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simpjaes · 3 months

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FIRST DATE ETIQUETTE (p.sh)

Park Sunghoon is not dull, nor is he the clean cut neighbor your mother thinks he is. Oh, the horrors of if she found out that the man she set you up on this date with immediately took you home and rendered you unable to walk...he'd never be able to defend himself without a swift slap to the head.

៸៸៸ minors do not interact!

៸៸៸ PARING: park sunghoon x afab reader

៸៸៸WC: 9.3k

៸៸៸ TAGS: mentions of food (meat), strangers to fucking immediately to the possibility of dating later, brat taming, mocking and making fun of each other, sneaky sex, flirting and bullying in the same instance, cocky sunghoon, um…they’re kind of competitive in bed

៸៸៸ A/N: what’s that? you’ve read this before? that’s bc i wrote it! I’ve revised the original now to fit sunghoon because I am insatiable in my lust for him. (original title: the bore next door)

smut tags under cut::

SMUT TAGS: dom sunghoon, bratty/sub reader, huge cock agenda (again), he gets the best head he’s ever had, he calls you messy a lot (he likes it messy), face fucking, pussy eating, nipple biting, finger fucking, squirting, dirty talk, wow i can’t believe I actually wrote a condom being used this time!!!!, sunghoon tries to make you moan because his horny brain wants your parents to know, dirty talk, praise, hair pulling.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

23rd street. The restaurant is on 23rd street, and you can honestly say you’ve managed to hit every street but this one. From 13th to 35th, does the street in question even truly exist? Were you set up by your parents?

In short, you have been single since high school. Maybe a few flings here or there throughout college but you never truly settled on one man or woman in a relationship. You’re almost shocked that your parents are pushing so hard for you to find love. They want you to somehow feel the love from the movies, something like they had felt when they met. In this century, unfortunately, love isn’t quite as predictable.

You can’t just pick a person who has a good job and a decent face and assume love will settle in someday.

Not only is it not predictable but it isn’t a priority in your life. You have no interest in meeting the standard a man could hold for you, nor a woman, or family member. You’re here to exist in your own way, work your way up through the corporate food chain, and live in a home with over thirteen cats before dying a peaceful death in your late eighties. Why do you need a man to do any of this? Why do you need to settle for one cock, one set of hands, and one personality?

Right, because mom wants you to at least try to experience what love is. Surely, it’s just because she desperately wants a grandchild from her one and only daughter. Sorry to disappoint, but that will not happen any time soon. Children were never a thought in your mind, nor was marriage, a honeymoon, or a burial plot next to another person. Your mother knows this, but the least you can do is show some effort to please her, right? To prove that relationships just aren’t your thing, and you’d much rather have the funds to live a comfortable life all on your own.

23rd street is the small thumb tack on a map where there is a restaurant that holds a very, very, annoying arrangement.

Your mother had really sold the idea to you. She says the nice neighbor boy next to her seems to be around your age, he brings her the mail sometimes. He seems to have a job, his own car, his own home that sits in a plot next to theirs. His lawn stays mowed, the siding on his house stays clean, and apparently he seems quite lonely considering your mother appears to have watched him enough to know he doesn’t bring any girls home.

At least that she’s aware of.

She doesn’t mention what he looks like and of course, when you’d asked because, in all honesty, that’s the most important thing to you if you’re going to get anything out of this, she simply states that he dresses well, is handsome, and has dark hair.

For all you know, she just set you up on a date with Antonio Banderas.

What you weren’t expecting though, is to find this restaurant almost an hour late and walk in to find an already half-eaten meal in front of a man who looked at you as if you were any stranger on the street.

A stranger you were, and so was he, but honestly, he is attractive. That alone made you feel a bit guilty for not having found this place sooner. The idea that the man in front of you did not wait for you shows that he also has priorities that aren’t you. This is probably a huge inconvenience for him too, if anything.

Imagine your nice neighbor lady telling you to go to a restaurant to meet her daughter? God. The first words out of your mouth are an apology. Not for being late, and not for not even wanting to be here, but for your mother for even trying.

“Sorry about my mom,” you mutter, plopping down into the booth with a sigh. You eye over his food, already knowing that the check will likely be split. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Why the rush?” The man immediately says, pushing an untouched glass of water your way. “I don’t mind that you were late, I was just really hungry.”

You hum at him, waiting for the waitress to come over so you can place the most obnoxious order in the world because you’re really not in the mood to even look at the menu or the prices. Chicken strips and fries, obviously.

“So, what did you order?” You state, eyeing his plate.

“Steak?” He says it like a question, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world and it definitely is. Clearly there is a half-eaten steak that probably costs over twenty dollars on his plate. Still, you were just trying to make small talk.

The man says nothing after this, offering nothing but an awkward atmosphere. It doesn’t take long at all for you to stop caring about the entire arrangement, as if you cared in the first place.

“Look—” You try to offer, and the handsome man in front of you doesn’t even quirk a brow as he sips his own drink. “I don’t even remember your name, and I know my mom is trying to set us up but—”

“You’re not interested, and you have better places to be?” The man finishes for you as he sits his drink down with a gulp that makes much less sound than your own. “That’s fair. My name is Sunghoon, by the way.”

You nod at him, already deciding that you’ll get chicken strips somewhere else on your own so that you can eat them in the comfort of your own home, alone, without a stupidly handsome man in front of you that has, probably, less interest than you do.

“Well, I’m interested, and I don’t have anywhere better to be,” Sunghoon says, shooting his eyes up at you. “And to be quite honest with you, your mother was right. You are pretty.”

Taken aback, you’re somehow comforted by his forwardness towards you. He acts just as uninterested as you do but counters that demeanor with his words. You can’t imagine that this is how the man picks up women, there’s honestly no way he would win that way. No wonder he is single. Then again, you kind of do the same thing. You see an attractive person and you act much the same as Sunghoon right now. Uninterested in anything long-term but clearly interested in something.

“I’m pretty, huh?” You laugh, sipping the water and internally giving this man an extra three minutes to fully sell the idea of this date to you. “Imagine my surprise to walk in and find that I was set up on a date with someone that is actually attractive.”

“Oh?” Sunghoon quirks a brow. “Is this how you return a compliment?”

You shrug.

“Is this how a date normally goes for you—you know, where you’ve already eaten your food and would probably rather pay and leave before she even gets a chance to order?”

“No,” he responds pointedly. “Would you rather me throw a tantrum that you were late?”

“You’d be a lot less dull if you did.” You throw back, eyeing a waitress as she heads over.

Sunghoon watches as you place your order and watches a bit harder at the way you smirk at yourself through nearly everything you say. You must think you’re clever, you must think he’s willing to chase you or something.

“I’m dull?” He questions, staring you down with narrowed eyes when the waitress walks away. “You just ordered chicken strips at one of the most expensive restaurants in town.”

You’re taken aback a bit, shaking off his little insults and sitting straight up. Interesting date, truly.

“Okay then, Sunghoon—” You say his name as if it’s a joke or something, but you don’t really let him react to it. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a systems software developer,” he deadpans, swirling his very nonalcoholic water in his hand. “Not that you’d know what that is or anything. And you?”

