair out of my face with his free hand. “But, if it gets to be too much, tell me.”

“Deal.”

Hotch and I headed upstairs together with a few of the cardboard boxes. When we reached the top of the steps, we let go of each other, turning different directions to head to opposite sides of the house. Like Hotch said, our bedroom door was tied shut to make sure that Jack couldn’t get in, but it was easy enough to figure out the knot, then slide through. When I stepped inside, I took a moment to stare at the spot where we found Haley. The blood was gone. They did a really good job of getting it all out of the carpet, and even the comforter on the bed had been cleaned. There was no sign that anything horrible had happened there. Nothing but the flashes in my memory.

I gulped and set the boxes down. I started with our clothes in the closet. Everything from Hotch’s old college clothes that I stole from time to time, to my work clothes, to the black box and everything else stores away in the safe. Cleaning out the closet was the easy part. All I had to do was repeat the process of folding clothes over and over again until they were all stored away. Altogether, mine and Hotch’s clothes only took two boxes. I put the black box and all of our other safe stuff at the bottom of my box.

After the closet, I moved to the bathroom. I started with cleaning out the shower. Our shampoos, conditioners, soaps, shavers, everything else, they all made their way into another brown cardboard box. Then, I cleaned off the counter. Toothbrushes, toothpaste, deodorants, the whole shebang. Collecting all of the bottles and containers in the bathroom was easy enough. It was just time consuming. But once it was all done, including the drawers and cupboards under the sink, all I had to do was put all of our towels on top for buffering and protection.

It was so weird that we could pack up our entire lives up so fast. It felt like only yesterday that Hotch and I were moving everything between my old apartment and the house. He was so excited to get me moved in. He wanted it to just be settled because he was afraid that the longer it took, the more time I had to reconsider and backpedal on my decision. He wanted me to live with him, and he wanted to make it happen as fast as possible. But now all of that hard work was being undone. Just as quickly as I had moved in, we were all being moved out.

A few hours passed, and I managed to practically finish packing up the entire bedroom. All that was left to do was have someone move the furniture out. Knowing Morgan, the second he heard that we were moving, he was going to offer to do it, and once he would offer, Emily, Rossi, Reid, and Garcia would all ask to help, too. They were going to turn it into a spectacle. I knew everything about them and their behaviors, which meant I knew exactly how they were going to behave during that hypothetical day of moving. Rossi and Morgan were going to do the heavy lifting, meanwhile Emily was going to insist that she could do it, too, but she would be too busy trying to hold Garcia back from going to the mall just to buy us all knew furniture. Reid would be in the corner, calculating all the ways to move the furniture out of the rooms and the house, and then he would already be planning the best way mathematically and scientifically to set up the furniture in the new house. The weird part about imagining all of that was that it brought a smile to my face. I liked thinking about how chaotic it would be, but how it would also be fun, and a great distraction from the shit in our lives.

When there was a knock at the door, I left the pile of boxes behind so that I could crack it open to investigate what was going on. Hotch was standing there, a smile on his face. “Lunch?”

“Let me guess, Jack asked if we could have mac and cheese.”

“What other option could there have possibly been?”

I laughed. “Touché.”

I stepped out of the room, making sure not to open the door wide enough for Hotch to get a good look inside. Like I said, I didn’t want him in there. I didn’t even want him near it. That wasn’t wrong of me. After seeing him fall to his knees and break down while holding Haley’s dead body on that carpet, I had every right to bar him from going in there. He didn’t need to relive that. Humans had a natural curiosity for the grotesque, and Hotch was no exception. He wanted a reminder of what happened, even if it wasn’t a conscious decision, which I was going to assume it wasn’t, considering what happened.

Because the dining room table had been destroyed during Hotch and Foyer’s fight throughout the house, we had to eat around the kitchen island. Hotch lifted Jack up and sat him on the marble. While I made the crappy mac and cheese for the three of us, Hotch turned on the radio on the windowsill, and turned it to our favorite channel. They weren’t playing Bohemian Rhapsody, which was somewhat of a let down, to be honest, but they were playing Blackbird by The Beatles, giving Hotch a reason to pause. He loved that song. He loved The Beatles, period, but Blackbird was one of his favorite lullaby songs. He would sing it in the shower sometimes when he thought I was asleep or elsewhere in the house. But in the context of the emotional week we had, it was a depressing song. So, I changed it before either of us could crack again. We found another channel that was playing a song Jack liked, so we settled on that, and I turned back to the stove.

When the food was ready, I dumped equal portions into three separate bowls, then handed them out. Hotch thanked me with a kiss against my temple. Jack, meanwhile, kicked his legs against the side of the kitchen island while he happily and quietly ate his lunch. The kitchen was silent. That was until I asked Jack if he finished packing up all of his toys. He set his empty bowl to the side and nodded.

“Do you want to start on your room now?” I asked, brushing his hair back out of his face. He nodded again. “Okay. Grab some boxes from the living room.”

“Do you need help getting them up there?” Hotch asked.

“No, I can do it,” Jack insisted while his dad helped him off the kitchen island and onto his feet.

“What do you say to Y/N for making lunch?”

“Thank you, Y/N.” He hugged my knees.

I kissed the top of his head. “You’re welcome, little man.” When we parted, Jack ran to go get boxes, then head upstairs. Once we knew he was gone, Hotch and I finished our last couple of bites of mac and cheese, then collected up all of the dishes and took them to the sink to be washed. “I finished the bedroom.”

“Closet and bathroom, too?” he inquired, surprised.

“Done.”

“The office is done, too.”

“We’ll just have to do the main level tomorrow.”

He nodded an agreement, then, for a bit, we were silent. Finally, he spoke up again. “So, I’ve been looking for a house—”

“In this neighborhood, right?”

Hotch cocked a brow at me. “What?”

“We need to stay close because we need Jessica’s help with Jack now that he’s going to be living with us permanently. And he needs to go to the same school so that he can keep his friends.”

“You’ve already thought about this, haven’t you?”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

Hotch handed me the dish to put in the dishwasher. “Well, that only eliminates one of the five houses I’ve been looking at.”

“It needs to have a backyard big enough for Jack to play soccer in.”

I didn’t want Jack going to the park anymore—at least not yet. Allowing him to go to the park would just make him an easy target. I wasn’t going to take that chance. That detail narrowed Hotch’s list down to three houses, since one of them was an apartment and the other had a backyard barely big enough for a dog to shit on.

I didn’t have any other specificities on my mind when it came to looking for a house. So, the next step was sitting down in the living room with Hotch, looking at the three houses that were now being considered, while discussing each of the pros and cons. One house was a block closer to Jessica, but two of the houses were closer to our work and Jack’s school. We decided that it was better to take the house closer to Jessica, since we were never sure when we would have to be called away for work. Trading up ten extra minutes to work and Jack’s school for convenience of having Jessica come over at a moment’s notice or dropping Jack off in the middle of the night, was well worth it.

Hotch showed me the details of the house we had narrowed our choices down to. It had three bedrooms— a master bedroom and home office for me and Hotch, and a bedroom for Jack. There were three bathrooms—two upstairs (one in the master bedroom and one between the other two rooms), one downstairs between the living room and the dining room. The best parts were the huge backyard for Jack, and the garage big enough for both of our cars.

It was perfect. It was everything we wanted, everything we were hoping for, and the good news was that we could visit it soon, then, if we liked it, we could move in as fast as possible. I was glad. Rushing to buy a house wasn’t exactly ideal, but under the circumstances, I wasn’t sure that anyone could blame us.

“I’ll find a time when we can head over there to check it out,” Hotch offered.

I nodded. “Okay.” I kissed his cheek while combing his hair back a couple of times with my fingers. “I’m going to check on Jack’s progress with packing up his room.”

“Thank you, baby.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

I pecked his lips with a gentle kiss before leaving to head upstairs. It was oddly quiet when I reached the top of the steps. I expected to hear Jack shuffling around his room, trying to organize everything away into boxes, just like he insisted he could do on his own. But there was nothing. The office just next to his room was already packed up into boxes and organized into the corner where Jack’s secret place was, but the lid was open, so I was sure that he wasn’t hiding in there. And Hotch and I had tied off the door to our bedroom to make sure he wouldn’t go in there… That meant he had to be in his room. I just didn’t understand why I couldn’t hear him packing until I peeked into his rom to see him curled up on his bed. I furrowed my brows in confusion when I saw that his room looked untouched. He hadn’t packed a single thing yet.

“Jack?” I sat down on the edge of his bed. He hid his face in his pillows so that I couldn’t see him crying. My heart broke a little in my chest as I carefully reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “Come here,” I cooed, trying to make him look at me. He hesitated for a moment. “Please.” He finally gave in after letting out a quiet sob into his pillow. Jack sat up, and for the briefest of moments, I saw just how hard he had been trying to hold back his tears. “Come here, little man…” I held my arms open for him. Slowly, Jack moved so that he was sitting on my lap and hugging me. I wrapped my arms around him as tightly as I could. “Is it about your mom?” He nodded against my touch. I tried to ignore how his tears were already soaking my shirt.

“I miss her,” he cried.

“I know you do, little man.”

His hands turned into fists around the fabric of my shirt on my back. I recognized that he was trying to give me a Superman hug, but he didn’t have the strength for it. “I want her to come home…”

I bit back a sob as I felt the tears start to fall down my cheeks again. We had spent so long crying over the past few days, I thought that none of us had the energy to keep going. I didn’t even think there was enough in us to keep creating tears. Yet, somehow, while holding Jack in my arms as he sobbed and cried out for his mom, I felt the tears return.

One. Two. Three.

She had been on our floor. Dead. I could still hear her voice as she told Jack one last time how much she loved him. He had no idea what was about to happen. We had all heard the gunshots over the phone, but Jack had been in the house when it happened, and he probably had no idea where his mom and dad were. He had been hiding in his secret spot, probably scared to death. And he had been so brave for us. We thought that he just didn’t understand enough to know why his mom was gone, but since the funeral, I could tell that he knew. He knew that those three shots killed his mom, and he would have been next if it weren’t for his dad.

“Do you want to know something cool about your mom?” I asked him quietly. He nodded.

Throughout this whole ordeal, I couldn’t stop thinking about that one lie Elle told me when I was a kid in order to comfort me about death. She told me that we all turned into stars when we died. We would go up in the sky, and we’d become these bright bits of light that would protect our loved ones. It took me years to realize that she had lied about the stars the same way parents lie to their kids about Santa or the Tooth Fairy. It’s to protect them, but to also give them some kind of youthful hope. Whenever things like this happened and I would miss someone dearly, I’d try to trick myself into believing that they were a star now, watching and protecting us. When it came to Haley, I had been praying that was the truth because I just wanted Hotch and Jack to still have some part or some memory of her.

“So, when we said goodbye to her yesterday, something kind of cool happened.” I rocked him gently in my arms, taking in a deep breath to stop my crying. “When you put that flower down for her, she turned into a star, and she flew up to the sky. Do you know why?” He shook his head against my chest. “She did that so that she can watch over you and Dad all the time— not just at night. The stars are always there, even though you might not be able to see them… Just like your mom. Is that cool?”

He nodded through a heavy sniffle. “So, she’s watching us now?”

“Yeah.”

“She’ll always be there?”

“Always.”

He squeezed me harder. “And you’ll always be here?”

I hesitated for a moment. There was no guarantee that I would always be there for him, but I was going to try my fucking hardest to never leave him. I was going to do everything in my power to be there for him. “Always,” I repeated. “I’d never leave you or Dad. Ever.”

He parted from me slightly, giving me the opportunity to wipe his face clean with my palms, clearing away the tears that had been streaming down his face and soaking my shirt. I forced a smile onto my face. Being strong for him was hard, yet being able to fake it came effortlessly.

And then the doorbell rang. I sighed, looking to the doorway, debating if I should go answer it, or if Hotch would, or if I should go answer it with Hotch. I glanced back at Jack to see that he was already laying down again, his eyes closed. At least he wasn’t crying now. I decided that it was best if I just let him sleep, and I’d pack up his room later or tomorrow. So, until then, I quietly snuck out. I made sure to close his bedroom door behind me on my way out. When I started heading downstairs, I heard Hotch open the door and greet the one and only Erin Strauss. I paused. Please, of all people on planet Earth, why did it have to be her?

“Please, have a seat,” Hotch offered to her just as I was turning into the living room. He spotted me entering. “Hey. Is he okay?”

I took a moment to look between Hotch and Strauss, both of them staring at me with intrigue. Hotch wanted to know if his son was alright, meanwhile, Strauss wanted to know what the hell we were talking about. Well, my answer made things pretty plain, “He was crying, so we talked for a bit. He’s sleeping now.”

Hotch sighed and wiped his brows. “Okay. I’ll pack up his room later.”

“No. I’ve got it.”

He sent me a thankful smile.

“How are the two of you doing? That’s the real question,” Strauss said.

As I moved to sit down beside him, he turned his attention back to Strauss. He caught me and pulled me onto his lap before I could escape to take another seat in the room. It was odd to be so intimate in front of her. Considering that she tried to ruin both of our careers only a year ago, using our relationship as a reason to do so, I was shocked that Hotch would even touch me while in the same room as her. Granted, it was our home. She came to see us while we were mourning. Hotch needed to touch and hold me, and he probably needed to do it in front of Strauss to prove a point to himself and to her. We weren’t going anywhere. We weren’t a fling. We weren’t going to ignore our feelings because she didn’t like it.

I knew Hotch well enough to know that he was probably telling himself that if anyone could stick by his side during a time like this, then they were the one. I knew he was thinking it because I was considering the same thing. He hadn’t pushed me away yet. He could have closed himself off from me entirely, like he did after Foyet stabbed him, but he chose to pull me close and keep me there. He wasn’t going to ruin this. He wasn’t going to ruin us when everything else in his life was falling apart. Because of that, he was going to hold me on his lap in front of our boss, regardless of what she thought about us.

“We’re… holding up…” Hotch answered reluctantly. “You said that there was something to discuss with me?”

Strauss nodded. “Ah. Yes.” She reached into her briefcase that was resting against her ankles, and she passed a piece of paper to Hotch. He only let go of me with one hand to take it.

I paused when I saw what it was.

“This is retirement,” Hotch said with a mixture of shock and confusion.

“I’ve talked with the Director,” she explained, “and we agree that there’s no reason that you should have to return to the Bureau. We can offer you full pension and benefits. It’s a good offer for you and your family.”

“Are you saying that you want us to leave the BAU?” I questioned. Were we really doing this all over again? I was so confused. Did she not learn her lesson last time? She couldn’t get rid of us, no matter how hard she tried—

“Not you, Agent Greenaway. This is only for him. And, I’m obviously not going to make the choice for you, Agent Hotchner, but… I’m offering you a way out.”

“Who would run the BAU?”

“Agent Morgan’s temporary promotion has actually exceeded our expectations,” she replied. “The BAU would be well cared for, if you decide to step down, Aaron. The team would be together, just like you always wanted; and you could be with your son. I think that it’s a win-win.”

“But, what about—”

“When would you like my decision by?” Hotch asked patiently.

Strauss stared at him blankly. “I thought I would be leaving with one.”

Leaving with an answer? She just dropped the retirement bomb on us while we were still grieving the death of Haley. It seemed pretty fucked up, not going to lie. The least she could have done was given Hotch the opportunity to think about it. This was a lot to consider. Hotch and I loved our jobs, I used to think that there was never a chance in a million years that either of us would leave the BAU unless we were dead or too old to walk. But Strauss was right, considering the circumstances, maybe it was time for Hotch to focus on Jack instead of the job. I understood why she was doing this, I didn’t appreciate the how she was going about it, however.

“I would just like to weigh all of my options for a bit,” he responded.

“Whatever you need.”

Strauss stood to take her leave before she could become any more of an inconvenience than she already was. Hotch patted my hip, a silent signal for me to stand, so I did. We led Strauss to the door, saying our goodbyes, being polite because we really didn’t have the time or energy to do anything else. We were tired. Not tired, in the sense that we didn’t get enough sleep—though that was still true—but we were tired, in the sense that we were weak mentally and physically. Our emotions had run out, and our mental tolls had been spent. Erin Strauss wasn’t worth the stress. The sooner she was gone, the sooner we could move on with the grieving process and helping Jack.

Hotch closed the door once she was gone, and the alarmed beeped as it was set. We took a second to stand in the doorway in silence, reflecting on what had happened, and what decision Hotch was possibly going to make. It wouldn’t come lightly. He needed to turn it over in his head for a few days at least before deciding. Either way, he would tell me his decision before going to Strauss and the Director.

“So… what do you think?” he finally asked.

I shook my head, turning away from him so that I could make my way into the kitchen. “It’s your decision, Aaron.”

“But I want to know what you think.”

He followed me around as I responded, “I think that you love your job as much as you love me and Jack. I think that you hated it the last time we didn’t have our jobs at the BAU.” I folded up a towel lying around on the kitchen island. “But I also think that you keep getting hurt.” He took the towel from me, then hung it on the rack on the cabinet under the sink. “Our family keeps getting hurt, but now we have Jack to look after all on our own, and we can’t afford to keep putting him through all of this.” I sighed and looked at him. “Maybe it is time to take a step back, Aaron. Maybe it doesn’t make sense for you to be out in the field anymore.” I braced my hands on his shoulders, squeezing gently to let him know that I was there for him, no matter what. “That’s what I think.” I caressed his cheek with my thumb. “What about you? What do you think?”

“I don’t know. Genuinely. It’s all so…”

“Sudden?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m going to have to think about it.”

“Take your time. No one will rush you into making the decision. I promise.”

Hotch turned away from me, slipping out of my light touches so that he could grab his phone and call Jessica. He had apparently scheduled a time to see the house tomorrow, but we didn’t want Jack to go with us, so we were asking that Jessica could look after him a bit while we were gone. As usual, she didn’t care. It seemed she was actually excited to be looking after Jack again. Since Hotch and I had been taking time off from work, there really was no reason for Jessica to babysit, but that didn’t mean that we weren’t allowing her to see him. It was just that things were so chaotic, it never came up. But now, the perfect opportunity had arisen.

The next morning, we headed back to the house so that we could start packing up Jack’s room before we had to leave to see the new house we were eyeing. Around eleven, Jessica showed up, ringing the front door. I was busy wrangling Jack since he just had another leftover doughnut from the day prior, so Hotch went to greet Jessica while still laughing at my struggle. I rolled my eyes at him.

“I’m… gonna… getcha!” I leapt around the corner of the couch, catching Jack trying to hide under the cushions, as if it weren’t obvious. Jack laughed and kicked at me as I tickled him. “Gotcha!”

“Stop!” he pleaded playfully through a laugh.

“Never!” I lifted him up and swung him through the air. He kept giggling and kicking at me, but it didn’t matter because I wasn’t going to relent on my attack. This was the first time I had heard him laugh in forever. I loved my little man’s laugh. There was no way I was going to give up on making him laugh now. “Give me a kiss and I’ll stop.” Jack grabbed my shoulders to hold himself steady, then leaned in to kiss my cheek quickly. I smiled and stopped tickling him. That was when I saw Hotch and Jessica watching us. “Go say hi to Aunt Jessica,” I whispered to him, setting him down on his feet.

“Hi, buddy!” Jessica cheered. She knelt down just in time to catch Jack in her arms. “The grownups have to talk for a second, but I hear that you still have to pack up some stuff. Why don’t you head upstairs and I’ll join you in a bit?”

“Okay,” Jack agreed, wiggling out of her arms.

We all watched for a moment as he ran off, his light up sneakers clomping down the hallway, then up the steps on the opposite side of the house.

“Alright, you two, fess up. What’s wrong? Something’s clearly off.”

Hotch and I turned to Jessica with wide, confused eyes. How the hell did she know that something was wrong, beyond the fact that we were still upset and stressed about everything going on. We weren’t even being off. Were we? I thought we were behaving adequately, given the circumstances. But How decided to give into Jessica’s prying. She was a lot like Haley in the sense that neither of them stopped prying into something once they were made aware of it, It seemed it ran in the family.

“The Bureau has offered me retirement,” Hotch answered.

“What did you say?”

“I haven’t given them an answer yet. Between Jack, the move, the team, even Y/N,” he looked over at me, “there’s just a lot to consider.” He turned back to Jessica. “You know, Jack needs me more now more than ever. That means being here full time, because I would never in a million years dream of asking Y/N to leave the FBI, too. I would have to put all my time and energy into being a dad—and I don’t mind that… I just… After Haley and I broke up, I didn’t get to see him very often, and that was hard, but I knew that at least he had his mom. But now he doesn’t… And right now, he really needs his dad. Which leaves me in a tough spot, because I don’t know how to leave the job I love in order to just sit around all day, every day. Even if it is for Jack.”

“Listen, Aaron,” Jessica began. “We both know that you and Haley split up for a multitude of reasons, but we also know that not a single one of those reasons is because you two stopped loving each other. Your job just got in the way. Now, you’ve found someone who is in the same boat as you, so your relationship with them is never at stake. But I understand that you feel like your relationship with your son is at stake now, the same way it was with Haley. You won’t lose him for choosing your job, Aaron. You won’t lose him because you have to chase the bad guys. You’ll lose him if you stop living your life because you stopped doing what you love. If you’re worried about someone looking after Jack, don’t be. I’m willing to look after him every time you guys need to go off to work. I mean it. My job’s flexible. My in-person hours are limited, and I can come and go as I please. It’s easier for me to be here on a whim than anyone else. Jack’s my nephew, and the two of you are my family… I want to do this for you guys and Haley.” She looked over at me. “I appreciate that you’ve been good to Jack, and you always treated Haley fairly and with respect. Not many people in your position are mature enough to do so. For that, I have no reason to tell you guys that I wouldn’t look after Jack. I love him, and I can afford to give up my TV dinners and wine to look after him. The two of you can’t give up your jobs ever, and I understand that.”

“Jessica, we appreciate that, but we can’t ask—”

“You can. And you should.” She reached out to hold his hands. “For Haley.”

“Okay,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

“We should get going,” he said more to me than her. Their hands parted, so that he could hold mine. “We’ll be home in about an hour.”

“No worries. Take all the time you need.”

I let Hotch pull me along through the house. I threw a smile in Jessica’s direction, silently thanking her for watching Jack, talking to Hotch, and offering to help us out. She was an angel. She didn’t have to do any of this for us, but she wanted to, and I knew that we were both grateful for that, though Hotch clearly wasn’t sure how to respond. He didn’t take offers like Jessica’s well normally. He didn’t know how to accept people’s help or love, and sometimes that was okay, but, recently, we needed all the love and help we could get. Sooner or later, Aaron Hotchner was going to have to learn that there were people in his life that weren’t going to disappear. There were people who loved him unconditionally. There were people willing to climb mountains for him. And at the front of each of those lines would be me, waiting for whatever he needed.

The house was perfect, just like we had anticipated that it would be. It fit all of our needs, and it was a great place for us to raise Jack together. I could see us being happy there. Truly. In the other house, it always felt like I was living someone else’s life—like I was living Haley’s life. I had moved into her home that she chose and decorated herself. There were things that Hotch had changed over time in order to make it more his home than theirs, but it just never felt like us. Now that Haley was gone, as depressing as it was, we could make this ours.