In all honesty, you don’t really know what that means, but it isn’t hard to figure it out. Assuming he must make programs or something, assuming he probably flew through college in order to do it in the way he seems proud of what he does. In all honesty, it still sounds like such a bore. He must talk in code or something in his free time.

“I’m—uh—I’m a teacher.” You try to laugh, realizing that you’re kind of putting him down when he very clearly must make more money than you do.

Only now does it set in that your mother stated he has his own home. One that sits directly beside theirs in a neighborhood that you grew up in. One that you tried to find your own home in but ended up in a shitty apartment in the city because it is all you could afford. Sunghoon must make good money.

“Oh yeah? What do you teach?” He perks up in interest, no longer acting as if he is trying to insult you and instead offering conversation to you with such ease that you almost forget you’re supposed to be getting through the date in discomfort.

“I teach everything, I guess. It’s just first grade. I swear, I teach them how to pull up their pants properly more than how to spell words.” You smile to yourself thinking of the loud and obnoxious children you teach five days a week.

Your job is why you don’t want children though. Your job is why you’d rather stay single. All you hear about is how the third-grade english teacher is fucking the fifth-grade science teacher even though he has a wife who is pregnant with their second child. Sometimes you hear gossip about the students themselves. Who in their right mind as an adult would gossip about elementary school kids? It’s no wonder you’re not a favored teacher. You’re sure they’ve said something about you for not having a significant other or a child on the way too.

Sunghoon smiles through your endearment towards your class, eyes perking up at the plate of chicken strips on their way to you. He doesn’t say much when you thank the waitress and doesn’t really pay attention to the way you devour the first strip in nearly one bite.

“Seems like a lively job. I just sit around all day staring at a computer screen…” He begins to drone on about his own job, sounding more like background noise in your head if you’re being honest. You can barely hear him over the crunching of your chicken and you’re a bit thankful for that.

“And I think that it was really worth the—” You interrupt his long string of sentences with a call of his name. “Sunghoon, do you have any other interests?” You ask, sipping your water.

He deadpans at your rudeness of interrupting him. Sunghoon doesn’t often go out on dates, nor does he often get asked about these types of things so, he goes quiet, flicking his eyes down to his hands and then back up to you.

“I like to go hiking, I guess? Watching movies? Sometimes I like to cook—”

Ah. He’s one of those guys.

“Those are like, the most common interests a person can have. You don’t have any special hobbies or weird quirky things you like to do?” You question, trying to see something in him past the fact that he’s nice to look at and has a decent paycheck.

“I don’t really have the time to put into other things. When I’m not working, I’m busy cleaning my house or doing yard work since I’m usually too tired during the week to do it.”

“God, you are such a bore.”

Sunghoon realizes now that maybe you’re not just throwing around banter. Sure, neither of you really wanted to come on this date but he could have used the time away from a computer screen to look at his neighbor’s daughter. If anything, it was an interesting offer, and those don’t come by him too often. He had seen photos of you. He knew you were pretty, and he also should have known you were a bit stubborn with the way your mother warned him before the date.

“If I was so boring, would I be sitting here on a date with a woman I don’t know?” He glares over at you.

“I don’t know, probably. It isn’t the riskiest thing in the world. What? You don’t have tinder?”

Sunghoon looks down again, because no, he doesn’t have fucking tinder and he doesn’t understand why that matters. “Why does that matter?”

“Ah, so we are similar.” You smile to yourself in a small win, and you’re not even sure if it’s even an argument at this point. “No time for hobbies, so no time for dating either?”

He nods slowly at you, completely confused by the way you go from picking his personality apart to finding some way to connect with him.

“We can wrap this up then if you want?” You offer, still picking at the food on your plate. “I can pay for mine, so I release you from this arrangement.”

He just sits there staring at you. What a peculiar woman. Do you really assume he isn’t somehow finding the fun in all of this? In all honesty, this date is going off without a hitch compared to many other dates he’s been on. He has never been on a date where he is criticized, nor has he ever criticized a date himself before.

It’s almost kind of nice, like a breath of fresh air being able to meet someone who isn’t trying to show their best aspects. Someone who is sitting in front of him being as real as they possibly can be. Sure, you’re attractive, but your lack of interest in this date is somehow—flooring.

“What if I want to stay?” He makes eye contact with you. “What if I want to pay for your overcooked chicken?”

“I’d be letting you win if you pay for me, but you’re free to stay.” You wave him off with your hand, realizing that the chicken is very dry and wasn’t hitting the spot like you’d been pretending. “So, what now then?” You add with a tilt of the head.

“Admitting I’m interested in you?” He says it with so much confidence that you’re a little bit surprised, because this entire time you’ve been trying to act as uninterested as possible, despite finding some amount of attraction to Sunghoon.

“Poor you,” You coo, pushing your plate away from you and pulling your almost-empty water closer. “Okay, let’s try and make this worth something then.”

Sunghoon prepares himself to listen, but honestly, he couldn’t have prepared for what you’re about to say to him.

“Neither of us are looking for anything serious right?” You ask, continuing after he nods. “So,” you pause briefly, thinking a bit too hard on how to word it. “Why don’t we just treat it like a tinder date?”

You’re definitely implying that the night could continue together, only to never speak of or see each other again after the sun rises.

“Are you suggesting I bring you home with me?” He looks at you with a face you can’t really read.

“Isn’t that what people do when they’re on a date, find each other attractive, but want nothing more?” You reiterate for him, because he seems to have trouble processing what you’re trying to get across to him. “Unless this isn’t your thing?”

Sunghoon pulls his hand up and pushes his hair out of his face for a moment. He’s thinking about it, barely even realizing that you’ve known each other for less than an hour.

“I didn’t take you for the type of fuck on the first date.” He cocks his head, looking at you in a lazy way.

It feels a little painful that the first curse word he says out loud is describing something that involves you and your offer.

“I’m not, usually, but it has been a while for me and I can’t help but think we could have fun with it.”

He nods, eyeing you down. “Do you want to drive to my house then? Or do I need to bring you back to get your car?”

“Nah, I can drive. I know where you live, considering I grew up next door and all. I can just crash at my parent’s house once we are done.”

Sunghoon kind of shifts his eyes nervously, looking down at the table and then back at you with a lick against his bottom lip. “Speaking of, your parents—” He pauses, fiddling with his hands. “Look, they probably wouldn’t expect me to be the type to uh, get intimate with their daughter on the first date.”

“Only date,” you correct him, amused. “What, you thought we would meet again after this?”

Sunghoon waves you off dismissively. “That’s not the point. I don’t want my neighbors thinking I’m some fuckboy, and I’d rather them not find out because I’m sure your mom would slap the shit out of me the next time I bring her the mail.”

“Sunghoon—” You snort in a mocking tone. “My mom set you up on a date with me, you’re gonna take me home and show me a good time within an hour of meeting me. Imagine if she found out you’re not as sweet and innocent as she thinks–”

His face goes warm, but his eyes darken a bit as he looks at you. “Listen, I don’t usually do this.”