Sometimes it felt wrong to be moving so fast. Really. I’d take a step back from the moment, and I’d be reminded that she had only just died a few days ago, and that maybe it was wrong to already be asking the questions of: How were we going to move on? How were Hotch and I going to raise Jack? Where were we going to move? How could we turn the life that used to be hers into the life that was now supposed to be mine? But then I was reminded that we couldn’t stay in a hotel forever. At some point or another, we were really going to have to ask ourselves those questions anyhow. With how desperate Hotch was to get out of that house, it made sense that we were already asking all of the important questions. We had moped around for long enough. It wasn’t time to move on, but it was time to escape the horrors of what happened.

The only downside to the perfect house of our dreams was the price that came with it. The mortgage was ridiculous. If Hotch retired from the FBI, our income would decrease by a lot, even with the offer Strauss gave us that included pension. I wouldn’t be able to afford that house on my own. The only reason Hotch had the other house in the first place was because him and Haley bought it back when he was still a prosecutor, making nearly double what we made at the FBI. He had that money saved up, and it helped him pay the mortgage. This new house, though… We couldn’t afford it if he gave into Strauss’s offer. That was the sad truth.

It was disappointing because we really loved it, and we thought that it was possible to start our new lives there together; but it obviously made the choice for him. If we bought the house, he had to stay with the BAU. If he left the BAU, we probably had to buy that apartment. Neither of us wanted that apartment. That option only crossed Hotch’s mind originally because he was grasping at straws for places that made sense for us. Realistically, if we didn’t want—or, technically, need—a backyard for Jack, an apartment would have worked because it was safer than a house. Someone like Foyet wouldn’t be able to find us in a sea of other apartments. Even if someone did find an apartment we could potentially move into, the place had security in the lobby, security cameras in the elevator and every hallway, and there were neighbors who could come to our aid in case of emergency. For that reason, apartments were nice. But it wasn’t what we wanted. We wanted that house.

“I need a bit to think about it,” was all Hotch said to me as we pulled up to our house again. He dropped me off so that he could “think about it” alone. As much as it pained me, I didn’t protest. He needed to be alone for a bit. I didn’t blame him for needing some time to take to himself, to ponder all of the choices he had to make, and everything he felt he needed to do for me and Jack. It was a lot. It was more than he deserved. Though he knew that I would always be there for him and support his decisions, sometimes it was better to do it on his own then come to me about it afterwards. I needed that same space after our huge fight after Foyet stabbed him. Since he was so understanding with me during that time, I could be understanding with him during this tough time.

When I walked inside the house, I found Jessica and Jack watching TV together on the sofa. I paused when I saw what they were watching. Home videos of Haley and Hotch’s wedding. I saw her face, and I immediately felt the tears return. I was so fucking sick of crying at every mention of her name, but seeing her face again was ten times worse than hearing her in reference, and I couldn’t believe how painful it was. Hotch looked so happy back then. Haley used to tell me that Hotch never smiled around her the way he smiled around me, but that video Jack and Jessica were watching proved her wrong. The smile plastered to his face in that montage was the same smile he wore after I told him I loved him for the first time.

“I didn’t realize that you guys were back already,” Jessica said to me after quickly turning the TV off. I stared at the blank screen. “Sorry. Jack found the VHS tapes in the desk over there,” she pointed to the far left wall, “and he asked if I knew how to play them.” Jack came running up to me, crashing against my legs, hugging my knees because I hadn’t offered to pick him up. Jessica pried him off of me. “Why don’t you go pack up all of your toys in your room, Jack.” He ran off after letting out a mild protest that neither Jessica not I responded to. “Where’s Aaron?” she inquired once Jack was gone.

“He left to take some time to himself,” I croaked, snapping myself out of my trance

“He just needs some more time to mourn,” she reasoned.

“I know.”

“He’ll be himself again, eventually.”

“I know.”

She hesitated for a moment. “Do you want to talk?”

I looked at her. “How are you functioning right now? How are you breathing? Walking, talking, smiling, living, keeping up with Jack? How are you doing it?”

“I’m not. I’m just really good at pretending.”

“I didn’t even know her all that well, and I can’t even pretend. I try to smile, and I find myself just falling apart again.”

Jessica sighed quietly. “I know that I have to for that little boy upstairs. I know that I just have to wipe away my tears, hide my aching heart, and throw a smile onto my face because if I don’t, I’ll just break… And if I break… I’m not sure if I’ll ever stop crying. So, I bottle it up. I hold it all back until I can get home, lay down, stare at my ceiling, and then think of the good times until I can fall asleep.” She scratched her hair. “There’s this short second every morning when I wake up when I forget what happened. I don’t remember that I lost my sister. I don’t remember that I’m going to be an only child for the rest of my life. And I’m happy. I can find the strength to genuinely smile for the shortest moment… And then I remember. It all comes flooding back, and it overwhelms me. I stare at my ceiling again, and I think to myself that I don’t want to live in a world where I don’t have my sister anymore. But when I look at the picture of Jack on my bedside table, I’m reminded of why I’m still here. I tell myself that Haley wouldn’t want me to give up. She would want to know that her son will at least get to grow up with a loving father and aunt—and you, someone who loves him just as vividly as Hotch and I do. I’m here because Jack needs me to be, and because Haley would want me to be.” She put a hand on my shoulder. “We’re not alone in this, Y/N. Jack has us. I have you, Hotch, and my father. You and Hotch have all of us. No one is alone. If you feel like you need to fall apart in order to get through this, then fall apart, because I will be there to help you and Hotch pick up the pieces. Because that’s what family’s for.”

I sniffled and hugged her tightly. “Thank you.” That was all I could muster the strength to say. She had just poured her heart out to me, giving me a whole speech about coping, depression, love, and how I was her family, and all I could fucking say was “thank you.” I was so pathetic…

Jessica nodded against my shoulder. “I want you to know something,” she said while parting from our embrace. “If Hotch didn’t have you, I don’t think he would even be up on his feet right now. I don’t think Jack would have any hope that things will get better, if it weren’t for you. I should be the one thanking you.”

“I—”

“Jack told me what you said about Haley turning into a star. I think it’s a lovely story.”

“My sister told me that story when I was younger.”

“She sounds like a great person.”

“She is.”

“Don’t take her for granted, Y/N. Take it from me.”

I paused. I didn’t even get the chance to take Elle’s love for granted anymore. One day, she just up and left without a word, leaving me behind to ask myself what the hell happened. Missing her hurt like a bitch. There were times when I thought I would never get over how much it hurt to not have Elle around. But I at least had the luck of knowing that she was still out there, alive, and doing something she loved with her life—whatever that was. Haley was gone, and Jessica never got to say goodbye. Only, with Haley, Jessica knew that she would never get a random chance later on in life to say goodbye to her sister one last time.

“I should go,” she said quietly. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

I watched as she grabbed her purse and coat from the hangers next to the front door. “Thank you for watching Jack while we were gone. I know Hotch appreciates it, too.”

Jessica smiled at me, one hand on the door, her other hand holding her things. “He loves you a lot, Y/N. He loved Haley, too, but not like this. They tried. Don’t get me wrong, they really tried; but I’ve never seen him like this before. He loves you. Don’t take that for granted, either.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

She smiled at me again before leaving.

I was never going to take Aaron Hotchner or his love for granted. Ever. Especially after what happened, I knew that there would never be another day in our lives where I wouldn’t tell him: “I love you, I love, I love you…” as many times as I could.

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

criminal minds family: @peggy1999​ @gorgeousdarkangel​ @alex--awesome--22​ @oceaneblu​ @brithedemonspawn​ @absolutemarveltrash​ @bshelley322​@rousethemouse​ @sunshinepower17​

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds smut #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine

[roses-ruby]

{Bunny Cam}

Jungkook x Female Reader

Genre: Stalker AU, Angst, Smut, Mature

Warnings: Masturbation, Oral (Male receiving), Sex but not really, Obsessive/Possessive behavior, Toxic relationships, Yandere, Cursing, Spanking, Homophobia, Mentions of a slur, Mentions of gore, Murder, People being shitty

Word Count: 14,242

Summary: He watches when you sleep, he knows if you’re awake. He knows if you’ve been bad or good, so be bad only if you dare.

A/N: Lmao, the summary fucking sucks akfbkfbouhfo (so does the story). I planned this for kookie’s birthday but I wasn’t finished so fuck me. This is pretty dark so please be careful and make sure you read the warning! Edited but I’m always a dumbass so let me know if you find any mistakes. Also let me know what ya’ll think🥺 As always, enjoy!

He’d been at this for a while.

Well, a while could mean a considerable number of things. Let’s say he’s been at this for a long time; more accurately 3 years. He had your schedule memorized to a fault. The way you liked your eggs in the morning to the number of panties you owned, he could answer it in his sleep. He probably does, he thinks. Mumble about you in his sleep. You occupied his mind 24 hours in a day, and that’s why he felt he should be watching you all the time – like right now, as he sits uncomfortably on top of the willow tree next to your window. Perched in a posture that embarrasses him, with a branch digging into his inner thigh.

It’s all worth it when you finally come out from your steaming bathroom, a towel hanging dangerously low on your chest, showing the beginnings of your soft mounds. He almost moans at the sight, both from frustration at your tardiness and the sudden tightening of his crotch. Positioning his camera in front of his face, he eyes your figure through the lens. Careless yet graceful, you dance around your room from one end to another picking up your laundry and placing it in a basket. His camera softly shutters each time he decides to save a pose from you, which happens a lot. He wonders if he’ll get lucky once you head to your dresser and pick out a light orange sundress. A smile graces his features at your choice. It was one of his favorite dresses on you. But sadly, luck was not on his side as you come up to the window and shut the eggshell curtains on him.

Huffing, he sits up a tad to find the ledge he uses to exit the tree with his leg.

He learned the hard way that once you closed your curtains, you usually don’t open them for the rest of the day; so now he has to head home. He was disappointed of course, he wanted to continue watching you – especially in that dress. But its fine, better things await him at his house. Shoving his camera inside his satchel, he jumps off your back porch and runs to the alleyway a few meters from your place. There in the dark lane lays his locked bike, which he unlocks and hops on – beginning his ride home. He lived a few blocks away from you, not having the money to live in your side of town; but once he did, he planned on becoming your neighbor. It didn’t matter if you already had one, he knew he could take care of them easily.

After peddling for around a mile, he parks his bike near the run-down, motel-like apartment complex he lived in. Binding it to the rusted and useless ‘Cheap rooms available!’ board pole, he runs up the stairs to the second floor. The whole place was dirty, rat and roaches scurrying the floors ever so often, and there was a strong musty smell that enclosed the compound. The paint from the walls was chipping – tainted by unrecognizable stains and the wooden foundation grew mold. He hated this place, even if the rent made up for the appearance. Often, he would get into a quarrel with the land-owner, despising the man’s careless attitude towards the residence as well as toward his own rotten teeth and hairy chest. One day, he’d love to grab a blade and slice it right through the old man’s heart, but he promised you he’d only kill for you. Stomping his way past the ancient doors, he makes it to his own and slams it shut once inside.

His sanctuary.

Switching on the light of his small studio, he walks to the computer, settling his bag down by the twin bed. He scratches under his ribs over his hoodie as he settles into his chair. The tree by your house was filled with blood sucking bugs and he should probably do something about it, but he’s always so distracted by you he barely remembers to get other shit done. There was evidence of that scattered all over his cramped space, especially the floor. The 4 walls surrounding him are filled with photos of you on various days and angles. Polaroids of you hang in a line from a string on the ceiling, stretching out from one end of the room to the other. In front of him are multiple monitors, which he opens to reveal a video of you on your bed in your room. He lets out a content sigh at the sight of your calm form laying on your bed with a book. Your beauty shone even through the grainy pixels of the tiny spycam he hid in your room.

Moving the live feed to the smaller monitor on the right, he pulls up the spycam taping your bathroom, or more so your shower. He shuffles around his desk, picking up an open beer can from underneath his table. Relaxing back in his chair, he rewinds the broadcast to around 40 minutes ago, taking a sip of his drink. There you were, climbing into your shower, closing the glass door behind you. His eyes greedily graze your naked form, your radiant skin, the curve of your slender back, the way your nipples perked forward at the cold air. He was so glad he spent the extra money on this spycam with higher definition than the others hidden around your house, even if it left him broke for a month. His breath hitches when you slightly bend down to turn on the faucet, messing with the knob to get the perfect temperature for your shower with your ass on display. What he wouldn’t give to spread your cheeks apart, run his tongue along your folds and anus, drive his thick fingers deep into your cunt and have you dripping down his arm.

He didn’t notice how hard he was clenching the aluminum can until it exploded all over him, soaking through his jeans and hoodie. Groaning he picks up the tissue box next to his bed and begins wiping himself off. It was good that he became distracted before he could get too worked up, it was still light out and he didn’t want to be spent before midnight again. Throwing the tissues next to the other used tissues on the floor he gets back to doing his favorite thing. Pausing the window of your shower he brings back the live feed of you in your room to the main monitor. He smiles at you still lounging on your bed, the book placed over your chest as you scrolled away on your phone. You could be so lazy on the weekends, he cooed at your leg haphazardly dangling off the side of the bed. He loved it when you stayed indoors by yourself like a good little girl, it meant he could have you all to himself for the periods he spent watching you. It was just him and you, no one who could disturb his time between you both.

It isn’t clear to him when exactly you stopped connecting with the outer world. Perhaps it was when your lovers mysteriously vanished 3 years ago, or when men stopped trying to flirt with you all together. He recalls how scared you had been when officers came to interrogate you, and as bad as he felt – as much as he wanted to blow the heads off their burly bodies – he knew you deserved it for thinking you could make room in your life for anyone that wasn’t him. Or maybe it was because your best friend refused to talk to you ever again; a small rumor making its way to her ear about how you slept with her dad. Which was easy to believe seeing how he’d been fucking girls younger than his daughter for years. Most likely it’s when your parents cut off contact with you, the reigning black sheep of the family, when they received the sex tape you shot with your ex marked from you. An ex he ended up smashing each finger off of. Whatever it was, it was definitely because the gods had blessed him. You were meant for him and only him, and the circumstances that had all seemed to work in his favor only solidified that fact.

It was when he was off reminiscing about the most important years of his life that he bumped his leg into a hard brick-like object under his desk.

“Fuck,” He curses as his legs feels a light ting. Rolling back in his chair, he stares at the culprit that was the large stack of white paper. The manager had handed it all to him yesterday after he finished his second week of overtime; ‘to be stapled and collated’ he said. That motherfucker. Because of him – not only did Jungkook not have time to get home earlier to you, but he had to haul the hefty pile of papers uphill on his bike.

Whatever he thought about that guy doesn’t matter – he should get started on this task soon. Since this job is the one job he can’t afford to lose. So, with a heavy heart the young man clears his desk of the old ramen containers and sperm tissues and empty weed bags with one swift arm movement, cringing when he hears them hit the floor. Bending down, he easily heaves the stack up onto his now empty desk and begins to shuffle through them. Then he looks back up at you who’s back to reading her novel. If there was one thing he’d never do, it was show you how much of a slob he actually was. He couldn’t bear the thought of you finding him disgusting, so when he finally got you, he knew he’d do all the cleaning and housework. And that was fine with him, as long as he got to enjoy being a bit filthy while he was alone in this dreaded place. You would never find out, of course.

He starts to read the first document he grabs, something useless about company liability. Then he moves on to the next one, and the next. Until his mind is full of words and a yawn is crawling up his throat. Jungkook eyes you every few minutes or so, making sure you were still be his good girl. And that’s how he ends up spending his energy that day.

_

He wakes up with a large intake, forcing himself to sit up with his nose feeling strangely stuffed and his spine aching. As he adjusts his groggy vision, he notices the documents in a neater stack on the edge of his desk. That’s when he recalls the night before – how he was double tasking while trying to keep an eye on you lounging about. How you both took a break for dinner and watch some stupid melodrama with that tall actor you liked. And how he finally fell asleep on his desk at 2 in the morning while stapling said documents after you turned your lights off.

Jungkook didn’t have money for night vision cameras yet, but he was working on it! It sucks that everything was so expensive these days, especially love.

Yawning, he stretches his arms and back as he opens his sleeping screens hoping to see your face to cheer up his otherwise crappy consciousness. His face quickly falls however, when he notices you’re not in your bedroom or bathroom or living room or even your driveway.

Shit.

He freaks out and jumps out of his chair in sore legs, reaching for his bag on the bed.

9:12 his phone displays – making his round face turn pale. Running around in his room, he rushes to get ready. His bladder was especially full of the beers from last night. Other than that, there wasn’t much he had worry about since everything could be easily completed by multitasking. Such as brushing your teeth while pulling up your socks or combing your hair and looping your belt. After chaotically tying his white striped tie around his collared neck, he spritzes on the expensive cologne you once mentioned you like on a man, spraying on a bit more than usual since he hadn’t had time to shower. With that, he stuffs the skillfully collated and stapled documents into his black leather satchel and sprints out the door.

20 minutes later he was in front of the 25-story glass building. His nerves were eating at him as he hastily locked in his bike and entered the automatic doors. In front of him stood a black suited man in shades with his arms crossed.

As Jungkook jogged up a couple steps, the man raised his huge hand to stop him.

“I.D. please,” He spoke in a gruff voice

“Right,” Jungkook zipped open the front pocket of his satchel and brought out an employee I.D., swinging it around his neck. The man stepped aside, and he let Jungkook scan his I.D. in the machine next to him, that let out a green light afterward – letting him inside the small screen doors. He exhaled a breath, continuing his run to the elevators and punching in his floor. His insides felt like they were plummeting the whole ride up.

He really just wanted to quietly go to his desk, without making any ruckus or causing a scene but luck wasn’t on his side this time as the first person he sees when the doors slide open is his aging supervisor and his scowl. Once the man thoroughly eyes him in minor surprise of running into him, he frowns.

“You’re late,” The man grit through his yellow teeth

“I’m s-sorry, sir. I was up all night an-”

“I didn’t ask for excuses Jeon,” He sneers, “This is the second time this month, once more and I’ll have you kicked out of here- ass first, understand?”

“Yes sir,” Jungkook bows and steps aside to let the man use the elevator.

Before the doors slide close, his supervisor gives him another threatening glare. “Did you finish what I ordered? I’ll be back soon, and I better not find one mistake on those documents, you hear me Jeon?

“Yes sir” Like hell you’ll be back soon, you aging bastard.

Once he’s out of sight, Jungkook let’s out a sigh. He thought he was gonna lose his job today for sure. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Mr. Jang to act this way towards him and most of the team. The only people – correction women he’s nice to are the ones he finds fuckable. Still, he’s glad this didn’t happen in front of you.

He opens the doors to the office space, breathing in the cold air conditioning and watching everyone scurry about as usual. Some girls glance at him as he indifferently passes them on his way to his corner. His desk was luckily located with yours directly in front. Even though yours was closer to the Manager’s office and his was further back near the conference room. When he sits down in his chair, he notices you’re not at your desk. For a few minutes, he just eyes your empty area with confusion. The worry he felt this morning crawling back into his system.

But it quickly dissipates once you make your way out of the manager’s office, a few files in tucked under your right arm. Jungkook’s mood easily shifts at the sight of you and his heart starts to beat faster. He couldn’t go too long without seeing you, your graceful figure in that tight pencil skirt flawlessly hugging your hips. You sat at the front with rest of Team A who you supervised. Your side of the lineup were considered company gems; the pay was better, working conditions were more lenient and you all even had a dental plan. Sadly, thanks to him not knowing what to do and ultimately dropping out of college, he was grouped into Team B – the dispensable ones. His group was overworked and underpaid – even though the company made it seem like they treated all their employees equally. That was total bullshit.

And they had the worst fucking supervisor. An ancient stickler tyrant who acted like he was stepping out for business when Jungkook knew he was out fucking some blonde prostitute he was obsessed with in some cheap motel behind his sick wife’s back. Nothing in this company benefitted him. Not the pay, not the hours, and definitely not the bitchass supervisor. Nevertheless, he slaved all his days in this building for you. Looking up in your direction again, he smiles. He got to see you every day and that was enough for him. As long as you remained here, he would never quit. Just then a scowl made its way onto his soft features. What were you doing in the manager’s office half the time? Jungkook knew it wasn’t anything like that – that you were just doing your job, but doesn’t he call you in way too many times a day? His fingers clenched the strap of his bag as Jungkook thought about that man making a move on you.

You’re not good enough.

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice the clacking of heels and a pleasant scent light up his area.

“Jungkook?”

He jumps when he hears your voice, rolling back slightly. There – in front of him you stood with a large halo surrounding your figure. His throat feels caught as you meet his eyes and raise an eyebrow. You were the most beautiful being in the universe, he bet even angels compared themselves to you. But they wouldn’t hold a candle. Jungkook felt over the moon at your proximity, cameras couldn’t capture the absolute divinity you embodied so casually. The tip of your nose, the smoothness of your glowing skin, the light makeup over your eyelids. Even the posture you stood in was lethal. Everything was luring him in until he was completely lost and at your mercy, and he’s certain that showed on his face. He sucks in a breath as he hears you speak again, some uneasiness in your melodious tone.

“Umm…you’re Jungkook, correct?”

As he processes your expression at his odd behavior, he forces himself out of his reverie. Can’t have you thinking he’s a weirdo.

“Y-Y…Yes,” He manages

“Oh, good. I was just wondering if you have those documents Mr. Jang asked for? He called to tell me he would be a bit late and if I could retrieve them and give them to Mr. Kim”

Jungkook had always wanted to skin the face off his supervisor, but in this moment, he’s never adored a man more in his life. You actually came all the way over here and talked to Jungkook because of that old man’s incompetence. He hopes Mr. Jang receives the blowjob of his life today.

You eye the boy staring at you with wide bunny eyes. He was always so strange, you wondered why your female colleagues gushed over him so much. You were about to speak again when he stands up straight – making your startled feet shift backwards slightly.

“Umm…Yes!! I have them,” Jungkook states with his voice higher than usual. He opens his satchel and digs out all the documents, presenting them to you with one hand.

“Oh, thank you,” As soon as you reach out for them and bumped your hand into his accidently, he let’s all the documents go. They fall to the floor with a loud ‘thunk’ making a few heads in the neighboring desks turn your way. “Oops.”

You bend to the ground, gathering up all the paper once again. Most of them were in stapled piles, so thankfully they didn’t scatter around too much. When you assembled the bunch, you look back up at him from your position on the floor. His eyes seemed like they would pop out of his skull and you thought you heard him gulp as he continued to observe your position on the ground. Slowly you stand up straight, feeling unnerved.

“Thank you,” You say once again holding the documents on your chest. When you fail to obtain a response, you just awkwardly turn around, sensing his eyes following you all the way back to your desk.

What a weird guy.

_

Jungkook’s legs feel like a frail horse once he makes it back home. Trudging up the stairs and into his room with a slumped back, he jumps right into bed and kicks off his office shoes. He covers his eyes with his arms.

Then he smiles, stretching his pink lips and displaying his bunny teeth. He smiles so big and wide.

Wow. Wow. Wow. WOW.

You graced his presence. You talked to him. You even touched him.

Holding his face in his hands, he rolls around the compact bed like a teenage girl. Holy shit. This was real.

It’s not that you hadn’t spoken to him before – I mean you both did work in the same company for years and he’s wrote down previous dates of conversations in his both his calendar and journal. But you’ve never made this much eye contact, he’s never got to study your face this close for so long, and you definitely had never touched him. He almost exploded right then.

And then, the part that virtually killed him. You were on your knees…right below him. Innocently staring back up at him. FUCK!

Jungkook groans as recalling that image has him hard instantly. His mind was racing, and he felt he was going crazy with his body temperature continuing to climb. The sun was just beginning to set which let orange streaks of light into his room through the blinds. He huffs as his hand caresses down his torso to grab his bulge, hissing when his fingers make contact. Swiftly, he unbuckles his slacks, pulling them off his butt to rest on his knees. He continues to fondle his hard on through his briefs, moaning when imagining your soft hand instead of his much larger one.

His imagination takes him back a few hours ago, with you on your knees in front of him. But this time there’s no documents on the floor to pick up. This time, no one else is around the chattery office space – unworthy peasants breathing the same air as you. This time, your eyes have a dark undertone in them as you sit there without any clothes on. Your skin was as smooth as porcelain, color reflecting the ceiling lights of the office. He holds his breath when you take your right breast in your hand, pinching your perky nipple with your thumb and index finger. No distractions. No distance. It’s just you and him, and this heavy atmosphere.

“Jungkook,” You say in a sultry tone, crawling closer to him on all fours.

“Fuck,” He curses as you hook your fingers into the waist band of his underwear, slowly pulling the cloth down with a smirk. Jungkook catches a tiny gasp from you as his erection springs up to his stomach in front of your face. You lightly grab the underside of his shaft as his breathing becomes heavy. Poking your tongue out – you lick a stripe up his dick, and he tenses, shoulders rolling back with a shiver. With a mischievous glint, you bring your tongue around the top, swirling his precum over his head while tracing a vein up his shaft with a manicured finger. Your hand bobs up and down his dick as you continue to skillfully twirl your tongue around the tip. His hand clenches tightly as you wrap your pretty lips around the head and hallow out your cheeks to suck.

“Ahhnn,” He hopes you don’t mind his loud, sort of feminine moans. But he still bites his lip to suppress them.

You remove yourself with a pop. Your hand was still gripping around his dick, steadily moving along his rod. Stretching your lips, you wink up at him and he has to do everything in his power not to fall to the ground. He was light headed with lust clouding his vision. The room had gotten dimmer sometime ago, he could only make you out as he did this morning. Your strawberry scent invading his rationality as you sat in front of him. Your honey tone as you repeated his name. The way your red lips curved with every syllable you spoke. Lips you were once again opening as he took your luscious locks in his fingers and directed his dick along your mouth. For a moment he just traced around your lips, glossing them with precum. These lips were his possession along with the rest of you, only he gets to claim them. Then he brought his head back inside your mouth, watching you take all of him in with hooded eyes. Inching his way inside, he saw your jaw go slack and lids flutter the more he forced himself in. You looked so beautiful with tears surrounding your sockets as you struggled to breath when he hit the back of your throat.

“You’re so perfect baby,” Your warm cavern was made for this – for him. Once he feels your throat muscles relax against him, he takes himself out ever so slow, obsessed with how wet his dick became with your saliva. Just to push himself inside again, holding your head down as you struggled. He threw his head back, failing to keep his moans quiet as you gagged around him with your nails pushing at his thighs. Tightening his fingers amongst your hair, he pulled your head back with force before he stuffed you full of himself once again.

He keeps that pace swift and harsh, frustrated at how you were always a few feet from him yet still so far away. This is what he needs, what he craves. His heart beats harder every time he shoves into your wet entrance, watching the way hot tears roll down your cheek but you don’t try to fight off his brutal thrusts. Saliva was sticking at the edge of your lips; your jaw was practically unhinged at his girth and lipstick was smeared all over his dick. You let him use your face like a fuck doll, rolling your eyes into the back of your head as he speeds up with his orgasm approaching.

“You – you’re so beautiful,” He grunts with every thrust “My angel, my doll, my fuck toy. M-Mine. Mine. Mine.”

Words slurred against his mouth as you laid your tongue flat against his shaft, slick dripping of your chin. As his arms fell to his sides, you once again took control of bobbing your mouth and hand against his length. It was really just himself and his own fingers but God he could imagine it so well. He could retrace every part of your body – practically ingrained in his mind from how much time he spent stalking observing you. Hours would go by of him watching you masturbate. Memorizing each facial expression of yours. Thirsting for your heat – this thirst, this is exactly how’d you feel. Jungkook could practically taste it.

He cums with one last push inside your warm mouth and a loud cry of your name.

Opening his eyes, he takes in large breaths gaping at the ceiling of his apartment. Holy fuck, it’d been a while since he came so hard. Chest moving up and down – it takes a moment for him to calm himself. Still high off your pretty face stuffed with his dick. He lays limp in his bed, bringing his hand up to see the insane amount of cum covering his palm. This part always brought him an odd grief. Having to ‘wake up.’ Be alone in his dirty room with your divine company no longer in sight. There was an empty feeling, not just in his balls but in his heart. It was all your fault. Coming near him with those big doe eyes, practically begging him to fuck you on your knees. Yet you wouldn’t let him…not right now. Fuck. Fuck you.

Jungkook knew it wasn’t the right time, that you didn’t know him well enough for him to make a move, but his patience was wearing thin. He had to act fast since he desperately wanted this dream to become a reality.

_

You were typing away at your keyboard screen, finishing whatever goddamn report of the month. At this point, you were moving in autopilot not even registering any words that were making their way onto the screen. Your back aches as you sigh, you really hated this job. If the pay wasn’t so good, you would’ve quit so long ago. The only good thing about this company was the dental plan really, and the big house you got to afford due to your wages. Co-workers of yours were snarky pieces of shit who excluded you in any activities due to you being the boss’ favorite. Communicating with them was always troublesome, which is why you were here working overtime alone on this 4-person job. At least your co-supervisor was a nice old guy who acted like a gentleman. Really trashy towards his own team though and you were pretty sure he was cheating on his sick wife. When you were almost done with the last paragraph, your phone next to your coffee mug decided to buzz and interrupt the silent, dim office space.

You pick it up reluctantly, already knowing who’d be behind the bright screen. As usual, your misery proves you correct as the name of your arrogant dick for a boss flashes on your phone screen. He was one of those types; the men that feel like they’ve led a hard-working life because they went to a prestigious college without a sport’s scholarship even if they enrolled with their rich parent’s money. Any sort of self-reflection towards their privilege fails to register within them. This man called you for fifty things a day even though he had his own slutty secretary on her knees every time he asked. Maybe you’d feel for the girl if she wasn’t scowling at you whenever you passed by her desk to reach his office. You knew she hated you because he had a thing for you. When he wasn’t calling you in just to subtly check out your ass, he was making passive sexual remarks in completely normal work-related conversations.

It’s not like you didn’t find him attractive. He was tall, dark and you knew he was eating rich with how much time you spent eyeing his muscles. But god was he dumb as fuck. And he didn’t enthuse you any bit, other than maybe imagining him pounding into you from behind with his thick fingers wrapped around your neck. Sexual attraction was normal you suppose – you were two young attractive adults after all. But other than that, you really desired nothing to do with him. Actually, you desired no relationship with anyone at all, for that matter.

Since your last boyfriend’s disappearance three years ago, you recall being too scared to date for a while. Staying at home 24/7 and opting to buy some large dildos in the place of men. But that fear had left you long ago. Slowly, you became someone who just didn’t care in searching for fairytale romance or a passionate night with the love of your life. Instead you just wanted to feel the thrill of being alive, that ecstasy of feeling afraid – waiting for the unknown. You wanted to feel like you did when you saw your dead boyfriend’s horribly mutilated corpse. But that moment had fled too fast and everything around you had become predictable in some gloomy, miserable pattern – with nothing to excite you. Your life had actually become so unbearably boring that you had all the time in the world to accept these insane thoughts into your head, with no one to stop you from so. There was no point in shame any longer, you had your fair share of that when your isolation first started turning you insane.

The more reclusive you stayed, the more apathetic you became.

Sighing, you click on his name to see what he wanted with you at this lovely time of the evening.

‘Had Lana review the documents

She said a page is missing from the last stack

Ask the intern about it’

Of course, he would think Jungkook was an intern. He surely paid him like one. You look up at his empty desk. For once in their despondent lifespan, Team B was allowed to head home on time. Great that meant you’d have to talk to that oddball again in the morning. Lost in thought at your dreadful near future, you get startled as your phone buzzes yet again.

‘More importantly, we’re still up for tmrw night, right?😉’

Staring at the screen with insignificance, you type your reply with bitter fingers.

‘Of course, sir❤’

When you’re about to type him a reply for the ‘intern’ text, a twinkle from across the room catches your eye. You glance back up to see the outline of an unfamiliar object on Jungkook’s desk. Peering into the indistinct space, you desperately tried to make out what was sticking up from his otherwise flat desktop. Oh, right! It hit you then – that was the black bag he carries around daily.

Honestly, you always thought he was weird, and you didn’t pay much attention to Jungkook. Writing him off as another tedious side character that appears in your timeline here and there. The ladies of the office surely seemed to disagree with you, obsessively gushing over his bunny-like features and sturdy physique. Little boys like him didn’t interest you. But you did find yourself studying him sometimes – you’ve always been a curious person – which is why you knew he carried that bag everywhere with him, never letting it out of his sight. Even today, he handed you the pile of papers straight from that satchel. He kept everything in there, how could he forget it here?! Although…he did look out of it the whole day today after your small interaction with him. Maybe he was unwell?

Whatever it was, the situation at hand was more important. If you told your boss Jungkook had left for home, even though he had every right to, he might get fired. That man was impulsive and became furious over the dumbest situations. He once fired an employee that gave 16 years to this company for not ‘ordering the right cupcakes for his favorite client.’ Groaning, you stand up and walk across the office to Jungkook’s desk, your heels clacking amongst the floor. As you thought, it really was his bag that was thrown on his desk.

It wasn’t right to look through his things and you didn’t want to, but you couldn’t have this young man losing his job over something as small as this. Something you can easily fix…hopefully. But why should his status at the company concern you in the least anyway? If he is or isn’t thrown out, it wouldn’t harm your life in at all. Crossing your arms in irritation at the headache starting from the battle of your moral interpretations, you reason that it wouldn’t hurt you to do one kind thing. Perhaps it might land you that promotion you were seeking tomorrow.

You felt bad. Your gut told you something was wrong. What if it’s not in there and you just invade his privacy for no good reason?

With reluctance you grabbed his bag, opening the zipper in slow motion.

Jungkook was peddling as fast as he could. Stupid. Stupid. STUPID. How could he be so stupid. The whole fiasco with you talking to him today and his stupid hormones made him overlook something important. It was ridiculous how he was more concerned in getting home and jerking off to you then paying attention to any of his surroundings. Shit. If only you knew of the power you had over him. He didn’t even remember the dumb item until he was looking for his expensive camera when he recalled leaving it in that bag and leaving said bag back at his desk! Everyone had probably gone home by now, right? He knows some of the janitors steal from the pricks of Team A, but if a whole leather bag is on his desk won’t they at least take a glimpse? SHIT. Jungkook pushes his feet down on the peddles with great force, practically flying towards the workplace like a car.

There wasn’t any way he could afford for anyone to see what was on that camera.

Barging into the office on two left legs, he wheezes with his palms on his knees as he surveils the area around him. Most of the lights are off and the room is empty of life or noise. In a hurry, he had run into some of the caretakers downstairs and they told him they didn’t start on his floor yet. Out of habit, he glances at your desk, to find you staring at him with wide eyes. He straightens himself immediately, closing his mouth along with the racket of his breaths.

Why were you still here?

You had your hands hovering the keyboard and a fresh batch of coffee stood next to you. Were you supposed to be working overtime today? He thought it was tomorrow because he memorized your schedule for this month last week. Did your plans change without him knowing?

As he continues to leer at you, you clear your throat which makes him snap out of his daydream. Carefully, he turns away from you walking towards his desk. The bag is still right where he left it. He knows he can just grab it and go, but the fact that you’re here with him…alone of all things. How good could today get? Fuck, he thought he drained himself enough for today, but his mind was still racing with substantial thoughts. Would it be okay if he talks to you? Maybe he could help you out in whatever you were working on. Before he could get too far and freak you out, he grabs his bag and swings it around his shoulder. Turning around again he takes slow step, trying to seem casual. Was he walking too awkwardly? Did he look good in this hoodie?

When he’s a couple steps from the door, you call out to him.

“Jungkook?”

He faces you with giant deer eyes, “Yes?”

“I received a text from Mr. Kim stating that the last page from the documents you gave me this morning was missing. Do you think you have it in your bag?”

He takes a moment to process what you said, “Yes? Um…Oh right,” He begins digging in his satchel. And there it was, one single page – stuck to the bottom, ripped from the edge where it was originally stapled. The corner of his lip perks up when he finds his camera on top of the document. “Here you go”

Walking over to you, he hands out the paper and you notice it shaking in his fingers.

“Thank you, that’s all.” You say, gently taking the paper from his trembling grasp. Setting it down aside, you pick up your mug to take a sip of your coffee. It was still steaming so you blow on it slightly, puckering your lips. That’s when you notice the shadow in your peripheral vison. You look up to find Jungkook – still as a tree – gawking at you behind an unreadable expression.

“Yes?” You say in a confused tone

“N-no nothing” He stutters, clutching the straps of his bag tightly. “Sorry,” He states, before walking away from you. Turning his head subtly, he gives you one last glance before he heads out the door.

_

Jungkook was sure he was going to pop open his knuckles as his characters dies once again. He had been gaming for what – two hours straight? His room was lit with only his PC’s screens, and he’s sure his eyes would drop out of his sockets if he doesn’t close them soon. Also, he’d definitely lose his voice from screaming into his mic so much at the arrogant teenage brat who keeps mocking him. If only this damn kid appeared two days ago. His gameplay sucks because his focus is somewhere else – on someone else. Yesterday’s events had punctured both his mind and balls and he was completely spent. Yet you still continued to linger in his mind, like you had your hand wrapped around his brain.

It was destiny, Jungkook believes. It was a sign; the stars are telling him to make his move. Finally, after three years all he needed was some form of answer to his craving for you and he knows he’s received it as of yesterday. He was planning on talking to you by the end of the week, maybe asking you out to coffee like normal people do. There was always that fear of you saying no, but not after last night. Jungkook acknowledges he’s handsome, knows how people view him both in the office and out on the streets. Unlike some of the virgins on his server, he’s had his fair share of pussy before.

There were tons of different types he encountered. A few girls that were looking for a handsome fling. Others wanting arm candy. The most annoying girls repeatedly tried to find a way to get beneath the sexual layer – thinking themselves to be saviors or that he’s some poor lost ‘badboy’ who needs saving – clinging onto him with their delusional fantasies. They were always the hardest to shake off. His favorite type were the girls who understood that they have no meaning to him, they just wanted to get spit on and choked during intercourse. This was all way before he met you, of course. Before he pledged his faithfulness to his and your relationship. Nevertheless, he does know how to get into a woman’s pants.

He wants more with you, however. He wants to hold your hand whenever he feels like it and laugh with you at the cheesy dramas you watch and come home to you when the dark thoughts in his head overwhelm him and his loneliness eats away his soul. Jungkook’s never understood what love is or why people put themselves through pain for something as silly as that, at least not until he met you. What he feels for you, its love isn’t it? It consumes him entirely and he numbs the ache of not having you by watching over you compulsively. By memorizing your habits, by making you as alone as he is. Funny…he thinks he’s become like those girls he hated. A more excessive version, perhaps.

Jungkook growls as he dies yet again and closes off his sever. Today was just not his day. He discards his headset and grabs his unfinished ramen cup, practically shoving the last of its contents into his mouth in one large take. Throwing it to the side, he grabs his energy drink and downs it in one go while he’s still chewing to help swallow without difficulty. Stretching his shoulders, he huffs, looking at the time on his screen. You were probably making dinner right now. Maybe watching a horror movie or finishing your novel. What if you were in that mood tonight, the one that made you rip off all your clothes and seize whatever sex toy you touched first in your drawer. He loved your dildos the most, he was always amazed at how they stretched out your cunt so nice and tight. Exactly like he wants to. Sometimes he’d break into your house just to lick them clean.

Shuddering from his thoughts, he opens his folder where he stores the camera records. His favorite part of watching you was the anticipation. He clicks the kitchen cam to find it empty. Okay, so you weren’t cooking. He goes on to click the living room cam. Also empty. In excitement, he clicks the bedroom cam…to find it blank? The screen was black, and it darkened his entire room. There was no sound or even static from the tape. Great…it’s probably broken.

He sighs, staring at the monitor in scrutiny. There were other times when his spycam’s malfunctioned or broke down over the past three years and it was always such a hassle. Barely managing to excuse himself from work to sneak into your house when you’re not around, finding the spycam (and maybe taking a trinket of yours), getting back home to diagnose it. And either spending hours fixing it or spending money replacing it. Then sneaking back in and placing it back up. Always took a lot of work and interesting fact he discovered – acting like a thief was sort of dangerous! Who would’ve thought? His ‘all black ensemble all the time’ hadn’t helped either. Your neighbor almost caught him last time.

Today was really not his day, but the important thing was to see what you were doing. He glances at his camera on the side of the desk. Would you have your window open tonight? Well…there was only one way to know for sure. He gets up from his chair, pausing a bit as his vision blacks out for a moment. When it returns, he grabs his camera and stuffs it in his satchel. Then he slips out of his sweats to pull up his jeans and has to sit on the bed to wear his heavy easy climb shoes. Once he picks up his keys, he’s out the door into the cool summer night.

The bike to your place was easy, the wind blew through his hair like a lullaby. His hair was getting quite long, most of it reaching halfway to his ears. He was going to cut it, but he saw you eyeing him last week. There was no way he was letting scissors come near him now, not with the way your gaze glossed over his strands.

He finally reaches the usual alleyway and locks his bike by a drain pipe, making sure to secure it tightly. The reason why he parked it here was so no one takes note of the large blue P5X in the middle of the backroad behind your house as it was too heavy to carry over your fence. Besides, he’d trust the abandoned alleyway any day over the quite suburban neighborhoods. If movies have taught him anything, it’s that the nice-looking places are always the deadliest. That’s another reason he’s installed cameras around your house; for your own safety.

Jungkook spots your place after a short walk, turning his slow steps into a quick jog. As he comes near, he notices the light of your bedroom window beaming into the road, and he quietly cheers. Your window was open – he finally gets to see your pretty face. When he was in front of your house, he hops the familiar fence into your slightly unkept backyard. Once he moves in with you, the first thing he’s going to do is mow the fucking lawn. He walks up to the willow tree standing sturdy by your window, waiting on him to climb on. He loved this fucking tree, it was truly a pure and majestic plant.

As usual, he grabs onto a firm piece of bark and he uses his shoe to push himself up. He repeats this process until he’s safely tucked into the branches of the large tree. As usual, the leaves were blocking his way, and also protecting him from getting caught. Using the leaves as a cover, he gets himself ready by pulling out his camera and perching himself on his stomach. And as usual he moved towards the light behind the leaves.

As usual. Everything was supposed to be as fucking usual. But today was not his fucking day, was it?

When he finally gets a view behind the leaves using the lens of his camera, he almost drops out the tree all together. He let’s out a loud involuntary gasp. His throat constricts and his eyes widen at the sight he’s met with.

He first saw your eyes, your beautiful shapely eyes clenched together in ecstasy. Then he saw your arms. Your healthy, silky arms grasping onto someone’s broad back. And then your legs. Your sexy, glowing skin folded on someone’s hips. Hips that should’ve been his. He moves his camera out of his sight, taking your position in with his own two eyes. There you were, with your jaw hanging open and your body blocked out by someone else’s, a body you were urgently clinging onto. From then on started the moans. He hadn’t registered them before until just now, his brain connecting the movement of your mouth to the soft moans just now reaching his ears. A shaky breath leaves him.

“Uhh – ahh-” You were getting fucked, up against your wall.

“There,” You were mewling for the man pounding your smaller frame

“Faster!” A sob leaves his throat, his pants tightening at the scene. No, he didn’t want to get hard at this, not when his heart was shattering into a million pieces. But his body refused to listen to him as his dick started leaking precum

There was slight sweat on your forehead, your eyebrows were furrowed, and your now open eyes were glazed with desire. The muscles of the stranger tense as he holds you, hard ridges producing beads of perspiration – both yours and his – leaving no distance between your entangled limbs. He doesn’t know what to feel, just that his body hurts a lot all of a sudden. He accidently presses the camera shutter, not noticing it taking one pick after the other of the dreadful scene in front of him. Suddenly you make eye contact with him and his whole figure freezes.

You were looking. Fuck. You were staring straight at him, he knows you could tell he was here. He should get the fuck out of here – leave this place immediately but he’s frozen. The pounding of his heart intensifies when you smile.

You were…smiling? You were staring straight at him and…smiling? What the fuck was going on? A chill ran down his spine.

While making direct eye contact with him, you smirk, bringing your hand up to grab your boss’ locks. “Right there, baby,” You groan, throwing your head back but still staring out that window. “Ahh-You do it so well, better than mm- anyone.”

Jungkook was crying. He felt the tears leaves his sockets one by one. It was those days again – the ones three years ago. When you would break his heart daily by casually dating or flirting. When he had to put together that revolting tape of you and your now ex. Nausea crept his insides, his arms felt limp. Only the shadows know how he survived that time period. And it was supposed to be gone, that retched habit of yours. You were only his now. Yet here you were, with that evil glint in your menacing stare, mocking him with every breath that left your lungs.

When the bastard moves his head to the side to nose your neck, is when Jungkook catches a glimpse of the man who tore you away from him. It was him…your boss. Jungkook’s breathing becomes heavy.

You were doing this on purpose. You were torturing Jungkook on purpose. But WHY?! Why would you do that to him? Are you punishing him? It’s not something he knows for certain, but he does know this man had corrupted you. He took you away from Jungkook. He made you become this cruel. And Jungkook doesn’t share what’s his, ever.

It was that sudden thought just then, that blackened his pupils and clenched his teeth. The tears became hot, leaving a fire in their trail and burning the skin of his cheek. He no longer cried out of utter devastation, but a new emotion fueled him – bought back the energy that drives him to pursue you. Anger. Red, hot, scorching anger.

“I’m gonna cum”

He can no longer digest the scene. His stomach churned at the sight and he forced himself away, jumping out of the tree and falling feet-first into the lawn. As he straightened up, the ache got worse, his head felt like it would explode any second. So, he leaned on the bark, trying to keep cool. It didn’t work though as his mouth dropped open and he threw up all over the roots of the plant. His throat constricted and he struggled to breathe, eyes wide at the misery at hand. When he was done vomiting his guts, he took a step back and observed the sight in coughs he tried to keep silent. Pieces of food had mushed together and dyed into a green unidentifiable gunk by his energy drink, drenching the roots and grass surronding of the tree. He felt so sick, eyes hazy and the gross stench filling his nostrils. As soon as his conscious cleared a bit, he ran away from the scene of the crime.