“Well yeah, you seem too boring to actually have some fun.”

Offense taken.

And when he says nothing else to that, you speak up again, this time a bit more gentle.

“Don’t feel like you have to. I can go home and we can pretend this never happened.”

“No, no,” Sunghoon assures, making eye contact with the waitress as if to silently ask for the check. “I could use the distraction.”

He was slim when he stood up, obnoxiously attractive getting into his stupidly expensive car, and even the way he drove in front of you pissed you off. He drove the speed limit all the way to the familiar street of your childhood. What a boring, boring man.

When he pulls into his driveway, you aren’t sure if you should park at his house or your own. You realize if you park at either your parents will wonder why you’re parking in their driveway but not in their living room, or wonder why you’re parked in the clean-cut Sunghoon’s driveway because he would never fuck their daughter on the first date.

You opt to park a block away, walking to Sunghoon’s house and feeling a bit silly for hiding.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Fitting,” you say as you step into his living room and scan the way he is entirely boring.

“What?” He asks from behind you, watching you judge his space.

“Very monotonous, very you.”

Sunghoon sighs at your constant critiques of him, but he’s smiling through it because you’re still here, and you’re the one who suggested coming home with him.

“I’ve gotta say, I’ve never brought a woman home just to have her insult me,” he laughs, stepping around you and placing his jacket on the end of the couch. “I can imagine that your place hasn’t been cleaned since you moved in.”

You glare at him, slipping your own jacket off and throwing it on his floor out of spite.

“I am a comfortable mess, Sunghoon, and you–” you scan the room once more, “are very clearly uncomfortable.”

He shifts his eyes for a second because, yeah. It’s not that he wouldn’t enjoy having colorful photos on the walls or a couple of knick-knacks lying around. Arguing about it isn’t your purpose for being here though, and he’d much rather skip the banter at this point.

“I can admit that your jacket looks good on my floor,” he takes a step forward, attempting to be as bold as he typically would be with a woman who knows how he is in bed. He’s never had to play off of his own cleanliness though. “I’m willing to make a mess of this house if you take more off.”

Oh, okay.

“Oh, so you can be interesting?” You mock him once again, reaching for the hem of your dress (yes, dress.) and looking at him. “You want to see my clothes on your floor?”

Sunghoon watches you intently, seeing your thighs being exposed more and more as the dress raises. His body is already reacting, becoming more attracted to your witty sense of displeasure toward his entire personality and lifestyle. After all, he’s a computer whizz and you deal with screaming children all day. He wonders why he expected anything less. Little do you know though, he fully intends to have you praising him before the night is up.

“I’d like to see you on my floor,” he answers, reaching for your dress and pulling it up further and above your head. “If I’m being honest, anyway.”

You were trying to go slow with the removal of your dress, mostly to see how he reacts to seeing a woman nearly naked in front of him but damn. You weren’t quite expecting how forward he’s being about it. Here you were expecting to be fucked missionary without any foreplay in a bed with all white sheets, right next to a washer and dryer, socks on, lights off.

“Oh,” you gasp, slightly out of character in his opinion but his body reacts even more to that. He’s already allowing himself to get aroused so, naturally, his confidence is also bubbling up through each thought and word he decides to say to you.

“What, you’re shocked?” He laughs, dropping your dress to the floor and scanning your body. “I can admit that I’m a little shocked too.”

You look at him in confusion, moving your arms over your chest and wondering what the fuck he’s talking about.

“You wore a matching set for a first date? With a complete stranger?” He mocks you this time, stepping even closer and running his fingers along the hem of your bra. You can feel the warmth from his thumb gently rubbing the skin as he does it and instantly your body tells on you in the form of goosebumps.

“I’ll have you know,” you’re the one stepping closer this time, “I always wear matching sets, because I like to feel sexy.”

You’re a liar. You definitely wore them just in case.

He hums, mere inches from your face as he looks down at you. It feels like he’s fucking looming, it feels like he must have his heat set too high or something.

It gets even worse when his eyes don’t leave yours, but you feel his hand drop from your chest only to hear the familiar sound of a belt being unbuckled. He stares at you while he does it, his hair falling in his face at the movement of what he’s doing waist down. For some reason, that does it for you, and you’re already rubbing your legs together as you stare right back at him.

“I think that’s bullshit,” he smirks, slipping his belt from the loops of his pants and tossing that to the floor as well, and then he brings his face another inch closer, “and don’t think I can’t tell that you’re turned on.”

You don’t back down, nor do you admit that he’s absolutely right. You just look at him, watching a strand of his hair fall in front of his eyes that are beginning to darken by the second.

“I’m not turned on, believe me, it’ll take a lot more than–” You’re cut off by him planting his hand directly between your legs, two fingers pressing your panties slightly into you.

“Hm?” He encourages you to say that again, but you’ve got your breath caught in your throat at his extreme change in demeanor.

Still, he’s looking directly at your face, watching the way you try to think of a lie.

“You wanna keep pretending that I’m boring?” He asks, sliding his fingers up and pressing against your clit.

You shake your head, finally dropping the act and blinking at him with empty thoughts.

“That’s what I thought,” He ticks his tongue at you, now pulling his fingers away and showing you that even through your panties, his fingers are already soaked. “Now take the rest off.”

You do as he says, watching him step away with his shirt untucked and his pants undone. You note that he grabs a condom, which for some reason reminds you that you’re definitely about to get railed into the next dimension if that bulge behind those pants implies anything.

Standing there with all of your clothes thrown around his living room, you watch him harder than you already had been. He’s slow when he sets the condom down on the table, and even slower when he walks up to you and places a hand on the top of your head before guiding you to sink down.

“Wha–right here?” You ask, feeling the clean carpet offer relief for your knees rather than the hard wood floors of the room over.

“I said I wanted to see you on my floor, didn’t I?” He smiles, already admiring how shameful you’d appear to be if your parents saw you naked and on your knees for him.

You nod, looking up at him. When you reach forward to actually lower his pants though, he steps back and continues to create distance between the two of you as he backs himself up to the wall and lounges against it.

“Crawl to me,” he instructs, wondering if it’s too much for you but letting out a pleased sound of relief when you instantly do it.

Would you normally let a man tell you to do that? No. Would you ever actually listen to a man who speaks to you like this? Fuck no. You can’t defend your actions when you do it and you also can’t lie that you’re absolutely fucking dripping over it. Like, honestly, he’s going to have to deep clean this fucking carpet by the time you leave this house.

When you reach him, you can feel the heat in your cheeks at the very idea of him from this angle. You sit on your knees, lifting your hands to his pants and lowering them before he can try to draw the process out even longer. You can hear him let out a short chuckle at the way you try to be quick with it, and you already know he’s about to say some shit.

“I didn’t expect you to be this eager.” He talks down to you with a deep and raspy voice, one that sounds entirely sensual. In terms of what he says though, honestly, you shouldn’t expect much more considering how the two of you practically roasted each other before this very instant.