Jungkook ran from the tree. From your yard. From the long backroad. All the way back to that silent alley way, not once looking back.

He was out of breath once he found his bike. Too exhausted to drive for now, he rested his arms on the wall. That’s when he noticed some of the contents from his earlier actions got on his pants and he wiped away at them furiously, grunting loudly. His grunts soon became whimpers and his eyes blurred once again as he let out a loud wail. Why would you do this to him? Why? He did everything for you, just to be with you…so WHY?

His body is shaking as he hangs onto the wall, trying to wipe tonight from his mind. The longer he thinks about, the crazier he becomes. Images continue to plague his mind and he shouts curses into the wall as his crotch continues to ache.

Why was he hard at a time like this? What the actual fuck was wrong with him?

No longer having the energy to care, with one last curse he unbuckles his jeans and pulls out his raging dick. Immediately he starts stroking his shaft strong and fast, and he uses the last of his adrenaline to fuel his pace.

He can see it still, your naked form. The gorgeous expanse of your skin and your legs spread apart. Except this time, you’re bent over your bed with your ass on display for him. Only for him. Your hands are tied behind your back but you’re not struggling. Yet.

Grunting, he jerks himself off as he imagines raising his hand up – then landing it straight on your soft ass cheek. You cry out as you shift away from him only to have him hold you down with his other arm. The skin around your butt becomes a rosy color, his hand print appearing in the aftermath. Immediately his pupils blow out, breath coming in hefty takes as he one again raises his hand towards your other cheek.

“How *smack* dare *smack * you *smack*” He grits out the last word so hard that he accidently bites his tongue. The taste of iron swirled in his mouth. Your cries were muffled against the bed your face was stuffed in and it makes his heart ache. This isn’t what he wanted, he only wanted to make sweet love to you. Give you everything you asked for. But he was weak and inept…underprivileged and a good-for-nothing. His insecurities held him back for three fucking years, but he was trying. Groveling away in the only company that would hire him. Letting himself be belittled, ridiculed, endlessly worked…all for you. He was trying really hard. Hiccupping as tears fall down his face, he rubs against your bottom to sooth you, not taking his eyes off of your cunt.

In exchange, that man embodied everything he wasn’t. Money. Status. Power. He could provide for you – he could give you anything you wanted and maybe that’s why he got to touch you. Jungkook recoils, recollecting what a dumbass horndog he became just because his fingers brushed yours. How sad was it that after all his efforts, Jungkook was stuck behind his dirty 4 walls masturbating to thoughts of you every night while this man got to live his dream without even half the work? What had he done to deserve you?

Not good enough. Not good enough. You’re not good enough.

“W-Why…did you do that t-to *hiccup* me”

“Why, when I love you so much?” When he recalls what you did, all the anger comes back. Red paints his vision as he once again spanks you like crazy, not caring about your screams this time. With how you angled your ass, you were practically urging him to continue. Heat radiates from you and his palm, his mind traveling a mile a minute. He brings his thigh up to your core, enjoying the way you instantly soak through his jeans while whining at the stimulation. Not just your suffering but even your face wasn’t correctly recreating in his perception, because to him this wasn’t about you. It was about your lack of fucking respect for him. Right now, only his pleasure mattered to his brain.

Pausing his merciless attack, he enjoys the view of your dripping cunt. Once again mindlessly rubbing at your bottom. Grabbing your sore ass cheek with one hand, he positions his dick at your entrance with his other. He groans as he sinks into you, stretching your insides apart. Fuck, if it felt this good in his own mind then he can’t even fathom how it would feel in reality. As he settles all the way inside, he doesn’t wait for you to relax around him. No, he wouldn’t wait for you.

Instead he pulls out and slams against you balls deep with one swift thrust. His moans sound out in sync with your cries – pleading for his forgiveness.

Before he could help it, he cums right then – abruptly, unfinished and the fury still alive in his bones. Inhumane growls come from him as he’s faced with the red brick wall that he coats with hot white strings of his semen. Bumping his forehead onto that wall, he slows his breathing, watching as the white streaks drip down the uneven ridges of the bricks. Reality kicks in. This is how it would be every time, wouldn’t it? He wouldn’t get to be inside you, he wouldn’t get to taste you, and he would spend away his days ejaculating prematurely like a fucking child.

Unless he did something about this.

Something he hasn’t done in a while.

As the young man continues to stand alone in that alleyway, an idea forms in his head. Since you were staring at him in such a sinister way – no surprise or fright in your face – you know exactly what he was doing and probably who he was. For the first moment that night, he flashes his pearly whites. Looks like it was finally time for you both to officially meet.

_

The man paced as fast as his heavy legs could take him, trying his best to seem confident and not an object of suspicion. Sweat was building in his temple and he could feel it. In that moment, all of his senses were at their peak and he’d probably be able to feel the flutter of a fly’s wings or a mole beneath his feet. As he wasn’t the most athletic, he was already out of breath from the steps he had taken, but he clamped his mouth shut. His eyes wandered around everywhere, staying no place more than a few seconds.

When he opens the doors of the building, he’s greeted with another presence.

“Good evening Mr. Jang.” A young janitor, probably his son’s age tells him. It has an unsettling effect on him – one where his eyes widen, and eyebrows raise. He responds with a forced smile, teeth clamoring faintly, as he continues to walk on by.

“Yes, good evening.” The worker’s pupils follow the blue suited man all the way to the elevator, where they are involuntary required to make eye contact again as he waits for his lift to arrive. Another forced smile from his side.

The elevator doors open quickly to Jang’s relief, and he gets inside. He hits the top floor immediately and looks towards his shoes. For a few seconds he just blinks, trying to see if this was some hellish nightmare he was stuck inside. If he could somehow wake up to a better reality. With her lying next to him.

The lift reaches the top floor and lets him out, he quietly walks into the windy night enclosed by the vacant terrace. There he pauses, running a palm on his bare head a few times to ease his discomfort. She did that for him too, it always calmed him down.

His phone rings. Again.

“Y…Hello…yes I’m at the rooftop. Yes, I’m alone.”

The aging man shifts on his legs as the distorted voice replies to him. It was that contrast of the unusually deep baritone in one ear and noiseless summer night in his other that ran a chill up his spine.

“I’ll do it…but please can I ask wh- no! NO! I’m sorry! I won’t do it again. I’ll do what you asked!”

“Just please,” He begs, bringing his hands up in the darkness to his head, “Don’t send those photographs to my wife…”

He sniffles bitter and exhausted, as the call ends and he’s once again completely alone. Eyeing his phone, he stands there for a bit just exhaling through his nose. The calm before the storm let’s say. Never in his life has he considered himself a kind man, he always took what he wanted from who he wanted as much as life allowed him to. His wife was just some rich whore he managed to impregnate in the 80’s, he didn’t mean to make a life with her. He also didn’t mean to just watch as life left her. But he can’t change what happened; he can’t change that they have a son who rarely speaks to them, he can’t change that he found another woman – much younger, much tighter. And he can’t change taking a generous life insurance policy out on her ill body. Divorce isn’t something he could afford, not when he’s this close.

Instead was he a murderer? No, he couldn’t cause someone’s death even if he was hoping for another’s. So that has to account for something, right? It was the least he earned to be able to love himself…didn’t he? With a deep sigh and a muffled sob, he clicks on his boss’s name and waits as his phone starts ringing, holding it next to his ear.

“Hello?”

He did it…he called him. Now he should start talking but no – the words won’t come out. Should he tell him the truth? Should he stick to the script? All he could do was stand there with his mouth catching flies as the other line repeats his greetings.

“Hello? Jang, what the fuck? I know it’s you. What the fuck do you want at this time of night?”

Compared to the other call, this man’s voice was louder, and he hated it twice as much. Perhaps this was destiny, a twisted fate of all the choices he’s made in the past couple of years. Kim had always been a brat, the reason Jang dreaded going into the office he should’ve originally been in charge of. The brat didn’t have half the qualifications he did, nor did he have half the rights to speak to him in such a belittling manner. Nonetheless, luck only delivers to the wealthy or sons of the arrogantly blessed. Seniority holds no place in competition to those privileged enough to win. Perhaps this was karma, another card of destiny – taking back what was unfairly given.

He failed to register the threat looming right behind him, caught up in his pleasing daydream of a payback. His own karma watching him with hawk eyes.

If this is destiny…then he doesn’t have to feel bad about this, does he? It was always meant to happen, and he was just doing what the cards told him. He was just a messenger delivering a message.

And so, with a large gulp, deliver he did.

_

Kim parked his Benz at the back. He parked near the trees, their cover setting an ease inside his otherwise chaotic mind. The last thing he expected tonight was a call from that musty old man. Fucking Jang, he wonders why he hasn’t fired him yet. It was you who did most of his work anyway, while he was out fucking some chick from their red-light district bar. If only that bastard wasn’t also involved in his side business.

Getting out of his car, he takes fast strides to the structure in front of him. All of this was getting out of hand.

“There’s a mole…We should meet”

Kim wasn’t gonna lie, he was shitting himself the whole ride to the warehouse. Contrary to what people think, Kim considered himself a sharp man. He knew that none of his crap was really his, that his alcoholic father could take everything away in a matter of moments if he pissed him off enough. That man spent his youthful years beating the ‘sissy’ out of him and now uses his older age to sass the failing status of his business. It was such a curse representing that man’s last name. Such a tragedy that he was born into the mud pile he called a family. Maybe that’s why he took refuge behind illegal activities, turned his once average company to an underground drug laundering agency. That way he could earn his own money, untainted by his elegant family’s legacy. He craved that independence.

Everything was better than it seemed anyway. They weren’t distributors nor were they providers, they were just middle men. People who safely hid the drugs given to them by providers and taken away from them by distributors. Meaning he’d get the same amount of punishment despite having the least amount of profits. Apparently, young rich boys mean nothing to mafia heads or underground gangsters. Nothing more than disposable aid like he considered others. Tsk. Fuck all this shit.

What he needed to do was find this ‘mole’ Jang mentioned and eliminate him fast. There wasn’t any blood on his hands minus multiple teenaged addict’s untimely death, but he didn’t consider that his fault. However, this time he’d make sure to kill this son of a bitch – whoever he was – himself. The thought of finally having power over some plebian pleading soul right before he rips the life from their eyes gave him an adrenaline rush. Finally, he wouldn’t just be a monster because of who his father was, but because he could get shit done.

He grunts when he makes it to the warehouse doors, opening them with more force than he meant to. Once he steps inside, he notices that It’s too dark to see.

“Jang? Where the fuck are you?” Kim shouts into the shadows

…

Nothing but silence in return. He feels uneasy…like there was something terribly wrong with this place.

“Fuck,” He mutters, pulling out his phone to call the old man. His shoulders were tense, and his eyes roamed about. The alcohol in his system heightened his nervousness, made everything sort of unfocused even in the dark. With one call, he charged into battle without thinking, eager to blow someone’s head off tonight”

Ring Ring

Everything went in slow motion as he spotted a light coming from a few feet away. It looked like a phone. Kim gulped before he walked towards it. Praying that it wasn’t what he was thinking.

As he came by it, he began to tremble. His name was displayed on the small screen. It was cracked from an end and…there was something red on the front edge. What the fuck.

Snap

In an instant he turns around, the ringing still haunting his ear. He definitely heard something…or someone?

“W-who’s there?!” He tries to shout but his voice fails him as he squeaks. The realization that he’s not alone frightens him. All the vigor from before leaves his build and he becomes a small boy once again. The shadows symbolizing his father, the small noises sounding like the leather belt that bruised him continuously.

“W-what do you want?”

“Weak,” he hears his father’s voice sneering, “You gonna grovel like a f*g? You sissy.”

Anger swells inside his chest, his teeth clenching in pure hate. “I won’t grovel you motherfucker, come out this instant!” He roars before taking out his gun and shooting a few rounds at random. Still, no reply. Kim heaves in the darkness for a few seconds, placing his gun in multiple directions, trying to make out the cunt playing with him.

That when he notices Jang’s phone. It’s gone. Did someone take it? When? As he’s busy staring at the ground where it once laid, he doesn’t hear the steps of the shoes behind him.

*Crack*

He falls to the floor with a thud as something heavy hits the back of his head. The gun slips away from reach, further into the darkness. Screaming he clutches the gushing wound on his head, blood immediately making its way from the blow in his cranium. He tries to push himself up with one arm, falling back down miserably. That attempt lands him a hit on the back of his thigh as he wails. His vision blurs and he wheezes in pain, completely immobile in a growing pool of his own blood.

His father laughs at him, the leather belt in his hand crackling with pride. Turning himself around, he brings a weak arm up, pleading with the silhouette of what he thinks is a man. “P-please, I’ll give you whatever you want.”

The man scoffs, reaching behind him to pull out a tiny object. He flicks it a few times to reveal a lighter. As the fire brightens everything around him, he notices a bat in the man’s other arm. A very bloody bat. Slowly, he brings the lighter up to his face and Kim’s eyes go wide with the last bit of his strength.

“Y-you’re that i-intern-

“Name’s Jungkook.”  The man interjected before bringing the bat up and smashing it into his face.

In a moment, the last thing Kim saw were spotted stars in his eyes before he felt the awful pop of his nose breaking and eventually lost conscious.

_

You were painting your nails. Scratch that, you were attempting to paint your nails. Bending your body in half and sticking out your tongue in concentration, you groan when that bombs, and you make yet another mistake. This shit was impossible.

After a long week of complete exhaustion, you were happy to be home on your couch with a pizza box on your left and a glass of wine on your right. Sitting there and swirling the brush inside your nail polish container you hummed along to the tune of the newest pop song stuck in your head. It was a nice night, compared to the heat wave your city had been experiencing for the past month. So, you decided to leave the windows open and let some breeze in. Soon you were thinking about watching a thriller on Netflix.

You sighed, this is always how your days passed no matter what type of weather was out there. Alone – in your way too large to live alone in house. Since your bitch of a best friend left you, she decided to take all your other friends with her. Online harassment from her minions got so bad you had to delete all your social medias. Family was no good either. Your parents were the most annoying creatures on the planet, refusing to let you in that one time you flew home to see them for the holidays. Whatever, it didn’t matter – you fucking hated everyone anyway. Fuck Melissa, fuck Dad, fuck David, fuck Uncle Ben.

There were sometimes though, where you would make a stupid penis joke towards an actor on screen and wished Melissa was around to laugh in that obnoxious way she often would. Or that your Dad would still call you for his check ins with one of his million pet names. You wished David was still around to see if your company really made you supervisor, he owed you like $40 bucks from the bed. And other times you wished Uncle Ben still brought you those expensive gifts from his crazy trips.

But whatever…like you said. Fuck everyone.

You’re startled when the doorbell chimes, almost bumping your acetone all over the place. In confusion you look over to your clock hanging above the dining room wall. It was almost midnight. Who could it be at this hour?

You jump again when the doorbell rings for a second time. Whoever it was sure was impatient. Moving your pedicure items to the side, you stand up in annoyance, making your way over to the door. Quietly you peek into the peephole, hoping to see a familiar face. Oddly, no one seems to be outside. Yet the bell chimes again.

With great hesitance you pull the door open, only slightly.

The sight you’re met with leaves your jaw hanging open. On the other side of the door – right in front of you, stood Jeon Jungkook. Not a trace of emotion on his face as he glared at you and pushed the door open the rest of the way. You back up slightly. He was holding a bat covered in blood and dirt, red and black stains surrounded the smooth skin of his face. The stench of iron and gasoline makes you scrunch your nose, and you put a palm over it in disgust.

Jungkook stands there, staring at you. You wore a white silk kimono, one side of it delicately hanging on your arm and exposing your bare shoulder. Smitten by just the sight of you, he breaths in your strawberry musk – mixed with acetone for some reason. When he steps inside you let out a tiny gasp. Raising an eyebrow, he continues to watch you. He prepared a whole speech about how you’re his and he was here to punish you accordingly tonight but as soon as your glassy orbs met his, he lost all train of thought. Funny, he was tearing limbs and breaking bones a couple of minutes ago and now he feels like he can’t even advance his hand to touch you.

When you continue to look at him with such distaste, he expected you to scream, to cry, to run. He was expecting you to act like his prey usually does.

He was not expecting you to smile.

“What did you do?” You ask him in the biggest smile he’s ever seen you in.

It feels like the breath has been knocked out of him. You step closer to him, tilting your head to hear his answer but he’s struggling to form words. Fluttering your lashes, you patiently wait for him to talk.

“I…I-I killed him.”

“Killed who?” You ask without missing a beat. It seems like you’ve realized though as your mouth forms an O and you let out a laugh, “Wait, Mr. Kim? You really killed Kim?”

Jungkook nods as his heart starts beating faster. He’s not used to you being so close and acknowledging him. “And Jang”

“Whoooaaa, and Jang?” You jump up in enthusiasm, surprising poor Jungkook.

“Y-you don’t care?” He asks in a tiny voice

You give him a weird face, “Care? Why would I?”

When he gives you the most clueless face in return, you sigh – crossing your arms. He sure was naïve.

“I found your camera,” You begin, looking up to witness his shocked reaction. He looks like he wanted to say something, but you hold up a finger to stop him, “Well, actually I found all your cameras. The first one being the one with all those creepy pictures of me.”

“At first, I was shocked, and a little upset. Then I became scared. And then I realized…that I was actually scared” You stare at him with wide, insane eyes and he wonders why he’s never witnessed this side of you. It was kinda turning him on. “I was scared…holy shit I was scared of you and it was the best thing ever. Then I wondered if you had any other cameras…and I was right.”

Lifting your head to the left corner of the living room, you point at the spot. “I found the first one there, and the second one in the kitchen and then in the bathroom and so on.” Suddenly your face becomes solemn and you give him a scowl that makes him deflate like a small animal.

“Then I thought…Wow! so much interesting shit is happening in my life – in my own home and I had no fucking idea? Why? Because my stalker happened to be a bitchass coward who couldn’t make a move?”

He winces when you berate him, his head dropping and tears forming in his eyes. There was so much he wanted to tell you, but a headache was forming in his brain from all the gasoline he had inhaled. You place your hand under his jaw, gently bringing his face up to yours again, “That’s why I decided to lure you out myself. I took off the spycam in my room and decided to fuck my boss, hoping you’d come see and do something. Knew you would perch on my willow tree seeing how the photos in your camera were angled…Which by the way is a fucking mess! Clean up the nasty chaos you made on my precious tree tonight!”

Jungkook nods firmly, still processing what you said.

“S-so wait…wait then Kim was jus-”

“Yeah, Kim was just a pawn. He’s practically been begging to fuck me for years anyway, and I was gonna do it for that promotion he offered me. But this is better. Also, Jang touched my ass way too much on ‘accident.’ I didn’t want them to die, but I don’t exactly care either.”

Jungkook smiles shyly. The fact that used Kim to get to him. You didn’t care about Kim’s money or his power. He got insecure for no reason. And you had just asked him to stay by telling him to clean up his mess! If he’s right in guessing your intentions, then he feels that he’s going to burst out crying. Although he’ll still punish you for fucking him. That agony he felt was still deep inside his gut and he hadn’t been able to cum for two days, plotting this elaborate scheme of murder. With everything you were telling him, he didn’t think you’d mind much.

You’ve accepted him, after all. He’s enough for you.

You’re enough.

“Tell me what you did to them.”

“I beat them to a bloody pulp.” Jungkook says monotonously. It’s the first sentence he states without stuttering. “Attacked them both from behind with a single blow and cracked their skulls. Continued to beat the shit out of them then dropped Jang’s body to an alleyway. Broke both of his arms. Dragged him to an empty warehouse known for drug transactions where I fucked up Kim. Smashed his face in, his eyeball was hanging out by the end of it…it wasn’t very attractive. Then I threw gasoline all over the place and burned it to a crisp. Firefighters and Media’s probably there by now”

“Holy shit…that’s…fucking crazy,” You eye the bat. “What if you get caught”

“I won’t…they’ll say it was a rival drug gang. Left a few traces of underground trash” He answers as you lift your brows. There was a lot you didn’t know about him, especially the three years prior to him getting that job in your office. You wouldn’t know of the life he had before he laid his eyes on you, the co-worker with the beautiful smile showing him around his new workplace. He wasn’t interested in returning to a time before you became his purpose for existing, but he was smarter than he looks.

There was a lot he understood.

Jungkook frowns at the floor before making eye contact with you, “Do you…hate me?”

“…Your weird ass excites me Jungkook. I think I fucking love you.” Meh, honestly you weren’t really in love with him. But it wouldn’t hurt to say it cause you knew as long as Jungkook stayed this psychotic, he’s the only man you would come close to loving. You hadn’t ever been in love before, but you were willing to ty it out.

At your confession Jungkook shows you his bunny teeth and his eyes crinkle. It meant so much to him, you wouldn’t even be able to comprehend. These three years have gone very differently for both of you, after all. While you were out there losing people from your life and wasting your existence away, Jungkook was falling in love with you deeper and deeper each moment he spent watching you. To the point of complete, irreversible fixation. A loud bell rings inside his head and he chokes up.

“I love you, too.”

You grab his cheeks, lurching forward to kiss him and it only takes a second for him to reciprocate.

It was a sloppy, hungry kiss. Your tongues swirls around his and your teeth bump into each other. You lick the sides of his mouth, tasting someone else’s blood and the residue of fire. It makes you moan into him. With that the beast awakens, dropping the damn bat out of his hands and grabbing your ass instead, pulling you close to him. His wet muscle dominates yours easily, your legs giving out slightly and he rushes to hold you up by your thighs. Ever slip of his tongue has you clenching your core in excitement. Lewd noises fill your doorway as you hang onto his sturdy frame and he pushes harder and harder against you. He bites your lip and you whine, feeling him smile into your mouth. When you felt like you could no longer breathe, you pull back to stare at his blown-out pupils with lust fogging your mind.

Out of breath, he whimpers as you rub against his hard on. He was sexy as fuck with his lips swollen and glossy with your spit, pupils dilated, his jaw ajar and lurid sighs leaving him. Jungkook held onto you for dear life while waiting for your next move, you felt his thick fingers digging into your thighs. You smile at him with heavy lids, running a hand through his wild strands. Cautiously, he places his face into your exposed shoulder and inhales your scent. Shivering at the sensation, you groan as he starts biting at your neck aggressively, as if trying to make a statement. You coo at him, trying to calm him down by patting his head, and you wonder if it worked once he slows down and you feel tears amongst your bitten hickeys.

That’s what excited you the most about Jungkook. There was no certainty about him, you couldn’t predict him at all. Some part of you thought he would come to kill you instead of Kim or Jang and the rush you felt seeing him in your entrance drenched in blood almost gave you a standing orgasm. Right now, you have no fucking idea why he’s sobbing into your shoulder while dry humping you with such eagerness…was he happy? Was he mad? Was he sad? You couldn’t tell that Jungkook was absolutely enthralled to finally have you in his arms – touch you all he wanted – and he did have a very rough and bloody week. He was emotionally drained. What you did know, however, was that you haven’t felt this much thrill for a long, long time. And the root cause of it was this man baby in your arms, covering you with gore and ash.