You ignore his words, letting his pants drop to the floor and now reaching to pull his briefs down. You were incredibly unprepared for his size as you watched it stand stiff and raging in front of your face. Not a single hint of precum is seen, and it makes you feel kind of pathetic for how wet you’ve already gotten. It almost feels like a challenge now, to make him feel just as desperate as you do now.

Thankfully, your throat is fairly trained for sucking men until they’re trembling. Hopefully, all those dudes you’ve fucked around with before come in handy and don’t let you down this time around.

Sunghoon watches you from above, smiling over the way you stare at his length before finally touching it. He keeps his cool though, wondering how just over an hour ago you were ordering the worst food a restaurant has to offer, scoffing at his job, his hobbies, and now look at you. What a sight.

“Go on,” he encourages you, pressing his hips forward so that the head of his cock hits your cheek, “let me see how messy you are.”

You roll your eyes at him, gripping the base before closing your eyes and breathing in through your nose. The very second you wrap your lips around him, he has both hands on your head, not moving it, not pushing you down or anything, just resting there. You’d think it was sweet if it weren’t for the fact that he pushes his hips forward after four whole seconds.

So, he’s not going to guide your mouth, he’s going to hold it there? Okay, you guess. Thankfully, he’s not being super rough with it like you anticipated. If anything, he’s sliding himself into your mouth much as you’d do on your own.

He hums out at the feeling of your inner cheeks hugging against his length, pressing in more and more with each thrust of his hips until he finally gets the majority of his length past your lips. He can see you breathe through your nose, but he doesn’t feel resistance at all so he presses his hips in even more, essentially until he’s blocking your airways and your throat is restricted around him in a gag.

Instead of pulling your head back though, he feels your fingers grip the back of his legs, you’re trying. He holds your head there in place, feeling your throat massage his cock in probably one of the best ways he’s ever felt.

“Shit,” he seethes out between a bite of his lip, “you’ve done this before?”

The very thought of you letting your throat be used is enough for him to want to keep doing it, but hearing your response as a half-moaned gag vibrating around his length is a whole other story.

He releases his hands from behind your head just to see if what he thinks you’re implying with those vibrations of sounds is right, and god is he thrown for a loop. You stay there, and even when he pulls his hips back before fucking into your throat once more, you still stay there.

He’s going to lose his goddamn mind because never has a woman been able to withstand this amount in their throat for this long for him. Enough to actually have him a little worried that you’re essentially suffocating on him.

Sunghoon snaps his hips back, pulling out of your mouth and leaning down just a bit to grab your chin and guide your eyes up to him.

“Breathe,” he says, watching the way you smirk at him as if you’ve won some sort of award. He narrows his eyes at you, “You can choke all you want babe, but you’re gonna have to not be this cock drunk if you want to pretend that you’ve got the upper hand.”

That motherfucker. You’re trying to make him show just a hint of desperation for you and he completely flips the tables on you?

Before you can even argue again, he’s guiding your lips back on him. You decide that it’s not over yet, he can talk down to you all he wants, but you’re going to be the one laughing at him by the end of the night.

You allow him to place his hands back on your head, and you kind of like the weight of his cock on your tongue if you’re being honest, but god damn does he have a harsh rhythm. His hips snap languidly but he buries himself deep. Even when you try to look up at him as your nose presses against his pubic bone, he’s looking down at you so casually. Like he feels okay. Just okay.

This time, when he pulls his hips back, he doesn’t have to hold your head steady. You chase his length even as it tries to slide from your mouth, and you start to move your head back and forth in time with his hips. You finally receive a moan from him when you reach a hand up and cup his balls, massaging them in one hand as your saliva bubbles out from around your lips.

“So fucking messy–” he chokes out in a surprised moan, praising you for somehow making this feel even better than it already did.

You hum around him again, feeling the weight of his cock pulse against your tongue and you start to taste more of his precum. Shamefully, you’re starting to want this more and more. You want him to call you messy, you want him to bruise your throat. You don’t mind, now that you’ve seen a snippet of what he’s like when he shows his pleasure.

Just a moment goes by when you feel his hands grip your hair, pulling slightly and following the rhythm of your movements, just putting a bit more force behind them until he finally presses you one last time against his pelvic bone, swirling his hips and stretching out your throat impossibly more around him.

“Just like that, yeah,” his moans echo throughout his empty walls and it causes your eyes to flutter as you try to breathe in through your nose. When you gag, he moans again. “Fuck, you know exactly what you’re doing.”

Then, he releases you and watches with a smirk at the way you pull back in a deep breath before wiping your mouth.

You’re not sure why, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel proud. Maybe it’s because he’s managed to pull out this weird, needy side of you, or maybe it’s because he looks incredibly good looking at you like this after the two of you spit insults at each other all night.

“Do you want me to return the favor?” He asks, finally unbuttoning and removing his shirt.

Seeing him now, you stare at his chest and toned arms, wanting to grab onto them and feel him do whatever it is he wants to do to you. He, on the other hand, can’t tell if you’re nodding to his question or looking him up and down slowly.

“You were so talkative earlier, what happened?” He smiles, stepping forward and falling to his knees himself, nudging your legs open in one go as he presses you back against his floor. “Do you want to fuck my tongue, or no?”

He continues to smile at your silence, eyes trained between your legs as he spreads them and then looks up at your face. “No?”

You shake your head, leaning back on your elbows to watch him and take a breath in.

“It’s hard to talk when you’re like,” you motions towards him, “that.”

He chuckles, taking it as a compliment before snatching a pillow off of his couch and tapping your thigh to get you to lift up. You do so, allowing him to place the pillow under your ass before he settles himself there.

His eyes stay locked on yours as his fingers start to trail to your core, slipping through your folds with such ease that your embarrassment shows plainly on your face.

“Messy,” he compliments, lightly tapping against your clit before lowering his head and blowing softly against the glistening heat you offer to him. “Keep your legs spread for me, darling.”

You still watch him, his eyes glaring up from between your spread thighs as he lets his tongue fall from his mouth and lick one long and languid stripe up your slit, stopping just before your clit and pulling back as if he’s tasting. You’re not sure what it is about him but goddamn, he must know he looks good when he’s pleasuring a woman.

Despite him asking you to keep your legs spread for him, it appears that he doesn’t trust you to do it because he’s still got one hand prying one of your legs apart and his head moving in all sorts of ways as he allows his tongue to lap every part of you besides your clit. Even his other hand, exploring and gently placing pressure against your entrance– the way he’s doing this makes you want to press forward, it makes you want to do exactly as he asked.

You roll your hips forward, and he instantly attaches his lips to your clit. You stop, and he trails back down and flicks his tongue against your folds in a teasing way. You grind forward, he’s right back on your clit, flicking his muscle the same way and eliciting a whine from you.

This time though, when you roll your hips back, he takes both hands and presses your legs open as far as he can get them, spreading your pussy out across his lips for him to take full control of. He nips at your clit before licking down, pressing the pointed muscle into you and only then does he release your legs. Now, he’s sliding both hands under your ass and rocking you against his face, angling his head so that he can lick inside to taste your plush and wet walls.

God, you’re gonna lose it. Even if you didn’t want to, you’d think the way he’s moving his mouth is enough to get anyone to take advantage of it. You moan, pressing forward and back against his mouth as your own fingers fall to your clit. You rub when you press forward, feeling his warm and wet saliva drip from your slit and down to your ass, and you rub harder when you pull back, watching his eyes flutter open and still somehow manage to glare at you.

And just as soon as it started, you blink and his face is right there. You would have let out a shocked sound, because jumpscare much? But you moan instead, because he hovers over you with a smirk and an arm between the two of you, his fingers instantly sliding into you as he attaches his lips to yours with little more than a moan of his own.

“Have you ever tasted yourself?” He asks, licking against your lips and scissoring his fingers open inside of you.

You have, but for some reason it tasted better this time when he prods his tongue against yours. Perhaps it’s because it’s from him, or maybe it’s because you are a little obsessed with the way he navigates sex.

When he pulls back from your mouth, now losing himself a little bit in the heat of the faces you make when you feel good, he can’t help but give you a moan along with your own. You sound so fucking good when you’re not talking your shit, and god he knew that mouth could do more than be annoying.

“Open up,” he whispers against your lips, licking your bottom lip as he thrusts his fingers deeper into you, “let me hear you.”

You can’t really help it. When you open your mouth, you’re practically panting for him. His arm is moving harshly as he fucks his fingers into you and causing you to nearly lose balance on your elbows, but he holds you there with his other arm wrapped around your waist, still licking against your lip and smirking when you still can’t say anything.

“Louder,” He instructs, at least wanting you to moan louder for him if you’re going to act like this when he’s touching you. “Let your momma hear how good it feels, babe, go on.”

Your eyes shoot open after that, and god, he is the fucking worst. Or maybe not, you can tell he does it on purpose. His fingers curling up inside of you and putting intense pressure against a spot that takes every man ages to find if they manage to even remember it.

“Sunghoon,” you groan, rolling your eyes back while rolling your hips forward, hand shooting to his and holding it there, “can’t you just fuck me already?”

He chuckles, dipping his head down to give a sharp bite against your nipple, his fingers still curling up into that spot.

“Soak my fingers first.” He says, floored by how good your voice sounds when you want to get fucked.

He continues to suck and bite against your nipple, and that sends shocks of pleasure straight down to where his fingers meet your g-spot. You could come right now if he’d just–

You roll your hips forward harder, grinding your clit against his wrist and essentially fucking yourself on his fingers now. He moans against your nipple at the movement, biting down harder as he hears you just above him holding your breath. It seems like you like not being able to breath, which is just fucking great for him. Your mom would be so heartbroken, honestly.

“You think you can ride my cock like this?” He asks, popping your nipple out of his mouth and moving those bites up your neck and to your ear, “Think you can take it?”

You nod with heat rushing through your body, feeling his wrist stiffen up for your pleasure to grind against.

Fuck, he can feel your cunt gripping his fingers as you work yourself up and it takes everything in him not to pull his fingers from you and absolutely bury himself into the tight heat you’re offering, but he holds back, pulling from your neck and watching the way your brows furrow and your mouth falls slack.

“Yeah, that’s it babe, ride it.” he encourages, hearing your wet slide against his fingers with each movement of your body.

You shake as it washes through you, feeling his fingers remain in their spot against your little bundle of pleasure inside of you. You feel like you can explode from this alone and he practically forces it out of you, pulling his fingers out and immediately rubbing circles on your clit.

“Let it go for me,” he encourages in a pleasured sigh, watching your body tremble involuntarily as your face contorts to what anyone else would assume is pain. He moves further back and watches your body soak both him and his floor. “Fuck, yes, such a fucking mess.”

Well, that’s never happened before and the fact that you’re still orgasming is also new. You feel so sensitive, releasing in waves that offer little in terms of self control. Your hands shoot to his arm, gripping him so tightly as you try to hear his moans for you, but to be honest, you can’t hear a fucking thing through this wall of arousal in your head.

Finally, you open your eyes and he’s just looking at you, smirking at the dripping against his legs and the wet spot on the floor.

“Messy, messy girl.” He says with a chuckle. “Dirtying up my living room like this? Come on, get up.”

This is the first time Sunghoon has ever had a woman squirt for him, and honestly he’s been trying for ages to let someone experience this through him, goddamn was it sexy to see. You look absolutely fucking gone at this moment, and he might be fucking in love with the image. So badly does he want to see those shaking legs try to stand for him, so badly, does he want to see you fucking buckle.

“Come on,” he says again, not giving you enough time to even think about standing before he’s pulling you up on wobbling legs and pressing your toward the couch.

He watches how you wobble over, shuffling your feet with your knees turned inward with each step. He can’t help but lick his lips, seeing how your arousal drips down both of your legs in a shameless show of how much his fingers alone could do for you.

“Sorry,” You rasp out as you make your way over, brain fogged from the orgasm and unable to feel much at all outside of the pulsing inside of you. “I’ve never–”

“Don’t worry, I like the mess.” He smiles, snatching up the condom and tearing the wrapper open with ease before rolling it down his length, staring at you.

Oh, right, he still hasn’t even fucked you yet. Fuck, he’s good.

He sits himself next to you, pulling an arm around your waist and guiding you on top of him. He doesn’t even think twice at your shaking legs, soothing them as you follow his hand and position yourself against his long neglected cock being held up with his other hand.

“Gonna keep that promise?” he asks, still smoothing his hands over your legs and looking up at you. “Gonna take my cock better than you did my fingers?”

You nod, feeling a pulse of electricity inside of you. Willing you to take more, wanting to be stretched further.

Besides, you know that once you’re seated with his length fucking impaling you, you’ll at least have his broad shoulders to hold onto if you need to stay steady.

And when you sink down, you hear the sound you’ve been trying to pull from him all night. He lets out a soft moan, almost a whimper if you think hard enough about it, and it ignites a brand new fire in you as you take him in inch by inch. Feeling the searing stretch offer a bit of pain despite the sheer amount of wet you have collected between your legs.

He can feel you clench around him in the attempt to adjust, and your legs shaking only offer even more in terms of pleasure as you envelope him entirely with your heat. He can’t help but moan, almost unable to keep up his dominant persona with a pussy so sweet wrapped around him. God, he loves blind dates, honestly.

“Mhm,” he hums, rubbing both of his hands now against your thighs as you sit yourself flush against him and wait to adjust to his size, “I definitely like you.”

You fall forward with a small laugh, the irony of the situation a bit too much on top of your mind falling helplessly and embarrassingly fast at how lucky you are to have a mother to set you up with such a man.

He’s a bit soft at this moment, wrapping both arms around your waist and listening to your breathless laughs against his neck. Loving the way each inhaled chuckle forces your body to squeeze his cock delightfully tight.

God, You’re pretty, and so fucking annoying. Just his type.

“I’m still going to fuck you senseless though.” he finally says, feeling your body still at his words as you lift a bit, just to slide back down on him.

“Is that a promise?” You ask weakly, pretending that he didn’t already manage to do it with his hands alone.

He nods, the softness in his eyes disappearing instantly when he feels the drag of your cunt hug his length. He doesn’t hold back his moaning for you this time though, and he shows no shame in slapping your ass, and guiding you even closer to his chest.