What a weird guy.

You weren’t sure where this was headed, all you knew was that Jungkook would be pounding inside of you on your bed in a couple of moments. Without changing of course because the guts spilled across his shirt was making you drip down your thighs. Wrapping your arms against the crying bunny rabbit, you speculated if there was another extravagant plot you could cook up to get him to kill someone – this time right in front of you. After all, it was as if you were Frankenstein and he was your monster with rabbit features and brawny arms. The thought makes you chuckle before you notice how he’s began hiccuping and repeating his love for you on your skin. Sighing, you whisper in his ear to simmer down. It was getting difficult to breath with how he was smothering you. Oh well.

Looks like your night just got interesting.

#Jeon Jungkook #Bts #Jungkook smut #Jungkook angst #Yandere Jungkook #Bts smut #Bts angst #Yandere bts #R:BC

[writersblock0625]

THE GIFT | MYK X AMBW CHARACTER

2 :THE DINNER

"Lock the damn door." I say sternly with a little grit in my teeth.

Paring: YUNKI x AMBW CHARACTER

Word Count: 4.7K

Rating: 18+

Genre: Established Relationship w YUNKI

WARNINGS: fucking, oral, fingering, wax play

CHAPTERS: 01 : 02 : 03

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

Our time is up & we are getting ready to head home. YUNKI went to take a call & let Yoonyeon & Jun know we were leaving. I placed the ballet pointe shoes back in the black box with the envelope inside. I was super happy with my present from YUNKI. I picked up the box, held it to my chest, & did a little dance with it. As I shuffled around I heard him chuckle. I stopped dancing instantly. He had his gummy smile across his face with his right hand rubbing across his chest.

"You ready to go, babygirl?" YUNKI says with his hand out stretched to me.

I shuffle over to him & plant a kiss on his lips.

"Yes!" I say. He pulls me close by my waist & plants a kiss on my left temple & I am completely incandescently happy with him.

As we walk to the front, we wave goodbye to Yoonyeon & Jun, & spot the driver waiting for us outside. Once we exit the dance studio, YUNKI lets me into the SUV first & then himself. Once we are settled in, with seatbelts on, the driver takes us home.

"You're rubbing that box as if it's the most precious thing in the world?" YUNKI states raising an eyebrow to me, wrapping his right arm around my shoulders.

I chuckle, "No, not THE most precious thing in the world. The memory of the way they are now in my possession is one, but not the most important." I had my left hand running through his hair & my voice was almost a whisper in his ear at that last statement. He turned to face me. Our eyes had locked & he bit his lip. I sat the present to the right of me & I pulled him into me to fill his lips against mine. He pulled me close to him, his right arm gripping around my waist. Our kiss was just as intensified as last time but it was my turn to thank him & I couldn't wait to get him alone.

He pulls his lips from me & grazes his left thumb across my jawline. "Have you eaten yet?"

"No, I have not but I had something else on my mind for dinner?" As I maneuvered my hand across his bulge in his black jeans.

He gives a low growl into my neck, "hmm, we should really eat something beforehand." & he slaps my right hip & gives me a look of suspicion. He slips his hand through the side of my sweatpants & raises an eyebrow at me.

"No panties, Babygirl?" He whispers in my ear

I chuckle, "No, Daddy, you told me to dress comfortably. So, here I am, comfortable." As I wiggle closer to him, my face titles up towards him with a smirk upon my face.

He gives me a look & sucks air between his teeth. He eyes the partition and rolls it up. I dart my eyes back & forth from him to the partition.

"Sir Min Yunki, what are you doing? I don't recall getting you a present." I look at him, smirking.

He leans into me, his lips just brushing mine, pulling my left leg over his. His right arm pulling me,hugging me closer to his frame.

"Oh, but you did, that piece of joy across your face when you spun in front of me." With that, YUNKI was cupping my face with his left hand. His lips gently molding into mine.

YUNKI had slipped his hand under my hoodie to feel my bare back. A gasp escaped me, my skin warm & his hand just a slight colder. It made me press into his body more & to feel him pressed against me was starting to make me drip. YUNKI then moves his left hand from my face to my right thigh, rubbing it thrice over. He would stop to squeeze my thigh just inches from pussy. He finds my waist band & slips his hand into my sweatpants. Another gasp leaves me as this hand was cold,too, against my lower abdomen. I spread my legs a little more to grant him the access his desires & I hear him say, "Good girl" & he inserts two fingers in me. I moan against his lips, gripping his shirt with my right hand. He slowly pumps them in & out of me, teasing me with kisses across my neck & collarbone. He curls his fingers & shifts them to the left, adding a body shuddering pressure to my g-spot.

"So wet for me, babygirl, so hungry for me." He whispers against my neck.

"Yes, Daddy. I'm always hungry for you." I moan into his ear.

His pumping is slow at first, teasingly, & I start to move my hips a bit faster in rhythm with his fingers. I'm aching for more pressure from him, aching for his dick. I slowly throw my head back & moan louder, thrusting my hips against his fingers. I move faster as my pussy throbs & I could feel my undoing is near & so does YUNKI. He starts to slow down & I whine, bringing my head up to face him.

"Don't slow down, daddy, please?" I beg of him, needing my release now.

He pulls his fingers from me with sad eyes & a smirk. He brings his fingers to his lips not losing eye contact & as he opens his mouth I snatch his fingers from him. I insert them into my mouth to slurp my juices from him. I suck his fingers through lowered eyes, if I didn't get to cum, he doesn't get to taste my sweetness. YUNKI bites his bottom lip feeling the suction around his fingers, wishing it was his dick, if I got my way, eventually it will be. As I slowly remove his fingers from my mouth, I've realized that the vehicle had slowed down & stopped. I looked up with raised eyebrows & widen eyes.

YUNKI takes his hand away from me & places it on my right upper thigh & He begins to massage it.

"We're home, babygirl. I would've finished you had the ride been longer."

He plants a kiss on my neck. A cold shiver flows over me to my core making her melt more for him.

The driver had came around & open YUNKI's door. He gets out and extends a hand to me to help me out. I pick up my present from my right side & scoot out of the car, extending my left hand to YUNKI as I clutch the shoe box with my right. We both thank the driver & head towards the apartment lobby elevators. Once inside the elevators, I insert the apartment key next to our number & turn it. The elevator dings of acceptance & closes the doors. In that moment I'm met with YUNKI's body pressing my back against the elevator side with an intense kiss, that I in turn, return back to him, dropping the present to my side. Placing my hands through his hair & his hands going under my sweatshirt to feel my bare brown skin frame.

"What a rude thing you did back there, babygirl." He says between kisses

"Whatever do you mean? Nothing I did in the car warrants rudeness. If anything what you did was rude." I say breathlessly with a hint of bratty

He smiles against my lips moving his lips down my neck.

"& how was I suppose to continue, when we've arrived home?" YUNKI questions

His hands still roaming my body relishing in every curve. Me pressing my lower frame into his. I move my mouth to his ear, biting the lope.

"Lock the damn door." I say sternly with a little grit in my teeth.

The elevator then dings, signaling that we have arrived to our apartment & the doors sliding open. YUNKI eyes me, a little shocked I would've liked to scream his name outside in public, but I could tell he was turned on by the idea. I bend down to pick up the  gift, I could feel his dick pulsating against me on the ride up so I'm going to draw this out for as long as I can hold out. I may be punished for this later but I could use a spanking.

We exit the elevator, me first & YUNKI following after me. I sat the Gift atop the shoe cabinet & slip my shoes off & place on my SHOOKY slippers. YUNKI slips on his house slides & lets out a chuckle as I shuffle away towards the kitchen. I do a quick spin, walking backwards now facing him through the archway.

"You, Sir, do not get to laugh at my slippers. My feet get cold as winter starts to set in. Unless you wanna warm them with your legs tonight?"

I spin back to stop just in time to halt in front of the island. I shuffle to our Samsung French Door fridge to see what I can quickly whip up for us.

The apartment seems vast upon entry but it's really quite quaint for the two of us. Since it's evening there's an amber light setting that fills the apartment. When leaving the elevator, in front is two standing mirrored shoe cabinets. They are dark colored, with 3 rotating doors, with mirrors on each door. One we use for our shoes/slippers & the other is for friends & family. To the right, about 20ft away, is a floor to ceiling window with a view of Seoul. To the left is a long hallway to an additional spare bedroom with an en-suite bathroom at the end, a half bath next to it, & YUNKI's study/studio. Across from his studio is a rounded archway, medium width, to the dining area & staircase (to the left) to your private quarters upstairs. The walls are painted a medium grey throughout the apartment with dark hardwood floors, except the kitchen, dining, & baths. Those have tiled or stone flooring. To the right of the shoe cabinets is another archway, wider, that leads you to the living room with a fireplace. The area is open space for the kitchen & dining to the far left & the piano to the far right with a large window leaving no space for wall trim. There's 3 black couches encasing the living space with 2 coffee tables on the left & right of the middle couch. YUNKI had the piano place to the far right of the living room about two months ago for me to practice on. It sat on a raised platform, about 1ft off the floor. The area was empty for a few months after we had moved in until YUNKI saw me practicing on my Galaxy tablet. I had fell asleep practicing one evening while he was at the company working on the next album. 2 days later, a piano was being delivered just outside of the large window at the end of that room. He had came home just shortly after they had left & I was already stroking the keys up & down, elated of his gift to me.

YUNKI lets out a low throaty laugh at my question as he places his shoes inside the shoe cabinet.

"No, thank you, Babygirl. The first & last time you did that has scarred me for life. I cannot believe your feet get THAT cold."

He walks up & closes the left fridge door & eyes me up & down. I look at him with widen eyes, lips pressed, eyeing the fridge & him. Questioning his motive, I ask, "Yes?, My YUNKI?" I bite my bottom lip, closing the other fridge door. I turn to face him full frontal, sneaking my right hand under my sweatshirt, to tease, I'll probably pay for this later.

YUNKI gazes me & sees where my hand has gone. Biting his bottom lip, he looks up at me through lowered eyelids.

"I thought you were hungry for something else?" He brushes his restricted dick over his pants with his right hand.

"I was. But now I'm actually hungry." I say playfully

I move forward, now with both of my hands rubbing up his chest, over his shoulders & my right hand to play with his hair lightly. I press my core to his dick to feel him slowly pulsate. He lets out a low gasp & places his hands around my waist. He moves closer, his mouth going for my neck. I smirk & give a chuckle, my mistake. In a swift movement of his, YUNKI bends down & places his hand beneath my thighs to scoop me up to place me on the island. He hums a growl into my neck & it sends me back to the car ride. My pussy instantly reacting to him, dripping.

"You were plotting against me, Babygirl. That's gonna cost you this evening." He states as he grazes teeth against my neck.

I barely caught my breath when he picked me up & now I'm still trying to find it as I'm clinching to him. With him between my legs, slightly parted, Both of my hands fisting his plain black tshirt at his shoulders. His hands find their way under my sweatshirt, just barely tracing my back. Im relishing in him touching me & then, my sweatshirt is off. His hands came up to the opening of my neck, he grabbed both fists full of it & pulled it off of me. With my hands falling by my sides, revealing my Savage Fenty orange lace bralette, I shudder at the cool breeze against my skin & my nipples harden. He lets out a shuddered breath as he rubs the backs of 2 fingers against the front of my bralette to feel them. I wine my hips to give my pussy some friction & im wet. My legs have been closed tight so I feel a flood would rush down if I opened wider. YUNKI takes in a deep breath, lifting his head up towards to ceiling. Stretching his neck, exposing his Adam's apple as he swallows. I bring my right hand to trace it with my index finger & goosebumps arise on my skin.

I let out a moan & he lowers his head to make eye contact with me. He takes a few steps away from in between my legs, still brushing my nipples he tilts his head to the side & wets his lips. He's contemplating something & I have an inkling of what it is.

"Deciding wether to punish me now or later? Wether I can give you your "thank you" first or last?" I've leaned into his neck, brushing my lips across his skin.

"Oh, you'll be punished now. & I will be given my "thank you" now & later." He arches an eyebrow up at the last statement.

"Sweatpants. Off." He commands

I run my index finger along my waist band & alternating hips, I lift and remove the sweatpants from me letting them fall at his feet. My bare ass (& wet pussy) on the island. The cold marble countertop sends a chill & I make a mental note to clean this before cooking. YUNKI scans my now almost naked frame & my cockiness is started to subside. I'm just wanting him to touch me, anywhere, as long as his hands never leave my burning brown skin. I close my legs clinching my pussy with my thighs & a moan escapes me. YUNKI taps my knee, waving his index finger left to right.

"Tsk,tsk,tsk. None of that, Babygirl." YUNKI instructs

"Then, Daddy," I spread my legs open wide for him to see what I'm fighting. "What am I suppose to do?"

YUNKI lets out a growl & grabs my left thigh & squeezes it. Thumbing my inner thigh closet to my pussy, He lowers his head down into my core & I feel the slightest pressure of his nose against my clit. I let out a moan & move my right hand to grab his head but I stop short just above his head. Remembering this is punishment & ANY wrong move could leave me without getting my way at the end. GOD! How I want my way with him. At some point YUNKI had picked up speed & im rolling my hips against him. I can feel a pool of my juices gather underneath me & the feelings of a climax is coming. Just then YUNKI removes his nose & stands. He now has both hands on my thighs squeezing them just so. He slaps my right thigh with his left hand, turns, & starts to exits the kitchen. I whine at his lost of contact & instinctively Im ready to follow him.

"Don't move from that spot or additional spanking will be given!" He says this without looking at me.

So it is confirmed I am getting a spanking. I bit my lip at the thought because with YUNKI's spanking he'll either add biting to my ass or licking it...unless he has something else in store for tonight. I lean back onto the countertop arching my back needing him & just as I think I can slip my fingers into my needy core, he returns from upstairs with one of our bathroom candles; The Midsummer's Night. Upon entering the kitchen with the candle, we eye each other as I'm stretched out across the island. He sats the small candle down & lights it. I outstretched my arms above my head, arching my back while hiking my right leg up, keeping it bent at the knee. YUNKI walks to my left side, places his left hand beside my right hip. He lowers his face to my left hip to lightly brush his lips against my brown skin. I let out a whimper from his touch.

"Babygirl, Stay just like this. Punishment requires pain,but it's nothing you can't handle for Daddy, right?" He whispers into my side, ending with a kiss.

"Yes, Daddy."

The small candle has collected a small pool of liquid. YUNKI reaches for it & taps the side. He's gonna drip hot wax on me?! I'm worried about pain levels but I cannot deny the intense heat between my thighs.

"You're gonna get 10 drops of wax, Babygirl, & you're going to count them. I need you to tell me your safeword?"

"My safeword is PIANO" I stammer

"Good girl."

YUNKI begins to caress my abdomen in a 'S' like pattern, resting his hand at my right hip, massaging it. My arms still outstretched above my head, itching to rustle his hair. He hovers the candle just above my skin & I squirm a little in anticipation of pleasure & pain.

I feel the first drop of wax just under my right breast. It stings for a minute & then cools. I drop my mouth & let out a gasp as my chest expands from the pain.

"1" I say breathlessly

The second drop at my left hip.

"2"

The third drop at my inner left thigh. He continues to drop the hot wax in various places. He placed 3 around my breasts, 2 on my right thigh, & 2 more just on my mound. Those last 2 closet to my pussy sent a rush of heat & I could feel her flooding onto the counter. YUNKI has moved himself between my legs & starts to peel away the wax pieces and kisses each area. I wilt under his touch as his hands caress my frame from the tops on my shoulders to my thighs. YUNKI moves slow, milking my pleasure for all its worth. When removing the pieces from my breasts, he kneaded them & sucked my nipples. Attending to each one with care, he pushed my breasts together & sucked my under breast. As he makes his way down to the last 5 pieces of wax, he lets his lips walk down the middle of my torso, never leaving my body.

"You did so well for me, Babygirl, are you ready for your reward?" He whispers against my skin

"Mmmh, Y-Yes, Daddy." I whimper

YUNKI removes the cold wax from my left hip & tongues the small marking that the hot wax had left & kisses it. I squeeze my legs together forgetting he's in the middle & he chuckles & bites my hip. He does small tracings of my frame with his fingertips, up & down, as he moves to my right thigh & removes the 2 pieces of cold wax, he kisses them as well. Lastly are the pieces on my mound. He removes the first one & tongues the area. His right hand has started to massage my bikini line & she starts to pulsate. My heart rate picks up as YUNKI has already removed the last piece of wax & now both hands are at my bikini line. He's sucking various parts of my mound looking up at me through hooded eyes & tousled bangs. YUNKI moves lower & lower to my clit never losing eye contact with me. He starts to kiss the sides of my pussy lips, edging me. I bend my legs, place my feet on his back, rubbing them up & down. He teases with a lick up my lips & it causes me to move my legs like butterfly wings. He rounds back up to the top of my clit & breathes on me. At this point I'm ready to ride his face & take whatever punishment is headed my way. I start to sit up, extend my arms to his head & I catch a glimpse of his smirk & I am thrusted into his face. His arms had moved under my thighs to keep them over his shoulders & his mouth & tongue had finally taken me. He's licking up all my juices from earlier & thrusting his tongue inside me like monsoon waves. Between flicking my clit, he would pop up & give me small praises.

"You're so wet for me & you're taking your reward so well,Babygirl. Are you gonna cum hard for Daddy?"

"Mmm" is all I could manage but sounded more like a whine of surrender.

To see his grip on my thighs, using great force to keep me still, turns me on even more. He dives back down assaulting my clit with his tongue while holding me still from squirming so much. He's doing long licks between my folds, barely touching my clit. I open my legs wider to give him more space to work with & He sucks air through his teeth & slaps my right thigh.

"Yes, Babygirl, just like that. Open up real wide for me."

YUNKI dives back down like a man on a mission. To make me cum. He aggressively does laps on my clit & I feel she has grown in size. I could feel my pussy trying to clinch onto something but nothing was there. YUNKI thrust his tongue into my entrance, making slurping noises as he laps up my juices. I'm losing control & I can't hold back.

"Daddy, *exhales* Daddy..." Breathlessly urgent

"Not until I say" he says quickly

He's doing his laps again up & down my folds, my flood gates ready to burst. He slaps the underside of my left thigh & returns the assault to my clit.

"Daddy, I...I.."

*chuckles* "hmm, Cum"

As YUNKI commands this of me, he flicked my clit twice, I came undone & his whole mouth was at my entrance. His tongue was like the red carpet giving my juices VIP access to his mouth. I felt him sucking me & it was so nice. The overall feeling coursing through me was somewhere between floating & falling. My body fell back onto the counter top, still relishing in how YUNKI made me came just now. I wanted more, more of him.

YUNKI stands up & removes his button down, jeans, & boxers. There's a darken spot, about the size of a tennis ball on his boxers just to the bottom left of his waistband. His dick is painstakingly throbbing with blood rushed to the head & veins pulsating with his heartbeat. YUNKI had girth & length to him, but today, it's as if he's been overly worked up. His precum is steadily oozing out the tip & I can't decided if I wanna suck him off or have him fuck me again. He roughly kneads my left thigh as he moves his dick up & down between my folds.

"You ready,Babygirl?" He asks in a low tone

No words, just sounds leave my mouth & I feel him push through my entrance. My walls, excitingly tightening around him pulling him farther in. He grips my thighs as he cusses through gritted teeth. He starting to glisten beads of sweat on his forehead & I can tell he's trying to hold back. Once YUNKI bottoms out in me, he thrusts me onto him so my ass is now over the countertop. Both of his arms are back underside my thighs as he readies to fuck me into oblivion.

"How sensitive are you, Babygirl?"

YUNKI licks his thumb & begins to move toward my clit.

"VERY!" I shout not ready to cum just yet

"Remember the rule, you don't cum until I say so."

"AHHH!" A shouted moan leaves my lips

YUNKI has begun massaging my swollen clit with his thumb & thrusting his dick in turn.

"Fuck! You feel so good, Babygirl. Pussy so fucking tight for Daddy."

I can't say the overstimulation hurts but it's painfully arousing. He's licking his lips as he watches me fight cumming on him without his command. He stops assaulting my clit to focus on damaging me with his dick. Thrusting hard enough in me to have me shout & then giving me long dick strokes. He slaps my left thigh & pulls out. He's heavy breathing now & his dick is pulsating.

"Turn over, Babygirl, let me see that ass."

I slide forward off the counter & turn to have my ass face him. I bend so I lay flat on the countertop & YUNKI gives my ass a hard smack on the right & then another smack on the left. I yelped both times & coo at him massaging the pain away. He slides his dick back into my entrance & reaches his hands to the tops of my shoulders & begins to fuck me from the back. The only sounds I can hear are our skins slapping from his thrusting & his growls. As he moves his hands down my back to settle on my hips, I get a little cocky & place my feet in position. I kinda feel him slow in pace a little but I can't have him have the upper hand, so I throw my ass back on him in turn. Meeting him at every thrust he gives me, knowing he's still in control of me cumming, I just wanted to give something back. YUNKI pulls me up, my back against his chest & slips his hand over my clit, rubbing her with two fingers.

"A little gift, was that, Babygirl? Throwing that ass back on me cause I've treated you so well?" He whispers into my ear.

"Y-Yes, Daddy, am I in trouble? Do-Do I get another spa-spanking?" I stutter & knowing I wanted one

"Only if you want it." He whispers

"YES!" I shouted

& with that YUNKI puts me back on the countertop & smacks my ass 4 times.

"Ah, shit, Babygirl, I'm not gonna hold out much longer. You clenching from that spanking felt too damn good."

"Daddy, I don't think...I don't think...I..I"

"Ooo, I feel you, Babygirl. Hold on, not yet."

YUNKI continues to thrusts his dick into me. Bottoming out in me, making our skins slap together & filling the apartment with it. He bends down over me, massaging my right hip & plants his lips at my ear. His pumping has slowed and long again.

"Babygirl, I want you to cum on this dick."

With that YUNKI starts to rub my clit & moves back to his earlier pace of bottoming out in me. I'm convulsing, slamming my open palms onto the counter, repeatedly saying his name at a low whisper until I'm realizing I'm getting closer to my demise.

"Daddy, daddy, daddy, DADDY!"

& at last I've cum, but YUNKI hasn't stopped. He's still applying the pressure to my clit, my legs ready to give way.

"Stay right there, Babygirl"

I feel him throbbing inside & I feel another climax building in my pussy.

"Aaah, aaah" I exclaim

The overstimulation here is all about I can take. This may be it for me tonight.

"Cum again, Babygirl"

My legs shake & we cum together. YUNKI still overstimulating my clit & thrusting that dick in me, unloading cum right inside me. We are still hunched over the counter, trying to catch our breath. He slips out of me, causing me to flinch, & turns me to face him. He pulls me close & kisses me on the lips, sweet & gentle.

"You did so well for me, Babygirl. We should really eat now, but first I should get you cleaned up." He strokes my left cheek, scoops me up in his arms, & we head upstairs to our bathroom.