You stand on your knees a bit on top of him, watching his eyes zone in on your tits in his face. Hopefully, he’s going to keep that promise too.

His hips snap up harshly as his hands grope your ass and spread you apart. He snaps his hips again and again, nearly pulling his entire length out of you each time just to fill you up once again. Stretching you open and loosening you up, the pleasure of it hitting him right in the throat each time with small grunts against your nipple when you bounce at the movement.

You whimper out, the sounds still echoing throughout his house along with the sounds of your thighs slapping against his. His grunts are deeper, and all of the sounds together sound like a desperate soundtrack of what you’ve always wished sex was like. He fucks you good, despite your legs still shaking, and despite the pain of his teeth biting against your skin now.

You can’t help it when you fall forward again, hugging around his head as he starts to relentlessly fuck into you at a faster pace, the thrusts going from slow and deep to tight and pointed. His thick cock easily pressing against that same spot his fingers had been teasing earlier. You choke out at the feeling, legs jolting and causing you to sit again out of sensitivity.

He doesn’t falter at your failure to stay in position for him, and instead he gropes your ass harder, swirling your hips around him. You can feel how hard he is inside of you, splitting you open and pulsing at a near constant pace.

“Ride it,” he instructs, much like he did with his fingers and you follow suit, lifting just slightly and sliding back down again. “Harder,” he demands, pulling his head from your grasp and looking up at you with a wild smirk.

You look down at him, wondering how pitiful you must look up here. He appears to be loving it though, absolutely in love with the way you struggle to do what you swore you’d be able to.

Trying again, you begin to bounce on him and he grants you his fingers on your clit for that, moaning at your own choice of rhythm and leaning forward yet again to pop his presumed favorite nipple back into his mouth.

The ministrations of his fingers paired with his mouth sends you spiraling once again into a world of pleasure. The shaking in your legs become more of a driving factor than anything as you ride him better than you’ve ever ridden anyone.

Finally, he’s the one moaning out and trying to string together choked words of praise.

“Your grip is so tight,” he mutters out, kissing up your chest and to your neck, “i can fucking feel you dripping down my legs.” He adds in a moan, losing himself in the way you move your hands through his hair and scratch at the nape of his neck. He wants to ruin you so badly, and he’s already drenched in you. He wants more.

You knew you’d have him just as desperate as you by the end of the night. Now look at him, muttering out strings of curse words as you do nothing but ride and pet him. He’s melting under you, and you’ll be damned if he comes before you get that second orgasm.

Shooting your hand to your clit to replace his lazy movements, you work yourself up to your second orgasm and he just watches you, taking in the image of you practically riding him into oblivion until you’re clenching even tighter around him, throwing your head back and shooting your hands to his shoulders as you harshly roll your hips into his. You’re working yourself through it when he starts pumping into you again, short and tight thrusts pushing you through your orgasm until he’s gripping you equally as hard, holding you down on him as he spills out and into the condom in more of a purr than a moan.

You watch him, dazed out of your fucking mind as he bites against his bottom lip and slowly blinks through his orgasm as you. Part of you wishes he just did it raw, wanting so badly for him to make a mess of you like you did to him.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You find yourself with him at your parent’s house just a week later, eating lunch in the chaotic mess of your mother’s kitchen. It’s funny, really, how he’s trying to be polite to her as if he’s not about to take you next door and probably fuck you against an open window just to blow his own cover.

“I told you he was a keeper,” your mother compliments him as she lays a plate of croissants on the table. “Just yesterday he offered to mow our lawn when we head off for vacation this weekend!”

She’s praising him much like you wouldn’t, and you kick him under the table for trying to suck up to her even more now that he’s fucked you several times already.

“Did he now?” You ask, glaring over at him and then smiling sweetly at your mother. “Guess he is kind of a keeper, maybe.”

His eyes shoot to you and he smiles around his bite of croissant at you.

“You were right though,” he counters you towards your mother, “she’s definitely a handful.”

Your mother crosses her arms as she leans against the counter, looking between the both of you.

“How many dates have you been on without telling me?” She asks, looking at you.

“A few…” If she considers it a date to meet up and fuck every other day this week.

“We had lunch a few days ago.” he adds, backing you up. It’s just that the lunch wasn’t exactly like–you know, at a restaurant, and if she knew that cum was on the menu, perhaps you both would be slapped shitless.

“So, are you guys going to be exclusive, or?”

Sunghoon looks at you curiously, and you look back at him.

“I dunno, it’s only been a week, Mom.”

She nods, clapping once before pushing off of the counter and leaving the kitchen.

It’s silent between you and Sunghoon for a few moments before he speaks up.

“I wouldn’t be against it.”

“Against what?” You ask, looking at him with a raised brow.

“You know, like, dating. I can’t imagine anyone actually putting up with you besides me, anyway.”

You kick him again from under the table, causing him to wince out in pain before glaring at you. You smile in return though, giving him a shrug and now rubbing your foot against the bruise you probably just caused.

“I find myself agreeing with that statement,” You laugh thinking hard about your next words. “But for some reason, agreeing with you pisses me off more.”

Sunghoon nods, smiling through the pain of the bruise forming on his shin.

“Good thing I know how to fix that, huh?” He finishes the conversation, fully aware that he knows how to shut you up and make you love it.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

#enhypen smut #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut #enha smut

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ambisweetiepie · 1 month

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I want to talk about my dad for a little bit. There is a lot of triggering content here, read at your own risk.

My dad passed away on March 9th. My sisters, my mother, and I had all left my dad. For my Mom, it was the hardest thing she'd ever done.

I have been low contact with him.

When I was in high school, I was in a bad traffic accident while I was driving to school. I was put on a stretcher and taken via ambulance to the ER. They checked me over, and despite the severity of the wreck, I was okay. My mom came to get me and bring me home. I was of course in some shock, but she helped me calm down and got me laughing by the time I got home. Dad came out and saw us laughing, and yelled at me. He was pissed that I had wrecked his car. That morning when he had heard I was in an accident and taken to the ER, he just slept in and had mom take care of it.

I left kansas first and went to college.

One day my sister was watching tv, spending time with my mom, when my dad wanted to show her a video where something bad happened to a dog. He was torn up about the bad thing that happened to a dog. My sister didn't want to see the video. He insisted. But she didn't want to see a dog being hurt. So my dad attacked her, choking her. My mom had to pull him off of her.

My younger sister has a mental disability. He wanted her to mow the lawn, and she was trying to. She got overwhelmed and exhausted, so she stopped and went to sit on the porch for a second. He attacked her for that. I was so furious that I was so far away and unable to protect her.

He was on the board of child abuse prevention.

He taught Karate to children, and would hurt them. He would hurt them on purpose to teach them a lesson. Children were pulled out of his class.

He was a frightening person to live with. He would scream and argue with you. It didn't matter who was right and who was wrong. Your only choice is to either leave, or admit that you're wrong. It's the only way to protect yourself. In the morning he would be smiling and happy and pretend nothing happened. There would be no resolution.

The trauma response I have from growing up with him has cost me multiple jobs. I have severe rejection sensitive dysphoria. This makes sense because growing up, rejection meant I would be verbally attacked. So now when I am given negative feedback on a job, I can breakdown crying. If I am told I did something wrong, I will agree. I will not try and prove that I didn't do anything wrong, or that they were mistaken, or that it was someone else's fault. If I can't leave, admitting I am wrong is the only way to protect myself.

My dad was never happy. There was always something he could find to be angry about.

I got home after school at around 3:30. Dad would get home at 4. I shouldn't sit down and relax at all after getting home. I needed to go straight to doing the dishes. But sometimes I would sit down for a moment, and then I would hear him get home, and the garage door open, and I would panic.

Mom regrets not leaving him sooner. She feels like she failed us as a mother. But she was a victim too. He cheated on her 3 times. He complained about her constantly. He was every bit as abusive towards her as he was towards us. His family has fond memories of how we always had family get together at our house. But that was all my mom, he hated it. When she finally left him, I thought he would move on. But he just had a new thing to be angry and upset about. He never stopped trying to get my mom back. Mom has confided with me that she had to leave because it was either him or her. She was not clear on if she meant he would have killed her, or that she would have killed herself.

His family has had so much animosity for us. For leaving him. From his point of view, and his side of the story, we left him for nothing. What did he do wrong? If you try to explain something, he would say "that was one time!" and wouldn't believe that you left him for one thing he did once.

People had such nice things to say about him at his funeral.

I've had a hard time. Nowhere near as hard of a time as if I had lost my mom or one of my sisters. Not as hard as losing someone who was actually close to me.

How do you mourn someone like that? He was still my father. He will always be my dad. He loved his children. He would have killed us if we had stayed. He would have absolutely accidentally choked one of us to death. If mom wasn't there to pull him off of my sister, she may have died.

We had no proof, but we are all certain he sexually assaulted my older sister when she was a child. Memories rose up only a few years ago for her. Part of us could say that those aren't real memories. But none of us would. Of course we are going to believe her. It only makes sense that he would have done that. It lines up.

For the past 5-10 years I've been low contact with him. He was an old man in detererating health because he didn't take care of himself. He did drugs and ate unhealthy food. He is the kind of person who has always believed his own lies. So he fully believed we up and left him for no reason. That we kicked him out when he visited on Christmas for no reason.

Most of my family was no-contact with him.

Before my sister had those memories of him, a certain cycle happened multiple time. She would be no contact. She would be low contact. She would believe he was better. She would allow herself to have a relationship with him again, and open her heart to him. He would hurt her. She would go no contact. He would be outraged and not understand why suddenly she went no contact.

I talked to him rarely, and lied to him constantly. "No, I don't know why everyone stopped talking to you beginning a few years ago. No, I do not talk to my siblings. I talk to you rarely on the phone, because that's the way I am. I barely talk to anyone on the phone. My older sister? No, we had a falling out and so I do not know her address." I steered the conversations away from them and kept it surface level.

If I cut him off, if we had all cut him off. He would have come out in person. He had my address. He had my younger sister's address.

If I just talk to him lightly, low contact, here and there. It was a balancing act, but it kept me safe, and protected his old man emotions.

My older sister was upset when he died, because he never admited any fault. He never apologized.

Of course he didn't, he was never mentally well. He never understood he was at any fault. That was something she would have never gotten.

I don't have anywhere I was going with this. I just needed to write things down.

The day he died was my older sister's birthday. In a way, it was fitting.

#tw: sa #tw: child abuse #tw: abuse #tw: sucidal thoughts #tw: death

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melanieph321 · 9 months

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Facundo Pellistri - Strike Again Chapter 2

Enjoy!

Pellistri attended one party that summer, however it did not go as planned.

During the days he spent long hours in the sun, mowing people's lawns. The idea was to make some extra money and perhaps get out of the house more.

"It runs like a Ferrari dad, just like you said she would."

Wherever he may be, Pellistri hoped that his dad listened when he spoke to him.

"But she needs the oil tanked changed, just like I said."

They had spent the previous winter renovating their old lawn mower, but with his father's absence it had just been gathering dust in the garage.

"How much do I owe you dear?"

"Just ten pounds Mrs Willster."

"Only ten quid?"

"Well, I only did half the lawn." It was too hot to stay outside all day.

"At least let me bring you a bottle of water dear."

"Thank you Mrs Willster."

She was an old lady who walked slowly because of her bad hip. One of his best customers. Pellistri usually ranked them by how hot their daughter's were. However, Mrs Willster's daughters were as old as his mother. She did have a granddaughter though, Lisa Willster.

"Hey, Pellistri!"

It was she who brought him his water, not her grandmother.

"Where have you been hiding? I haven't seen you all summer?"

Lisa was fairly tall for a girl. She had a slim waist and not so much of a figure, but her face was the face of a model. He believed she had done that before, some modeling jobs for a few known brands, like H&M and Hollister.

"I've been around." He jumped off the lawn mower and leant his body against it. He hadn't been working out as much as he would've at football camp, but his lean body was still visible through his sweaty t-shirt.

"I'm sorry about your dad." She said, handing over his bottle of water.

"Thanks." He stepped away from the lawn mower. There was no point in trying to be cool when your dad was dead. What's so cool about that?

"How is your mother holding up?"

"You know," He shrugged, taking a sip of his water. "She cries a lot."

"And how are you holding up?"

Pellistri flinched when Lisa's hand went to caress his arm, her touch generating goosebumps on his skin.

"You know how it is."

Mrs Willster lost her husband last year, Lisa's grandfather. He thought she could relate to how he was feeling at least a little bit.

"Yes, but my grandad was old. He was bound to die sooner than later."

Pellistri held the aching laughter bubbling up in his stomach. He liked that she didn't seem to take the subject of death too seriously. During his time of mourning he had run into people afraid to look him in the eye or even address the fact that his father was crushed by a 600 kilo fridge.

"It's still sad." He said.

Lisa popped the gum that she was chewing. "I guess. Are you coming to my party tonight?"

Lisa's parents were on holiday in Egypt. That's why she and her younger sister were staying with their grandmother. They took the opportunity of abandonment to throw parties at their parents house, all summer long.

"Maybe I'll stop by."

"Cool."

He got home, took a quick shower and threw on the only clean shirt he could find in the ocean of clothes that lay scattered on his bedroom floor. Usually he was good at keeping things tidy, but lately, since his mother didn't bother to clean up, why should he?

"Where are you going?"

Pellsitri came down the stairs smelling like three kinds of body spray.

"I'm just going to a friend's house."

"Which friend?" She questioned, leaning her body against the frame of the kitchen door. The bags underneath her eyes looked worse than before. She looked like a nurse coming off a night shift at the hospital.

"Lisa Willster."

"You're going back to the Willster's? Did you forget something?"

"No, Mama. I'm going to Lisa Willsters' house, not her grandmother's."

"Lisa Willster's house. Why? Is she your girlfriend?" Her arms folded.

Pellisitri sighed. "No, Mama. She's just a friend. I'm going to her house to hang out with my friends. Am I not allowed to do that?"