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

CHAPTERS: 01 : 02 : 03

THE GIFT MASTERLIST

#yunki ambw #yoongi ambw #yoongi x character #yoongi smut #yunki #min yunki #min yoongi #bts ambw #bts suga #bts fanfic #bts smut

[creamypudding]

Woeful WIP Wednesday

I last touched this WIP in August 2020. It was for the AkuRoku beard event I had tried to get underway for World Beard Day which is annually on September 1st. I never finished the story because it was getting very technical with beard related care products and a lot of sex. Like a lot of it. I have notes where they fuck each other like 4 times? On the couch, in the shower, in bed. I don’t know why I stopped writing it. It’s outlined but I ran out of steam and interest.  As much as I am a smut-writing champion you’d be surprised how often I write stories only to run completely out of steam once I get to the smut. Go figure. In this story Axel and Roxas are in a long distance relationship and have a wager on who can grow the better beard. It is rated T and stops a bit before the ‘good stuff’ was going to happen. Word count - 2385 If you enjoy this, or any of the other WIP’s it would be great if you would let me know. Cheers.

Homecoming

The date, time, and location were set; 1st April, 6pm, Olga's—a favorite haunt of their family and friends’, and the best place to get Polish sausages. Roxas stood a little way down the road from the establishment, his two suitcases; a small one stacked on top of the large one, in hand as he looked at his reflection in his phone's camera. He brushed at his Banholz beard; big, bushy and grew to about his mid-chest. He had oiled, brushed, trimmed, and shaped it to look its best, for today was a monumental day. 6 months ago he had been dared to grow a beard by his boyfriend, Axel. Roxas had agreed but only if they would have a competition to see who could grow the best beard, to be judged by a panel of their relations and peers. 

Roxas thought himself ready and walked on, wheeling his suitcases along behind himself. This competition was the precise reason why Roxas now entered the cozy restaurant. It had been booked out for the occasion and was filled with family and friends who all greeted Roxas with raucous cheers of— 

“Roxas! You’re back!”

“Good to see you!”

“Is that really you under there?”

“Axel! Axel, your competition has arrived!”

The suitcases were tugged away from Roxas and the throng of people around him cleared revealing, there, across the space, standing at the head of a banquet table laden with bigos, golonka, pierogi, schabowy, placki, pączki and a range of drinks like compotes, oranżada, piwo, and żubrówka, was Axel in familiar jeans and a black shirt with flame motifs that Roxas had bought him as a gift two years ago. They looked at each other across the space.

Voices sang out, praising the magnificent beards they both sported.

Roxas saw Axel’s thick, dark beard; a Bandholz, like his own. They walked toward each other and stopped in the middle of the floor. Roxas craned his neck to look up, Axel smirked down.

“You look like a real Viking,” Axel said.

“You look like a mismatched pirate. Didn’t feel like dyeing your beard?”

“It’s too much red. Makes me look like a tomato. I’ll show you the photos of when I tried.” “Cool.”

They grinned at each other and Axel threw his arms around Roxas, lifting him off the ground in a tremendous hug. Roxas’ face got smothered in the scratchy beard but he still giggled and when he dropped back to the ground hooked his hands around Axel’s neck and gave him a chaste peck on the lips.

They pulled apart laughing a little. 

“That’s something new to get used to,” Axel commented, rubbing his lips.

Roxas nodded and threaded his fingers through Axel’s.

“Come on everyone,” Sora, Roxas’ half-brother, shouted over the crowd. “Now that both our competitors are here let's get the judging going and then eat!” Cheers of enthusiasm rose and Axel and Roxas were ushered before the panel. 

Roxas and Axel were examined in turn, their beards evaluated for physical appearance: thickness, length, feel. And then for popularity, which opened up to the entire group of assembled people.

Roxas grinned up wildly as he was crowned Beard King and received a victory parade amongst the shoulders of his friends to wild chanting before he was dropped on his ‘throne’, which was just a high backed chair in the middle of the banquet table laid out. He was presented with an enormous hamper of goodies relating to beard care and then Axel took his seat next to Roxas and everyone joined in on eating all the delicious food before them.

Much talk was had over dinner regarding Roxas’ time away—as he studied in a different state and only came back home over the summer and Christmas breaks. He was caught up in everyone else’s lives as well and then after three hours of eating, chatting, and boozing, wished everyone a good night as well as thanking everyone for crowning him king and coming out, and then he wheeled his luggage to Axel’s red Kia Cerato coup parked at the restaurants car park and got in to go back to their place.

“What does my liege want to do when we get home?” Axel asked, fondling the tip of Roxas’ beard as he drove along the street.

“I want to go through that basket of goodies with you, play with your beard, and play with you. I’ve missed you so much.” Roxas clasped Axel’s hand and rubbed it against his cheek.

Axel stroked him when he stopped his rubbing motion. “At least we get three long months of being together until you have to go back to college.” Roxas groaned. “It’s going to be so good, even when I do have to go back because we’ll be able to video call and won’t have to keep this beard stuff a secret from one another anymore.”

Axel nodded. “Yeah. If I had known what we were getting into I might not have agreed to this. Six months is too long without seeing your… well… rugged face. I can’t really call you pretty now, can I? I didn’t actually believe you’d look so much older with a beard.” “C’mon, you didn’t even think I could grow one. Not that I know why. You’ve seen dad, he’s always had a really respectable circle beard.” Axel shrugged. “I guess I look at your baby face and just… could never picture it.” “I’ll make sure we take a lot of photos so you’ll never forget. Have I shown you photos of dad from when he didn’t have a beard? I get my baby face from him. Underneath his beard, you’d think he’s twenty years younger than he is.” “Can’t say I’ve seen those. So when you’re fifty you’ll look thirty?”

“You know it. I can be your baby-faced sugar-daddy.” Roxas cracked up laughing at Axel’s bewildered scowl.

“For one, you are only two years older than me, and two, at this moment I’m your sugar-daddy since I work.” “True, but once I finish my degree and start working I’ll make so much money that you’ll be able to go part-time and look after our fur-babies.”

A strangled noise left Axel’s throat. “This is why I love you so much. You’re willing to protect me from a grueling working life.” Axel quickly leaned over, Roxas also leaned in and they shared a small kiss.

Roxas giggled. “So tickly and hairy.” ----------------------------------------------------

They arrived at their small cottage-esque house which they were renting. It had an undercover carport, a disheveled wooden fence, dry grassy patches, and a dead flowerbed. The door opened up right to their living room. A hallway ran through the door on the right, leading to the two bedrooms, and bathroom, with a separate toilet, and to the left of the living room was a door which led to the kitchen and laundry. Their backyard was an overgrown monstrosity which Axel only tended to when the landlords came around for inspections. The house was drafty, they were pretty sure black mold grew in the vents in the laundry and bathroom, but it was affordable, small, and let them live together when Roxas came home over college breaks.

Axel helped Roxas get his bags out of the car, they stowed them away to deal with later and sat on their plush, tan faux-leather couch whilst rifling through the content of the prize basket.

“It was really nice of everyone to pitch in and get us this gift basket,” Axel said, pulling out a beard-care kit consisting of several brushes, some oils and waxes, and a few trimming essentials.

“What do you mean us? This is mine.” Roxas glared, but he couldn't repress the bubbling-inside grin.

“You're really gonna use all of this Beard Candy and King of Wood all by yourself?” Axel held up the respectively named balm tin and oil bottle.

Both of them giggled.

“I might.” Roxas grabbed for the bottle. “I am king of wood.”

“You're more candy, darling.” Axel snatched the bottle and shoved the tin at Roxas.

Roxas gasped with playful offended. “Not true. I am King Beard. Everyone thinks so. We had a vote, remember?”

“We did. You really want to keep all this to yourself though?”

“Nah. WHat’s mine is yours—Oooo! There’s dye and glitter!”

Axel looked at the packets Roxas held up and went diving into the basket. “Ribbons too. Who do you reckon snuck this stuff in?”

Roxas thought for a moment humming and hawing. 

“Sora!” they both shouted in unison and cracked up laughing.

Axel put the items he held down and got up. “You want anything, babe? Tea? Hot chocolate? Water?”

“A tall drink of something hot and sweet.” Roxas made eyes at Axel, who grinned broadly. 

A spark of lust ignited in Axel’s eyes. He stepped close to Roxas, bent down and kissed him, pushing him against the couch. The hairs against Roxas’ lips tickled. He wrapped his arms around Axel’s shoulders, pulling them chest to chest and Axel climbed up to straddle Roxas’ lap. Roxas pushed his tongue into Axel, who sucked gently. Both of them hummed and pulled apart. 

“I do actually want a drink though,” Roxas sniggered.

“On its way, sugarplum.” Axel slid off and headed to the kitchen.

Roxas’ cheeks were plump and hot from all the smiling. He had missed Axel so much. He listened to Axel banging away in the kitchen, as taps turned on and off, drawers and cupboards opened and shut, and container lids popped in and out of place. Roxas kept looking through the goodies in the basket. He really appreciate everyone's support, but most of all Axel's for doing this with him—even if they were pitted against each other. 

Axel talked to him from the kitchen. They talked about Roxas’ flight home, Axel's job and then Axel was back, carrying a tall mug of steaming liquid, gasped with whipped cream. He set that down on a coaster before Roxas and put a much more sensibly succeed mug down for himself, filled with what smelled like chili tea.

“It's so good to have your back, babe.” Axel leaned over and kissed Roxas, who cupped Axel’s cheek and stoked along where skin met beard. Roxas could taste the light spice on Axel's lips as he had been sipping his tea before he had come in.

Axel left small touches on Roxas’ arms, trailing up to his neck where slender fingers caressed and rubbed. Roxas melted into the touch and hungered with his kissing of his boyfriend.

Axel pulled away, licking his lips. “Have your drink. I slaved over it.”

“Oh, what hard work it was to push buttons, wait for water to boil, and open the fridge to get whipped cream out.”

“It was the hardest. I had to do it all without you there.”

Axel was being ridiculous but it twinged in Roxas’ heart. “Okay, I retract my previous sarcastic remark.” He grabbed his drink, snuggled closer to Axel, and licked at the cream and sipped, humming with appreciation.

Axel looked down at Roxas and simply said, “Yum.”

Roxas huffed out a small laugh and felt his cheeks turning pink. He was glad for his beard.

“You're giving me all sorts of ideas looking like that.” Axel quirked an eyebrow.

Roxas’ stomach knotted. Having been debited their webcam sessions made him feel excessively deprived of his boyfriend touch. “Kiss me.”

Axel obliged, leaning down, sucking Roxas’ lip onto his mouth for brief moments and then flicking his tongue over Roxas to lip, licking the cream off which gathered in his beard.

Roxas held his drink away from the both of them and gently pulled on the end of Axel's beard, drawing the other man in for another kiss. Roxas pulled away then, humming. “I've missed you, babe. Let's never have a comp like this again.”

“Your beard as itchy as mine feels?” Axel scratched at his chin.

Roxas chuckled. “No. It feels pretty good, but I mean the not being able to see each other bit.”

“Ahh, yeah. Agreed. I mean, this,” he brushed the fuzzy edge of Roxas’ beard, “is actually surprisingly attractive on you, but I get what you mean.” Axel leaned in and hushed against Roxas’ love, “Your voice in my ear is honey to me but seeing you touching yourself is my bread and butter.” Axel kissed Roxas behind his ear, making him shiver.

Roxas nuzzled Axel's cheek, making them both giggle because their beards tickled.

Axel clapped Roxas’ thigh. “C'mon, let's do some beard stroking and grooming. I want my beard to look like Nori from the Hobbit. Which dwarf do you want to be?”

Roxas laughed. They had been talking about the wacky beards of the dwarves from that movie trilogy for at least two months now. “Gloin. His beard is magnificent!, plus, I found a packet of beads at the bottom of the basket.”

Axel nodded. “All right, my glorious Norse God. Let's doll each other up.”

Roxas giggled with delight.

They spent the next two hours taking turns combing and braiding each other's beards. Roxas split Axel's dark, silky beard into three prongs, found done large clasps to target the end and hair-sprayed the shit out of the two outer parts of the beard to make them stand stiff and jut out from Axel's face.

Then it was Roxas’ turn. Axel sectioned parts off, braiding and beading the thick, wiry hair into the desired shape. 

They shared many kisses throughout and traversed down memory lane as they recalled the early days of growing out their beards and how itchy the first few weeks were. Thinking about it made both of them itch.

When their beards were all finished they took a photo as a keepsake.

“Are you sure you want to shave off our chin-curtains tomorrow?” Axel asked, touching Roxas’ dark blond hair.

Roxas burst out laughing. “Chin-curtains? Are you getting attached to yours? You've been doing nothing but complaining about it for months.”

“Well, I like all the touching. I like us sitting together and doing each other.” Axel couldn't keep a straight face as he said that.

Roxas rolled his eyes as he smiled brightly. “We can still touch each other no matter what.” He slid an arm around Axel's waist.

#akuroku #akrk #beard #wip #woeful wip wednesday #cream pudding writes

[propertyofnikkisthighs]

The Tattoo

Requested: Yes by Anon a while ago (sorry it took me a bit)

Warnings: None

I adjusted the wrap on my forearm again to make sure the small tattoo placed there was covered. It’s not that I couldn’t show my tattoos at work, I dressed celebrities for pete’s sake, it’s just that tattoo was the only one I hated explaining. See everyone is born with some way of finding their soulmate and mine happens to be that damn tattoo. My parents are able to read each other’s thoughts which was weird for them when they met at the restaurant my mother worked at and my father kept thinking that he wanted nothing more than to speak to her and my mom thought “So do it then”, my best friend and her husband had internal clocks that counted down to the second they met, and my boss has a mark only her and her wife (my other boss) can see from the first time they touched.

“(Y/N) have you gotten the outfits ready?” My boss, Rin, asks me despite triple checking that I brought everything she had requested.

“Yes I did” I sing songed pulling the rack into the tiny make shift living room of the hotel room.

“Okay great the client should be here any minute.” As if on cue there was a knock on the door. “Must be him!”

Rin was soon followed into the small living area by a tall and heavily tattooed man that I quickly realized was Machine Gun Kelly. He wasted no time in lighting a joint as I prepared the different suit and shirt options.

“I’d like to try on the pink suit first with that white shirt” He spoke looking directly in my eyes and for a moment I froze.

“Earth to (y/n)” Rin coughed.

“Sorry uh yes right this way into the room” I shook my head. I’ve never been caught off guard by a celebrity before and I had seen some shit. 

He followed me into the room and began to undress from his large long sleeve and sweatpants that both seemed far too big for his lanky frame. I laid out his suit and tried to avert my eyes from him standing in his boxers behind me. Why was this different? I had been through this millions of times and never felt embarrassed or nervous like this.

“So dark socks and dark shoes with this would be the move right?” His voice pulling me out of my head as I watched smoke billow out with his words.

“Yes dark socks and shoes or else you would wash yourself out.”

“Can I get the black suit with the red shirt?” his languid fingers undoing the buttons on his shirt.

“Yes I’ll go get it” I felt my face beginning to blush and mentally scolded myself for not having better control.

He had gone to the bathroom to look at himself in the mirror and I took the opportunity to remove the wrap from my arm and air it out. There was a suck in of a breath behind me and I turned to find him staring at my tattoo as if it could burn him.

“Get out.” His voice wobbled.

“I’m sorry did I do something?” I questioned confused by the shift in demeanor.

“I said get out. Get the fuck out.” His voice raised and I scrambled to get my stuff before exiting the room. 

“Hey Rin can you go take over in there for me?” I spoke around the lump in my throat. “I think I’m gonna make a coffee run.”

“Oh yes.” She smiled then raised her voice slightly to call into the room. “Colson, do you want a coffee?”

“Uh yeah can I just get a regular cold brew please” He grumbled.

I returned with the coffee and unfortunately for me I was greeted by Colson pacing in the living room. I offered him his drink and he took it with a quiet “Thank you”. The uncomfortable silence settled in making the air in the room feel thick with tension.

“I’m sorry if I did anything to offend you.” I finally said.

“No no you didn’t. I’m sorry I panicked.” He sighed and walked closer to me causing my heart to begin thumping loud in my ears.

“Because of the suits?”

“No. Because of this.” He thrust his forearm at me and smack dab in the middle of all his tattoos was my tattoo. The hand holding a cigarette between two fingers. Staring right back at me.

“I- woah” I touched it softly and it was as if tiny sparks shot through my fingertips.

“I told your boss to let you pick out any dress that matched my suit. I’ll be picking you up at 8 on Saturday to take you to the awards show with me.” He shrugged his big shirt back on.

“Wait I can’t go to that with you” I didn’t mingle with celebrities like that. I couldn’t go to an award show.

“Why not? How many times does your soulmate offer to buy you a nice dress and take you to an award show as a first date?” He flashed a cocky smile and my heart skipped a beat.

Soulmate. My soulmate.

“Okay.” I returned the smile “Okay soulmate. I’ll be your date.”

“Hope you like tequila and weed” He stepped closer to me and I had to look up to meet his eyes.

“Bet.”

Colson and I giggled as he pushed his key into the door of the hotel room and we stumbled (nearly tumbled) into the room. The tequila making us warm and causing more giggles to bubble to the surface.

“You look so beautiful. I couldn’t take my eyes off you all night.” Colson spoke in a moment of sobering clarity.

“Thank you. You looked very handsome” He held my chin between his thumb and finger and slowly began to close the space between us.

My eyes fluttered close and our lips touched softly and the sparks I had felt from touching his tattoo shot through my body again. Our lips molded together and the fronts of our body pressed together. We finally pulled apart to look at each other again and the cocky smile graced his face once again. 

“I could do that all the time.” He ran his hand down my arm trailing his finger over my tattoo before lacing our fingers and pulling me against him again.

“Bet.” I smiled standing on my tip toes to connect our lips again.

#machince gun kelly fanfic #machine gun kelly #mgk imagine #mgk fanfic #mgk #colson baker

[spookyceph]

Comfort Zone Pt. 1

A Shigaraki & Toga fic! Because the League becoming friends is just about my favorite thing ever. Also, it's running long, so I split it into two parts.

Rating: T and up

Relationships: Shigaraki Tomura & Toga Himiko, Dabi/Shigaraki Tomura (hints of)

Warnings: Swearing, anxiety attacks, disturbing thoughts, self-harm (in the form of Shigaraki’s scratching), mentions of blood

Even after shoving the door to the downstairs bathroom shut and locking it behind him, Tomura couldn’t convince his heart to stop slamming against his ribs like a caged animal.

How he’d let this happen—why he’d allowed it to—he couldn’t begin to piece together. He’d been so pissed when Dabi had intruded on his solitude at the bar. But then…then the bastard had started talking. Worse, he’d made sense. As if that hadn’t been enough, Dabi had given him a gift before leaning in close, so close, close enough to touch—touch!—his face, to tangle warm fingers in his hair, and shitshitfuckinghellwhatwashesupposedto—

Gasping for the air that had suddenly abandoned the room, Tomura sagged against the sink. No. The walls were not closing in on him. He wasn’t about to suffocate. His brain was just convinced that was the case because it was busy drowning in swells of adrenaline and anxiety. One hand flew up to his neck. The sting of his nails ripping open new furrows across old scratches caused his flailing thoughts to freeze. Seizing the opportunity, he groped for another lifeline.

“W-white counter. Lavender soap. Blue…fuck.” He gouged his nails deeper, countering anxiety’s own claws in his guts. “Blue. The fucking goddamn towel is blue. Like his—”

The resulting jolt of shock at what had nearly escaped his mouth knocked panic’s grip right off of him.

Tomura turned the sink faucet on and stuck his icy, quaking hands under the warm stream of water. The sensation of it flowing and sliding between all five of his fingers like nothing solid could helped ground him further. Cupping his palms, he caught enough to splash onto his face and scrub away the clammy sheen of stress sweat. Too late, he remembered the fresh coating of salve. Droplets raining down his cheeks and chin, Tomura lifted his head to confront his reflection.

Cracked and crinkled rice paper skin. Beauty mark like a droplet of ink to one side of his mouth. Vertical scar splitting the symmetry of his lips. White wisps of hair that Kurogiri had long since stopped suggesting he comb curling every which way. Eyes as round and rawly red as the healing exit wounds that shitheel Snipe had given him as parting gifts. Or the thin streams of blood trickling from his shredded neck, soaking into his shirt. The same list of features he’d had as long as he could remember—no more than fifteen years back before recollections slid into oblivion, admittedly, but long enough. Tomura squinted, studying each one, struggling to imagine what they might look like through eyes the bright blue of lightning.

Don’t expect me to share my chapstick, though. You’re on your own with that one, creep.

Tomura’s jaw tightened until his temples throbbed. Sensei had once had him take some standardized tests from the most prestigious schools in the country, just to show him how narrow society’s thinking could be. He’d aced every one…yet he’d walked right into Dabi’s little joke. The bastard had probably laughed all the way back to his room at Tomura’s gullibility. Even with half his skin barbequed, face full of staples and stitches like a campy horror movie character, he’d obviously been born a golden child, tall and beautiful and strong. Probably doted on by everyone around him until whatever little accident had tarnished his shine. Driven into the dark of the underworld, he still retained the same entitled attitude. Someone like Tomura—no pedigree, no social standing, and thus no need to kiss anyone’s ass—would be vermin to him.

Think of this another way. As a show of trust.

There. Better?

Here. Keep it. Should last awhile.

The righteous fire in Tomura’s chest dwindled and fizzled. A smaller but much more alarming warmth kindled along his cheekbones. Okay, fine. Dabi’s expression hadn’t belonged to a purebreed staring down his nose at a stray mongrel when he’d said those things, but so damn what? He’d smirked and teased and bulldozed right through every boundary he found.

Why, then, hadn’t Tomura erased his annoying existence from the world? Or at least beat some respect into him? Just because he’d been nice for two seconds? Tomura preferred to think he wasn’t so pathetic that he could be swayed by such an insignificant gesture.

People always show their real selves when they’re pissed.

The tang of copper coated his tongue as he chewed on his nails—his second favorite method to tear himself apart. What if…what if insults and arrogance were tactics? Ways for Dabi to gather intelligence and gain the upper hand? Tomura did much the same on the rare, awful occasions he had to interact in public, just in the opposite direction—he pretended to be a harmless drone of hero society like everyone else. In that light, Dabi’s intentions had been genuine even though his approach relied on deception.

Aloof characters who nevertheless gave their all for the party when it came down to it were always the most useful in games. Not to mention usually Tomura’s favorites.

Right. That concluded his thinking about the subject for the night. Or eternity.

Door opened a crack, Tomura peeked out into the hallway. Not a soul. He cocked his head, listening. Not a whisper or peep. Mindful of every creaky floorboard, he crept out. Slunk upstairs like a thief in his own base of operations. Hardly dared to breathe until he’d shut and locked the door to his room behind him.

Nerves still crawling beneath his skin, Tomura glanced over at the laptop sitting on the small desk against one wall. To the TV mounted on the other, framed by shelves of games to various consoles. He would’ve liked nothing more than to have a glowing screen absorb his attention, but he knew his focus was too scattered to play anything. Scanning the online news feeds would yield nothing but chatter about Stain or All Might—his fingers latched back onto his neck just thinking about it. He couldn’t wear himself out with training since that meant going back downstairs to use the mats and equipment in the basement. No fucking way was he setting foot in the bar for the next few days. Maybe not for years.

He knew he shouldn’t have let anyone stay here. Now he was trapped, a prisoner in his own goddamned room, all because he’d let an overcooked piece of human yakitori put his soft, stapled hands on him, and—

The rising swells of panic dropped and went utterly still as Tomura’s eyes darted to his closet. Of course. Such an obvious answer. He should’ve known what to do from the beginning.

Aah, you poor thing. What are you so afraid of? All you have to do is follow your heart.

As always, Sensei had provided for him.

Sliding one side of the closet open, Tomura picked up a long wooden box from its resting place beneath his neatly hung clothing. He gently set it in the middle of the room before retrieving a cloth from his desk. Sitting on his heels in front of the box, he wiped a few stray specks of dust from its lacquered surface. Though his memory of receiving it (not to mention its contents) remained lost somewhere in the murky haze of his childhood, the familiar action alone reassured him. Sensei had instructed him to care for it and he had, polishing it every week without fail for fifteen years.

Sleeves over the heels of his palms to prevent smudges, Tomura carefully lifted the lid.

The stench of formaldehyde sprang out immediately. It reached straight down his throat and clenched his guts with corrosive fingers. Despite the urge to vomit everything in his body cavity up, a mantle of calm settled over Tomura’s shoulders. As wretched, as vile, as stomach-wringing as they were, the sensations were familiar. They’d woven themselves into his makeup as tightly as his DNA. The same could be said for what lay inside the box.

Paler even than him against their nest of black coffin velvet, fourteen human hands lay in two neat rows. Well, thirteen—one was merely a replica, a replacement. The metal caps on the wrists gleamed sallow gold under the room’s light. Poised on the razor’s edge between sickened and serene, Tomura reached for them in the usual order.

First, the smallest ones, curled around his wrists. A larger pair with aged, wrinkled skin and knobby knuckles clamped to his biceps next. A similar but slimmer version of those followed on his forearms. The hands with the longest, loveliest fingers encircled his neck in fourth place. Two sets of brutish, blocky ones latched onto his shoulders, then his sides just beneath his arms.

Naturally, the best he saved for last.

Tomura fixed the replica to the back of his head almost absently. His attention was reserved for its partner: a left, the largest hand, the father of its macabre little family. He lifted it with the same care a collector would a preserved butterfly. With a fingertip he mapped out the valleys and ridges of bones and strong sinew along the back. Turning it over, he traced the lifeline etched across its palm that had most definitely lied. The way the scar cleaving his lips tingled and burned had nothing to do with the savage grin that split Tomura’s face. He rubbed his chin to be sure the feeling of blood drooling down it was only a phantom from his buried past.

He didn’t need to know its origins to realize how special Father was.

Revulsion and exhilaration surged up from his center as he pressed the precious memento mori over his face like a mask. His roiling emotions alchemized into something he had yet to name, its crystallized shape strange but stable. At last, the feel of cold, waxen flesh molded to his cheeks, of stiff, dead fingers in his hair, chased away the fantasy of hot, living ones. At last, he could think.

With a relieved sigh, Tomura replaced the box’s lid and stood. After feeling trapped, he needed the reassurance of space. He went to his room’s narrow window, pushed aside the curtains, disarmed the little tripwire surprise he’d rigged, and pushed the bottom pane up so he could slither out onto the fire escape.

The night air reeked of the refuse piled in the alley below. This definitely wasn’t high on his list of favored spots, but it was better than nothing. At least the temperature was being kind to his skin, not too warm or humid, not to cool or dry. The rusty skeleton of the fire escape squeaked as he settled himself on the mesh bottom, hugging his knees. Staring up at the void of the sky, a few stars visible through Father’s embalmed fingers, wasn’t so bad either. Everything he could see was warped, discarded, halfway down the path to total ruin. It almost made him feel at home.

A home with dynamics that had changed overnight. But…like it or not he had two new roommates—with more to come, according to Giran. Tomura didn’t have the kind of power to reduce hero society to rubble and ash on his own. Not yet. In the meantime, he had to make do with the next best thing: strength in numbers. It was just…he got so anxious. The concept of living with anyone aside from Kurogiri was bizarre, the thought of having to interact daily with strangers unsettling.

Yet even someone as powerful, as feared and dreaded as Sensei didn’t work alone. If his mentor hadn’t turned his nose up to cooperating with select people, who was Tomura to? He grimaced behind Father, but he could already feel resolve seeping between the seams in his thoughts. One way or another, he’d learn to tolerate his houseguests and how best to use their skills for the greater goal.

Maybe it was his years martial arts training that picked up on some subtle shift in the air. Déjà vu prickled along the back of Tomura’s neck. His head snapped toward the perceived threat on his right.

He caught a flash of a blonde-haired head just before it ducked back inside the next window over.

I’m Toga! Toga Himiko! It’s hard to live!

“Wait,” came from Tomura’s mouth before his conscious mind registered the action. “I’m sorry. About how I acted earlier.” The surprise of those words, in that order, coming from him fell flat compared to the shock of realizing he wasn’t lying.

#shigaraki & toga #shigaraki fic #shigaraki tomura fic #shigaraki fanfic #shigaraki fanfiction #toga himiko #toga & shigaraki #toga is a good friend #shigadabi #shigaraki/dabi #dabi/shigaraki #dabi x shigaraki #shigaraki x dabi #league of villains #bnha shigaraki #mha shigaraki #bnha toga #bnha toga himiko #mha toga #mha toga himiko #league of villains fanfic #league of villains fic #bnha league of villains #mha league of villains

[lucarioisinthevoid]

I’ve always imagineer that it is one of Mike’s biggest fears to not have The Gang (TM) not be real and it all was one big hallucination. 🥺🥺🥺🥺 poor boi

Hah, you don’t even know how many universes I have about this. It certainly terrifies him beyond everything, but he’s desperate to believe, because not only would him waking up mean that his delusions have reached a whole different level, but also that he’s absolutely incapable of connecting with real people. It’s scary to like people. It’s scary if people like him. There’s the constant threat that it will all be taken from him. Even worse if it might happen by his own hands. That he breaks something so important, so valuable, that not even his co-workers can forgive him. Sometimes he just feels like an untrustworthy animal. A feral monster. Though in an odd way he felt more connected to the animatronics- perhaps there was a place for monsters, where they weren’t- … well, where they at least weren’t unwanted. But yes, he never will be free of the worry. Of the fear. Because how do you prove what you see is real? How do you test if all your perceptions can be faked? Do you know if you’re a brain in a jar? Are you here right now? With me? Can you hear me?

When Mike woke up, he sucked in his breath panicked. Where was he?! What happened?! His mind was a fuzzy mess of static-y noises and missing memories. Quickly he shook his head, then looked from the left to the right, trying to figure out what exactly was going on- Doors, the screens, the cupcake, the fan- Oh. The fan was off. Quietly he flicked it on and felt a little bit better instantly as the cold air hit his face. Right. The nightshift. Everything was fine. NO WAIT IT WASN’T- Checking the doors, the awful grinning Chica stood in front of it, pressing herself against the glass. Waiting. Without even having to think, he pushed the button, causing the door to slam. Good god, how lucky he was that he hasn’t been gone too long- He couldn’t imagine what would have happened if the animatronics would have caught him sleeping- Did he ever fall asleep on the job before? … something was wrong. The temptation was there to go out and check on this feeling- But no, he wouldn’t let himself being baited into getting murdered. Hah, that would be FUNNY. No way. His brain was working as good as it always did, he was above this. He KNEW truth from his feverdreams. Finally, six AM. He was out. Or rather, he could relax while the animatronics retreated onto their respective stages. Mike stayed in the main area, playing around with the hats, waiting for the doors to open and his co-workers to enter. But they never came. He waited an hour, he waited the day, as the sun slowly sank down he got more and more worried. He attempted to call them- but nothing. Then finally he decided to go out- But where should he even seek? Did he KNOW where they lived? Seemingly not as he constantly ended up at the false places- he must remember something wrong- something was WRONG! But what was the guard to do? When the night approached, he returned back into the office, for another shift. There was no way he could just abandon the machines, they would hurt themselves- or others, then getting torn apart. Simon would come back right? Simon was his friend. He would return. He would come to look for him, right? If he couldn’t look for them, they would eventually return- Jeremy- Dave- Old Sport- ONE of them had to return eventually, right? Someone would come to tell him what happened! Time passed by. Mike wasn’t even sure how fast- every day pretty much the same. By now he had befriended the machines a little bit more, at least for during the day. The restaurant was breaking down, but thankfully the generator needed little to charge it up, the cameras and lights were all still fine. Hell, even the music did work still out. He felt a bit bad for the animatronics, as they slowly became more and more broken down- they still seemed to be in high spirits though. And still hunting him down heartlessly at night. Mike had stopped questioning that part. They knew he was their friend, at least during the day… he assumed there was some trauma related terror coming with the darkness, causing them to act out viciously. Fine. He could handle it. He was like them after all. Trying his best he attempted to maintain what could and keep the place at least SOMEWHAT clean, though he slowly lost the fight against the creeping plants and mold. But that was fine. Nobody ever came, even if he was sure that the doors were open. What could have caused the sudden shut-down? And were the other taken along? Maybe they had been sent to another location? But then- why not him? His thoughts were constant circles that were slowly driving him insane. He hoped for SOMEONE. SOMETHING. Hell, he was looking for secret doors, hoping for ANY HINT- Until one night, finally someone came. Mike was flicking through the cameras, rather bored as he heard something and quickly flicked until he found the one where there was unusual movement. The doors had opened and a group of teenagers had answered. He could hear their laughter and words, but those turned into distorted echoes, as they were send through the empty hallways. Glancing at the clock he realized it was shortly before midnight. Fucking hell- what for fucking IDIOTS! Rashly he grabbed his flashlight and made his way down the hallway. The poster changed as he passed them. Fuck, fuck, fuck, they were awake- When he arrived in the main place, where the teens had set up some alcohol and party lights, one even having put on a hat, he called out loudly- and admittedly, maybe a bit too harshly. “HEY! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING HERE!?” The kids jumped, one falling straight from the chair. Frozen they stared at him and he frustratedly stared back. Seriously, what where they DOING here?! Suddenly, next to him was a noise of something dropping on the ground loudly. Snapping around he saw a girl standing there, a few broken cups to her feet. Suddenly one of them screamed out. “RUN!” And she didn’t hesitate anymore. “DON’T FUCKING DO IT- goddammit.” Mortified he looked at the stage- The head had turned. With a last glare at the teens he proceeded to follow her up. “IF YOU GO THERE YOU WON’T GET FUCKING OUT, YOU’RE AWARE OF THAT RIGHT? THOSE ARE A FUCKING DEAD END. EMPHASIS ON DEAD.” As fast as he could he rushed after her, but he was distracted as he heard multiple voices scream in the backroom, then scattering. “Goddamn kids- why aren’t they running OUT!?” The next generation seemed to seriously lack self-preservation instincts. Torn he stood on the spot, swaying- Then he rushed back. The animatronics were there- the danger was THERE. Rushing as fast as he could without crashing into any walls while taking corners, just to spot one of the teens being chased down by the laughing Chica. He wanted to go along, distract the animatronic, but quickly saw a silhouette in the darkness ahead- “HEY!” It ran off, moving into the office, making Mike realize what was going on. “YOU BETTER NOT CLOSE THAT DOOR, YOUNG MAN-“ The door was closed and locked and Mike could only stare in through the window, at the mortified person cowering inside, looking back at him. “OPEN THE DOOR! YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING-“ The other side was still open and to Mike’s horror, a golden eye lit up behind the guy. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK- Desperately he pounded against the reinforced glass. “GET OUT! TURN AROUND! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!?” The brown-haired teen kept his eyes locked on him, causing Mike to make a distressed noise and try to run the other way around- Not three steps and he heard an animatronic scream. Too late. There were other screams throughout the place, there was no time to dwell. Again Mike made his way around, attempting desperately to spot any humans- This was terrible, terrible, fucking awful! How would he tell the police about this?! How would the animatronics deal with hurting people who were almost children themselves!? WHY WASN’T HE DOING HIS JOB!? Hurry, hurry, hurry up. Make you can save SOMETHING. For ONCE. Hearing something he pressed himself against the wall, letting an animatronic pass that seemingly didn’t notice him. Out of breath he moved past the bathrooms and- Sobbing. Instantly he moved inside, hearing a muffled cry. The last of the teenagers cowered against the wall, the green eyes wide and terrified. “STAY- STAY AWAY FROM ME!” “Calm the fuck down!” Mike tried to reassure him. “I… I’ll get you out of here. But you NEED to calm down. You HAVE to-“ The boy threw something that Mike promptly deflected. “You’re a little bitch, you fucking know that? Maybe I SHOULD let you brats handle yourself” He turned to check on what it was that had fallen- His eyes met the ones in the mirror. Silver. Shining silver. An endoskeleton, with tiny white dots in their big black eyes stared back. A torch in its hand. A hat on his head. A little glowing badge on his chest. “What… what the fuck…” He stumbled back and the endo almost crashed into one of the stalls behind him- he could feel the door open against his back. Terrified his eyes wandered back to the kid. “That’s- that’s not real. That’s not me. THAT’S NOT ME-“ IT’S ME IT’S ME IT’S ME IT’S ME Before he could do anything more, the teen bolted past him and he lost his focus more and more. S Y S T E M R E B O O T Mike woke up at his desk, tired, with a headache. Fuck… what happened?! Something happened. Did he fall asleep?! Dizzy he stood up, looking outside of the black doors. There was noise of slow animatronic movement. Something was… off. Slowly he stepped outside, looking around. Chica was with the back to him, carrying something. A liquid of indistinguishable color dripped from whatever she was carrying- “… Chica?” She turned, then smiled, turning further to reveal her pizza. “Mike! So you finally came out! Took you long enough! Lazy butt!” Happily she laughed. “… you’re in a good mood… what is that…?” His head was HURTING. “Pizza, obviously.” “How did you make that?” For a second it was silent, then she tilted her head. “The ingredients you brought in…?” “Ah.” Suddenly he remembered. He went out today, buying groceries for this. Because Chica was whining so much. God, how could he have forgotten that? Friendly she signed him to come along. “Come!” “Can’t. Someone needs to clean up the damn sauce. You got it all over the fucking place.” She smiled sheepishly. “Sorry Mike… come, I’ll clean it up later, I promise.” “WILL you?” “Yessir!” She smiled. “Well…” “Eat with us, Mike.” The guard sighed and followed the machine into the darkness.

#mike schmidt #au

[punkcupcakestyles]

Bad Ideas

In which summer’s here and maybe living with Harry was a bad idea to begin with.

***

The hardest part was looking at him.

I’m not talking about his face, which was a dream to look at. Or his body, and the times he stayed in his towel for a little too long, beads of water rolling down the soft muscles of his tummy.

I’m talking about him, and the fact that I felt like someone had punched me in the gut, just for the sake of it.

It was torture.

The first time I dreamt about Harry, it was a summer night, and the heat was aiming to kill us all.

We had spent most of our afternoon in the living room, the only place in our apartment where the air was breathable and we didn’t feel like we were burning up. Smith was playing with his guitar, while his girlfriend slept with her head resting on his lap.

Harry was lying awkwardly on the couch in front of me. His feet were dangling in the air while he tried to read his book. He kept closing his eyes and dozing off, maybe because of the slow song Smith was playing, or because it was really hot and he had barely slept the night before. The book slowly fell out of his hands and to the floor, with a thud no one else but I seemed to register.

I looked at him and noticed the way his pink lips parted and his hand fell on his tummy, raising up and then falling down with every soft breath. The pink light of the sky was cast on his face, making him look angelic, and his hair, the short curls that were starting to grow, was trying to cascade over his forehead and failing to do so. He looked adorable, and I knew right then I was in a whole lot of trouble.

We’ve all been there. We’ve all felt warmth at the sight on that one person. Felt our heart gets larger and a little bit vulnerable. We’ve felt ourselves falling to our knees.

Later that night, the heat hadn’t gone anywhere. It was suffocating, and I was sweating under the thin sheets, even when all of my windows were wide open. I was wearing a pair of shorts and a sports top, and my right leg dangling in the air to try to get some air. Despite my very serious concern of monsters under the bed, it was the only way I could find to breathe.

It was already 1:30 in the morning when I decided to get up and walk to the kitchen to get some water. Harry was there, already standing behind the tiny breakfast table. He had just taken a shower, I could tell by his wet hair and the fact that his chest was glistening even under the dim light of the room. As I walked closer, I noticed he was wearing a pair of black boxers...and nothing else. I looked at him, his round shoulders, his taut chest and his delightful collarbones, and I got a bit weak on the knees.

He smiled at me as if it was the most natural thing to see each other in our underwear in the middle of the night.

“Thought you were sleeping,” he said, as I walked around him to pour myself that glass of water. He left his own on the table and turned to look at me as I did my best to act natural. Try not to look at his legs, and their nice muscular tone, or the light happy trail that got lost under the fabric of his underwear.

“I couldn’t, it’s too hot,” I said and somehow I managed not to squeak out my words.

He was so close, I could smell the clean strawberry of the soap, and the fake vanilla of his shampoo. He was so close, in fact, that I didn’t think I could blame the hot night for the flush of my cheeks.

I could see myself kissing him. I could imagine standing on my tiptoes and putting my hands over his neck to bring him close. All I could think was the cold feeling of his lips against mine, and the way they would mold in a kiss that was not meant to be. Soft and slow, rough and desperate, I could imagine all of the kisses we were never going to share.

“I thought you were gonna go out tonight,” I remarked, an effort to sound casual and cool. Harry went out every single Saturday night. And other nights too.

“I wasn’t feeling it,” he replied simply.

I nodded and sipped on my water. Actually, not sip, that sounds like a delicate thing to do. I gulped it in one swing, half thirsty for the cold drink, half desperate to get out of there.

Harry was looking at me, a half smirk curling up his lips when he saw the water spilling down my lips. The drops of water ran down my chin, and my neck and to my pink top, and I felt myself burn in embarrassment as I let the glass over the table and quickly tried to dry myself with just my hands.

I was waiting for the snippy comment, like the ones he would carelessly and quickly throw whenever Smith or I did something wrong or dumb, which was often. But it never came. Instead, he let his fingers brush over the center of my lips, and wipe a drop of water I had missed.  It was quick, so quick in fact, for a second I doubted if it even had happened. I looked at him, standing still at his touch, while he cleared his throat and looked the other way.

“I put a bottle of water in the fridge. Take it,” was all he said, his low mumble twisting his words before he left.

What had just happened?

I dreamt of him that night, of the tingling feeling of his touch and of bruised lips from kissing. I dreamt of his big hands, wrapped around my legs to keep them open, while his tongue lapped at my center, and he sucked and kissed as he pleased. He would look up every time my back arched, a smug glint of his eyes when I moaned his name. I dreamt of him and nothing else, and I woke up drenched in sweat.

The second time I dreamt of Harry, he was in the shower, and I was pretty sure he wasn’t alone. I could hear him moan, and it didn’t take much imagination to figure out what was happening.

I had just arrived from work, after having a few drinks with friends, and I was fucking tipsy. Drunkenly, I leaned to the door and listened to him for a few seconds, the deep grunts and the low curses that were coming from him. Our paper-thin walls were a fucking blessing.

I could see myself on my knees, looking up at him with a shy smile, as the water ran down his body. My fingers wrapping around his cock, as I guided it to my mouth, his deep moan when I started to lick the swollen tip. I could imagine his fingers tangling in my wet hair, and the way they would bring me further down, almost begging for me to take all of him.

It was fucking difficult to walk away from the door and to waddle to my own room and close the door. I was still thinking about his strong legs and the way I would hold on to them when my legs wobbled, just so I could keep sucking him. Lying on the bed, I let my hand slide under my shorts and my middle finger glide over my slit until I found that sweet spot. I thought of him, of his lips and his hands while I kept massaging my clit. Every quiver of my tummy was because of him, the trembling of my legs as they tried to clamp shut around my hand was a reaction to his imaginary touch, the thought of his mop of curls between my legs enough to make me moan.

The next morning, I could barely look at him. His smile, his hands, his lips, they were all reminders of the most unholy thoughts I had probably ever had. A reminder of the hunger and need I had never felt before him.

“I think this it,” Smith said as he sat on the bar stool in front of me, while I was finishing our sandwiches. He put his computer on the counter, carefully trying not to let it drop. Any other damage to it, and he would have a buy a new one.

“I’ve heard that,” Harry mused. He was tidying up the kitchen as I went, making sure I didn’t leave a mess or had anything to clean after “cooking” for them.

“No, mate, this is serious. If that guy likes us, we fucking made it.”

Two wannabe musicians, and a struggling writer/intern. How did we pay for rent?

“Yeah, Smithy, whatever you say,” I smiled at the blonde boy. “Now go, let’s not lose the jobs we already have.”

“Oh, you don’t believe in us. You’ll fly coach when we go on tour,” Smith bit back, his childish smile making him look even younger as he pointed an accusatory finger at me. He took the Ziploc bag I offered him and rushed to the bathroom to get ready for work. I didn’t give a fuck, wherever they were going, they could bet their asses they were taking me.

Harry leaned over the counter, giving me a small smile as I offered him a Ziploc bag as well. His fingers lingered over mine, and I looked at him, not quite remembering how to breathe.

Fucking hell, it would be so easy to kiss him.

“Wut?” I asked slowly. Harry licked his lips as if he was unsure of what came next. Whatever it was, he knew just enough to keep me close.

Harry took a step closer until he didn’t even to hold my hand to catch my attention anymore. But he still did, wrapping his fingers tightly around my wrist, as if he feared I would run away if he let me go.

“Were you...were you home last night?”

Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

Had he caught me? Had he noticed I had listened to him like a fucking creep? Had whoever was with him realized he was living with a fucking stalker?

“Y-yes.”

“Look, I…” He began but stopped as Smith stormed out of the bathroom, hands still trying to button his red plaid shirt.

“Ok, Styles, could you get the tequila for tonight’s party? I don’t think I…” Smith babbled, struggling to keep up with everything he was doing. His phone slipped to the floor, and he rushed to get it before finally looking at us. Pink splashed on his face as his eyes bounced from Harry to me, and then widened as he realized Harry was actually holding me. “Or I could try to get it,” he said. “Yeah...I-I’ll do that.”

My heart was racing fast, but it was nothing compared to Smith’s. He rushed, actually stumbled, out, without looking back. We had scared him, and we were just holding hands.

I wished it was the end of it, the awkward moment to end all awkward moments, but apparently, there was still more to come. Harry cleared his throat and squeezed my fingers lightly between his, to make me look at him. I did so, his green eyes looking curiously at me.

“Harry, s’normal,” I cut him off before he could even start. “You get to bring girls home.”

“I wasn’t…” Harry looked confused for once. But I still had more to say. I could fill a whole room with words if that meant we could end the conversation right after.

“Smith did before his girlfriend. You’re young and cute, and girls like that. So don’t worry”

“M’not worried,” He drawled. His accent got thicker whenever he was annoyed. “And I was alone.”

“Oh…”

“Were you?” The question was really simple. I wished I had a fucking answer for it. “Cause I heard you, and I, I think you were alone.” A small smile grew on his lips, the tip of his tongue licking on them as he looked at me. “And I think I heard my name. You’re quite loud.”

The hardest part was looking at him.

I’m not talking about his face, which was a dream to look at. Or his body, and the times he stayed in his towel for a little too long, beads of water rolling down the soft muscles of his tummy.

I’m talking about him, and the fact that I felt like someone had punched me in the gut, just for the sake of it.

It was torture.

The first time I dreamt about Harry, it was a summer night, and the heat was aiming to kill us all.

We had spent most of our afternoon in the living room, the only place in our apartment where the air was breathable and we didn’t feel like we were burning up. Smith was playing with his guitar, while his girlfriend slept with her head resting on his lap.

Harry was lying awkwardly on the couch in front of me. His feet were dangling in the air while he tried to read his book. He kept closing his eyes and dozing off, maybe because of the slow song Smith was playing, or because it was really hot and he had barely slept the night before. The book slowly fell out of his hands and to the floor, with a thud no one else but I seemed to register.

I looked at him and noticed the way his pink lips parted and his hand fell on his tummy, raising up and then falling down with every soft breath. The pink light of the sky was cast on his face, making him look angelic, and his hair, the short curls that were starting to grow, was trying to cascade over his forehead and failing to do so. He looked adorable, and I knew right then I was in a whole lot of trouble.

We’ve all been there. We’ve all felt warmth at the sight on that one person. Felt our heart gets larger and a little bit vulnerable. We’ve felt ourselves falling to our knees.

Later that night, the heat hadn’t gone anywhere. It was suffocating, and I was sweating under the thin sheets, even when all of my windows were wide open. I was wearing a pair of shorts and a sports top, and my right leg dangling in the air to try to get some air. Despite my very serious concern of monsters under the bed, it was the only way I could find to breathe.

It was already 1:30 in the morning when I decided to get up and walk to the kitchen to get some water. Harry was there, already standing behind the tiny breakfast table. He had just taken a shower, I could tell by his wet hair and the fact that his chest was glistening even under the dim light of the room. As I walked closer, I noticed he was wearing a pair of black boxers...and nothing else. I looked at him, his round shoulders, his taut chest and his delightful collarbones, and I got a bit weak on the knees.

He smiled at me as if it was the most natural thing to see each other in our underwear in the middle of the night.

“Thought you were sleeping,” he said, as I walked around him to pour myself that glass of water. He left his own on the table and turned to look at me as I did my best to act natural. Try not to look at his legs, and their nice muscular tone, or the light happy trail that got lost under the fabric of his underwear.

“I couldn’t, it’s too hot,” I said and somehow I managed not to squeak out my words.

He was so close, I could smell the clean strawberry of the soap, and the fake vanilla of his shampoo. He was so close, in fact, that I didn’t think I could blame the hot night for the flush of my cheeks.

I could see myself kissing him. I could imagine standing on my tiptoes and putting my hands over his neck to bring him close. All I could think was the cold feeling of his lips against mine, and the way they would mold in a kiss that was not meant to be. Soft and slow, rough and desperate, I could imagine all of the kisses we were never going to share.

“I thought you were gonna go out tonight,” I remarked, an effort to sound casual and cool. Harry went out every single Saturday night. And other nights too.

“I wasn’t feeling it,” he replied simply.

I nodded and sipped on my water. Actually, not sip, that sounds like a delicate thing to do. I gulped it in one swing, half thirsty for the cold drink, half desperate to get out of there.

Harry was looking at me, a half smirk curling up his lips when he saw the water spilling down my lips. The drops of water ran down my chin, and my neck and to my pink top, and I felt myself burn in embarrassment as I let the glass over the table and quickly tried to dry myself with just my hands.

I was waiting for the snippy comment, like the ones he would carelessly and quickly throw whenever Smith or I did something wrong or dumb, which was often. But it never came. Instead, he let his fingers brush over the center of my lips, and wipe a drop of water I had missed.  It was quick, so quick in fact, for a second I doubted if it even had happened. I looked at him, standing still at his touch, while he cleared his throat and looked the other way.

“I put a bottle of water in the fridge. Take it,” was all he said, his low mumble twisting his words before he left.

What had just happened?

I dreamt of him that night, of the tingling feeling of his touch and of bruised lips from kissing. I dreamt of his big hands, wrapped around my legs to keep them open, while his tongue lapped at my center, and he sucked and kissed as he pleased. He would look up every time my back arched, a smug glint of his eyes when I moaned his name. I dreamt of him and nothing else, and I woke up drenched in sweat.

The second time I dreamt of Harry, he was in the shower, and I was pretty sure he wasn’t alone. I could hear him moan, and it didn’t take much imagination to figure out what was happening.

I had just arrived from work, after having a few drinks with friends, and I was fucking tipsy. Drunkenly, I leaned to the door and listened to him for a few seconds, the deep grunts and the low curses that were coming from him. Our paper-thin walls were a fucking blessing. I could see myself on my knees, looking up at him with a shy smile, as the water ran down his body. My fingers wrapping around his cock, as I guided it to my mouth, his deep moan when I started to lick the swollen tip. I could imagine his fingers tangling in my wet hair, and the way they would bring me further down, almost begging for me to take all of him.

It was fucking difficult to walk away from the door and to waddle to my own room and close the door. I was still thinking about his strong legs and the way I would hold on to them when my legs wobbled, just so I could keep sucking him. Lying on the bed, I let my hand slide under my shorts and my middle finger glide over my slit until I found that sweet spot. I thought of him, of his lips and his hands while I kept massaging my clit. Every quiver of my tummy was because of him, the trembling of my legs as they tried to clamp shut around my hand was a reaction to his imaginary touch, the thought of his mop of curls between my legs enough to make me moan.

The next morning, I could barely look at him. His smile, his hands, his lips, they were all reminders of the most unholy thoughts I had probably ever had. A reminder of the hunger and need I had never felt before him.

“I think this it,” Smith said as he sat on the bar stool in front of me, while I was finishing our sandwiches. He put his computer on the counter, carefully trying not to let it drop. Any other damage to it, and he would have a buy a new one.

“I’ve heard that,” Harry mused. He was tidying up the kitchen as I went, making sure I didn’t leave a mess or had anything to clean after “cooking” for them.

“No, mate, this is serious. If that guy likes us, we fucking made it.”

Two wannabe musicians, and a struggling writer/intern. How did we pay for rent?

“Yeah, Smithy, whatever you say,” I smiled at the blonde boy. “Now go, let’s not lose the jobs we already have.”

“Oh, you don’t believe in us. You’ll fly coach when we go on tour,” Smith bit back, his childish smile making him look even younger as he pointed an accusatory finger at me. He took the Ziploc bag I offered him and rushed to the bathroom to get ready for work. I didn’t give a fuck, wherever they were going, they could bet their asses they were taking me.

Harry leaned over the counter, giving me a small smile as I offered him a Ziploc bag as well. His fingers lingered over mine, and I looked at him, not quite remembering how to breathe.

Fucking hell, it would be so easy to kiss him.

“Wut?” I asked slowly. Harry licked his lips as if he was unsure of what came next. Whatever it was, he knew just enough to keep me close.

Harry took a step closer until he didn’t even to hold my hand to catch my attention anymore. But he still did, wrapping his fingers tightly around my wrist, as if he feared I would run away if he let me go.

“Were you...were you home last night?”

Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

Had he caught me? Had he noticed I had listened to him like a fucking creep? Had whoever was with him realized he was living with a fucking stalker?

“Y-yes.”

“Look, I…” He began but stopped as Smith stormed out of the bathroom, hands still trying to button his red plaid shirt.

“Ok, Styles, could you get the tequila for tonight’s party? I don’t think I…” Smith babbled, struggling to keep up with everything he was doing. His phone slipped to the floor, and he rushed to get it before finally looking at us. Pink splashed on his face as his eyes bounced from Harry to me, and then widened as he realized Harry was actually holding me. “Or I could try to get it,” he said. “Yeah...I-I’ll do that.”

My heart was racing fast, but it was nothing compared to Smith’s. He rushed, actually stumbled, out, without looking back. We had scared him, and we were just holding hands.

I wished it was the end of it, the awkward moment to end all awkward moments, but apparently, there was still more to come. Harry cleared his throat and squeezed my fingers lightly between his, to make me look at him. I did so, his green eyes looking curiously at me.

“Harry, s’normal,” I cut him off before he could even start. “You get to bring girls home.”

“I wasn’t…” Harry looked confused for once. But I still had more to say. I could fill a whole room with words if that meant we could end the conversation right after.

“Smith did before his girlfriend. You’re young and cute, and girls like that. So don’t worry”

“M’not worried,” He drawled. His accent got thicker whenever he was annoyed. “And I was alone.”

“Oh…”

“Were you?” The question was really simple. I wished I had a fucking answer for it. “Cause I heard you, and I...I think you were alone.” A small smile grew on his lips, the tip of his tongue licking on them as he looked at me. “And I think I heard my name. You’re quite loud.”

I was right before: my heart could go faster. Incredibly fast. Ridiculously fast. I was gonna throw up.

Slowly, I let my hand fall from Harry’s and I took the sandwich that was left for me, smiling shyly as I looked away from him. If he was baffled by my attitude or if he was expecting it, I couldn’t know. He let his back rest against the counter and he crossed his arms over his chest as he waited for my next move.

“I’m late for work,” I finally said. “We’ll talk later.”

Or better yet, we wouldn’t.

If there was something to be said about Smith is that he was a fucking genius when it came to throwing a party. He had gotten big, round fans that were scattered all over the apartment, so it wouldn’t be so hot, and he had cold slices of watermelon soaked in margarita. I was having one of those, sitting on the couch right next to a fan. It was heaven.

I scanned around the room, not even trying to keep up with the conversation that was happening around me. But I couldn’t find him, no matter how much I looked. Harry was not there, and I was incredibly disappointed by it.

The feeling in my gut told me it was a bad idea, dumb idea, stupid idea. I probably should have listened to it. Instead, I crossed the living room to walk to Harry’s. For a second, I stared at the door and bit my lip in guilt. It wasn’t a nice thing to do, to walk into someone’s room just because you wanted to. But I still did it, pushing the door softly and closing it behind me.

At first, it didn’t seem like Harry had noticed my presence. He had his headphones on and was absorbed in his book. I almost turned around to leave.

“Hey,” he said, right when I was contemplating my escape routes. His voice was soft and sleepy, and he looked at me as he dropped his book over the nightstand next to his bed. His room was quite simple: One bed, one nightstand, two guitars. It was my first time in it.

“H-hi…I, uh, wanted to check if you were alright.”

“Yeah, just...didn't feel like dealing with people tonight,” Harry smiled.

“Oh, then I’ll leave you alone.”

“No, not you,” he mused, and I stood where I was, still looking at him. “You can stay. Please, stay.”

“I don’t wanna bother…”

“Come here…” He ignored my words. They were barely audible anyway.

I hesitated, trying to find an excuse as to why I actually needed to leave. None of them seemed to work. I twisted my fingers on the fabric of my short skirt and took slow steps in his direction until I was able to sit right next to him on his bed. We were face to face, and I sat over the covers while Harry stayed under them. He was wearing a white cotton shirt and his hair was messy. David Bowie blasted through his headphones. Harry had stolen one of Smith’s fan, and the air was almost too comfortable in his room. 

My lips parted slightly, maybe following his own, and he looked at me right in the eyes, making me shiver as his fingers brushed over my bare arm.

“Tell me…” His voice was barely over a whisper, and a satisfied smirk popped on his lips when he noticed the goosebumps on my skin.

“I can talk about pretty much anything, Harry…” I cocked my head as I offered him a mocking smile of my own. “You’ll have to be more precise.”

“Were you thinking about me yesterday?” He said, and his throat bobbed.

“That’s a bit invasive, don’t you think? I haven’t asked who you were thinking about.”

“I was thinking about you if that’s what you wanted to know,” he said, simply. “Sometimes I change it, but I usually come back to you.”

“That sounds almost romantic,” I mocked.

“Doesn’t it?”

I would like to say he kissed me first, but he didn’t. He let his eyes flutter down to my lips and took a sharp breath, as if he was considering it. But it wasn’t enough, I wanted to be kissed, wanted to get to know the taste of his lips. Damn it. Not allowing myself to think, I tilted my head and let the tip of my fingers press to his neck, his heartbeat pulsing under them. The tip of my nose brushed his and he let a breathy laugh out right before I pressed a kiss to his lips.

It wasn’t rushed like I imagined it would be. His hands pressed to my sides to hold me close, while he trapped my bottom lip between his, and the tip of his tongue licked across it. A heavy sigh died on the kiss, and I wasn’t entirely sure if it was his or mine. All I knew was that he was a slow kisser, taking his time to enjoy the taste out of my lips, as his fingers curled around my waist.

“Is that yes?” He muttered against my lips, while still pressing soft kisses on them. Every word felt warm and fuzzy and I was losing my mind just a bit.

“This is a fucking stupid idea,” I laughed in response, opening my eyes to see he was already looking back at me. Still, we didn’t move, allowing our breaths to mix and our lips to brush, as we enjoyed the idea of keep on going.

“I know, I was thinking we could be stupid, just for a little while.”

“I should go.” Someone had to be smart. It was a shame it was me.

“Don’t.”

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry smut #hs #writing

[sagessoftwings]

It’s the Truth

Request: Remus lupin x female reader (last year at Hogwarts) - they like each other but won't admit it. Sirius kisses the girl in front of Remus to make him jealous. It works.. Remus then avoids the girl and they have a massive argument but eventually make up with a kiss (and if comfortable writing then progresses into sex - with dom Remus)

Warnings: smut! Jealous Remus and maybe 1 cuss word?

A/n: Love the request, I had fun writing this! Hope you enjoy! Request are still open! 🥰

It was a foggy day at Hogwarts, you had no doubt it was going to rain. It was your last year at Hogwarts and classes just seemed to get more difficult and boring. So there you sat and potions with your head resting on your palm and staring out the window doodling on your parchment paper. You let out a sigh when you heard giggling in the back, and you turned around to see a flustered Remus and James and Sirius making kissy faces.

You hate to admit it but you had a terrible crush on the werewolf, anyone could admit he is good looking. You cracked a smile and raised your eyebrow playfully and Sirius opened his mouth to say something but Remus shut him up quickly my slapping a mouth over His mouth. “Shut up you bludger!” He whispered and James and Sirius let our laughs.

Once class was over you collected your books and walked with Lily to the common room. Not even three minutes later Sirius, Peter, James, and Remus walked in James speeding over to place himself next to Lily. Peter and Sirius sat across from you and Remus on the arm cushion next to you.

Your eyes quickly looked down to your book a bright blush creeping across your face, Remus didn’t see, but a particular Black did. Sirius nudged Peter and the two boys looked at the helpless romantics.

After talking for a whole 3 hours, everyone parted for bed. You were last trying to grab all your books. You saw two feet stand in front of you and you looked up the scarred boys smiled “can I help you carry your stuff?” He asked and you nodded softly handing him some “thank you Rem” you spoke softly hoping not to wake anyone. Remus nodded and you turned to look at him “so who’s the lucky girl?” You asked and he raised a brow “what?” He asked.

You smiled “don’t act dumb, the girl prongs and padfoot were joking about with you!” You smiled nudging him but your smile dropped quickly realizing you weren’t that girl, Remus shook his head “oh it’s nobody um you-, you wouldn’t know her-” he said and you nodded quickly grabbing you books from his hands “thanks” you said and quickly shut the door to your dorm. He could’ve sworn he heard you start to cry, but you did. You cried all night and ranted to Lily and you ended up sleeping in her bed.

Remus walked off to his dorm and slowly walked in. Sirius greeted him but Remus didn’t answer. James sat up “Oi what’s wrong moony, cat got your tongue or should I say y/n?” He asked and Peter moved to the edge of his bed “yeah what’s wrong moony, not falling for her are ya? You know that one kid Connor asked her to Hogsmeade” he said earning a hit over the head “shut up!” Yelled Prongs.

Remus shook his head “no way! Me and y/n are just friends, it’s not like a lay awake at night thinking about her!” He said stomping off to the bathroom. James looked at Sirius “either it’s close to a full moon or he is in love”. Sirius hopped off his trunk “ considering the full moon was last week, I think I’ll choose the second answer” he spoke

The next morning you got ready with Lily doing your hair and make up, she walked down the stairs with you and to the grand hall where you two took a seat with the marauders. Lily sat with James planting a kiss on his cheek, you sat next to Sirius who was known as your secret buddy, you two would stay up to ungodly hours talking about secrets. Sirius looked at you and then again “are you okay love?” He asked quietly and when you looked at him with tears about to fall he engulfed you in a hug. “Is it cashmere?” He asked and you nodded. You two came up with code words for the students at Hogwarts so nobody would know what you were talking about.

You leaned forward and whispered to Sirius everything that happened. He felt terrible, he wanted to tell you the way Remus acted but he had to be sure, he didn’t want to hurt you. But little did you know, sat across the table was a jealous Moony who was gripping his fork a little to hard bending it and Peter looked at him “uh Remus?” He asked and Sirius looked at him and smirked as a screech was head from Remus’ bench when he so abruptly left.

You all left to your first class and it was there Sirius told you his plan, it would occur after the game this afternoon that he swore they would win. You were a little cautious of it at first but he promised it would work so you agreed. Classes zoomed by and you were very nervous after James caught the golden snitch. You walked out onto the field and the walked towards you James, Sirius and Remus all in their gear, “and I owe it all to my good luck charm!” He said. Oh dear, here goes nothing. Sirius swooped in for a kiss, it was soft and you could tell it was fake because her didn’t even move his lips.

You two broke apart and Remus looked pissed to all seven hells. You looked up and Remus looked you dead in the eyes and walked the other direction. You looked at Sirius and shoved him and Sirius blushed in embarrassment “that’s not how I expected him to react” he said scratching his neck. You chased after Remus and the rest of the group behind you hot on your tail. They stood at the door to the common room when you walked in and you went to touch Remus’ shoulder before he grabbed your wrist “just go-” he mumbled. You could hear the pain in his voice and you yanked away running off to your room.

The next days were a living hell, you felt to awkward to sit with them do you sat with that freak Connor who only wanted to get in your pants. Every five seconds you had to slap his hand away from you thigh, it got to the point where you stood up quickly slapping him and stomping off to the end of the table where nobody sat. Remus had been ignoring you all week and you got so sick and tired of it you had an break down in the bathroom and ended up punching the mirror and had to go get your hand wrapped. Sirius came to find you due to his mothering nature as your friend.

Once getting to your last class, you had to say you fell down the stairs to which some people thought was hilarious, but Remus just looked at you with fiery eyes. You took a seat and didn’t pay attention at all, after class you headed to the common room to find the group talking and you looked at them with tears in you eyes and you saw Lily stand up to greet you but you ran off to your room.

You walked down later to try and sneak into the kitchens but you stopped dead in your tracks when you say Remus sitting there. “What do you want? To rub yours and Sirius’ relationship in my face some more?!” He asked and his looked up at him “Remus I-”.

What! You- you forget to tell your shagging my best friend! That’s probably where you were doing in last period huh? Snogging in some broom cubord!” He yelled and you just stared in disbelief “no!” You yelled back and he went to say something but stopped. “Me and Sirius only kissed to make you jealous, he thought it would work but it only made you ignore me and I hated every minute of it.” He seemed dumbfounded by what you just said and you wiped a tear away “I missed you-” you whispered and you continued to looked down before she wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m so sorry” he said as he stroked your head. “But why?” He asked and you looked into his hazel eyes “because I like you”. “Wait like, like like me?” He asked and you nodded. He let out a laugh and you looked up with anger and he stopped “oh no, it just. Well I like you to. Like like.” He said with and awkward toothy grin and you started to giggle.

“Man I’m such an asshole, is there anyway I can make it up to you?” He asked. “ there are a few-“ you said and he smiled “your wish is my command love” he said and you smirked. “One be my boyfriend-”.

“I thought that was a given?” He asked and rubbed your cheek with his thumb. “Two” you smiled “a kiss”. Remus smiled “gladly” he said picking you up and kissing you softly, your lips molded together and you gladly excepted his kiss. Your mouths moved together perfectly and Remus couldn’t get enough of you.

Remus walked you two up the stairs and opened the door placing you on the bed. The other boys were probably out pranking. Remus climed on top connecting your lips once more a soft moan escaping you lips. Remus placed a hand under your shirt “is this okay?” He asked and you nodded with a smiled as you grazed your hand through his hair.

He smiled as he took off you uniform vest and unbuttoned your under shirt pulling your body towards him, pulling you on top so he could undo your bra. He cupped your breasts softly as he started to kiss down your neck. You started to take off his t-shirt and you are met with a very toned torso and start to blush placing your hands on his chest. “I know there ugly. The scars” he said and you shook your head “I think their beautiful” you whispered starting to kiss his neck “I think your beautiful” you whisper on his neck as you trace them.

Remus places his hands on your waist and tucks his thumbs in the waistband of your skirt. He flips the two of you over and pulls your skirt down before standing up and grabbing a condom that was in Sirius’ bedside table with a sticky note that said ‘good luck’ causing Remus to flush. Remus pulls his pants and boxers off rolling the condom over the head of his cock.

He walked back over to the bed and pulled you to the edge kneeling down pulling your panties off licking a stripe up your pussy before wrapping his arms around you legs and flicking his tongue over you clit hearing a mote than pornograpgic moan. He smiled at your reaction before he started to tongue fuck you rubing his thumb over your clit. “Please Remus!” You moaned and he looked up at you from between your legs. “Please what?” He asked and you but your lip softly.

“I need you inside of me” you said and he stood up placing his cock between your lips “of course love” he said before pumping up inside of you. You both groaned at the feeling, Remus was a lot to take but your were determined. Remus placed his hands on your waist and you nodded “move” you said and he pulled out pushing back into you. The two of you moaned together and he started to move more fluently in and out of you.

Remus placed your legs over his shoulders and leaned down “oh god love, you feel amazing” he groaned. “Remus please, I’m close” you moaned and he started to pound into you more and more fast and harder. He bit your earlobe softly before you came and him not far behind you. Remus collapsed next to you and pulled you close to him so your head was resting on his chest. Remus kisses your forehead and you smiled up at him as he pulled the cover over you.

A few minutes later you two were on the verge of falling asleep before a pile of boys fells threw the door and Remus shot up covering you body “what are you doing!” He hissed and James plopped on his bed “forget we sleep her too mate?” He said throwing the pair of boxers off his bed.

Remus huffed before hearing a whistle “ooga booga moony! You hit the mother load this time!” Sirius yelled holding your bra to his eyes “do I look like a fly rem?” He said and Remus threw a pillow and Peter handed Remus your underwear and Remus blushed. You smiled wrapping the blanket around you and kissed Remus on the cheek. “I love you” Remus said and hugged you. “I love you too Remus” you smiled when you continued to get not red by the second.

“-and it’s the truth” you hushed kissing his nose.

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