Her face softened. "No. Of course you are cariño. I just don't want you home so late."

"I won't be, I promise." He kissed her cheek on his way out.

He sometimes worried about his mother. Her work had given her a month off to mourn the loss of his father. It's been a month and a half.

Arriving at Lisa Wilster's, Pellistri decided to let go of his worries for the night. It was summer after all, a teenager's dream.

"Pellistri you came!"

He was surprised to be greeted in the door with a kiss. Lisa's soft lips tasted of something sweet yet sour, perhaps a fruity cocktail.

"Come inside, there's a lot to drink."

Like Lisa he got drunk pretty fast. He didn't know many of her friends at the party so he clinged onto her side for the majority of the night. Although she threw up in the sink after giving him a sloppy blowjob in the upstairs bathroom.

Pellistri decided to make his way home after that, taking a detour around her block.

Lisa lived on Church Road so the cemetery wasn't too far from her house. The gates to cross through it were closed. He still made it over the fences somehow. It was too dark and his mind too cloudy to read the names on the hundred tombstones, but he did remember which aisle his father was buried in, the same aisle in which his local grocery store stacks his favorite cornflakes, aisle number six.

"I know I shouldn't have lied about the bike when I was ten. Or the goldfish, which I flushed down the toilet by the way." He sat slumped down in front of his father's grave, warm tears running down his cheeks. "And I lied to you and Mama about wanting to move back to Uruguay once I've finished school. I want to stay here in Manchester and play football in the highest league someday."

One thing his father hated was being lied to. Although they weren't many, Pellistri had told a few lies in his life.

"She's doing terrible by the way. I've never seen her cry this much. Even some neighbors complained. Oh Papa, please forgive me." Pellisrti cried like the lost child he was. The worst lie he has ever told his father was just days before he got crushed by the fridge. "I was just angry." He sniffed. "Your english is…or was fine. What I said, about you learning better English so that you could get a job that pays more, I shouldn't have said that. I was just angry that you and Mama wouldn't be able to buy me new cleats ahead of the summer. Please forgive me."

"Who's there!"

A light flashed over his head.

Pellistri shot up to his feet.

"You, stop there!"

He picked up the pace and started running, stumbling over several flower arrangements.

"I said stop!"

His legs felt like jelly beneath him, the alcohol in his blood was slowing him down. He plowed through the cemetery like a criminal on the run. He was unsure if he still had someone at his heels once he got back to the gates. He leaped over the fence but crashed down hard. A loud groan left his mouth as his feet hit the ground, but the painful sensation quickly left him because of the adrenaline rush that he was on. He hurried back to Church Road and Lisa Willster's house. But had no interest in joining the party again. He walked past the house until he got to the end of the road. His heart was in his throat, beating loudly from the little sprint he had just underwent. He sat down on the sidewalk inspecting the continuous throbbing in his left leg.

"Shit." He said, confirming that he had indeed sprained his ankle. There was also a sensation of nausea. Leaning forward, vomit spilled out of his mouth, creating a stream that ran down the lit up street.

"Facundo?"

Someone called his name. A girl. His eyelids folded, struggling to stay open. He felt a set warm hand caress his cheeks and then it all went dark.

#fanfiction #manchester utd #football imagine #facundo pellistri #manchester united #man utd

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somewhat-sanguine · 7 months

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and your mom would drink until she was no longer speaking, and dad would dream of all the different ways to die (alienation of affection)

My view of what a “healthy” relationship looks like is… twisted, at best. Non-existent at worst. I could never really tell which one of my parents was in the wrong, and who was in the right. Truth be told, before my father’s stroke in 2013, it did appear to be my mother who was the instigator and the “problem”.

I vividly remember my father, who worked long hours while my mother lied about at home to drink and smoke cigarettes, coming home to try to just give her a kiss on the cheek. It was rejected. She would accuse him of cheating. My father started sleeping on the couch when I was around eight years old, and although my parents tried to say it was because of his bad back, I knew what the real reason was. Alienation of affection. Not from him, from her.

My parents met each other in a newspaper ad, of all places. Both were fast approaching their forties, and I suppose they thought time was running out. My mother was, and still is, a devout Christian. My father is agnostic. My mother, according to her drunken ramblings that I unwillingly paid witness to as a pre-teen, did not believe in any sex that wasn’t for the explicit purpose of procreation. She got her two kids, and he was left in a loveless, passionless marriage. I’m not sure what the game-plan for sustaining a loving marriage and raising well-rounded children was, but clearly it didn’t pan out well. My mother would get obscenely drunk, pass out, and my father would always carry her to bed. His kindness was not returned, not even with so much as a "thank you."

Seeing my mother drink away his money and contribute nothing to the household coloured my view of what a relationship shouldn’t be. Was my father an alcoholic as well? Yes, he was…however he went outside the home and contributed to it. He worked full time while mowing the lawn and doing husbandly duties during the weekends. My mother’s largest contribution was buying McDonald’s with my father’s money for my brother and I. If we were lucky, she would toss some frozen pizza into the oven and call it a night. There were some nights that she would drink herself into such a state that she was incapable of even feeding us. My father was also too drunk at this point to care, as well. I developed a taste for cold, still-in-the-can ravioli that I still crave to this day.

I have no problem with women who choose to go outside the home and work, I have no problem with women who choose to be proper home-makers and full time child-rearers…but what does seem unfair is when a spouse is allowed to drain their partner of finances while just indulging in their addiction. I’m an addict and alcoholic as well, I get it, to a point. But how could someone look into their hungry child’s eyes, hungry not just for food but for love and support and guidance, and choose to look away from their eyes just to continue to stare down into the bottom of the bottle? How could you reject the man you’ve married innocent advances, especially after he’s just slaved away all day at work for you? When I was with my ex-fiance, I had dinner waiting for him when he came home. I greeted him with a hug and a kiss, I helped him take his shoes off and had the house cleaned and his sleep clothes ready for him. I’m not saying this is how all women should be, or even strive to be. Perhaps seeing how my mother treated my father made me want to go in the extreme opposite direction of how she was.

I want to be a mother and a wife. It’s one of my greatest goals in life. I find myself to be so very different from my mother, and sometimes I wonder if it’s just my nature or if my upbringing caused me to be so resentful of her, that I try as hard as I can to be her opposite…and that makes me even more ashamed to share the traits of alcoholic and schizophrenic with her.

I know I am not her. I know I am my own person. I know alcoholism is common amongst schizophrenics, and it doesn’t mean that I am becoming my mother or that I will ever become my mother. But I would be a liar if I said that I wasn’t fearful of it.

#alcoholism #trauma #parents #growing up #schizophrenia #drinking #mens rights

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starseverance · 1 year

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even numbers for 💫!

Ask Game Link! Hi hi El! Thank you so much for the ask!

2.) What chores is your f/o good at? Maybe folding laundry, or mowing the lawn/gardening? What chores do they do that you usually don’t? 💫 is good at organizational stuff, but I'm also good at organizational stuff. We both get it from our mothers. He does any laundry that needs to be done, and I am so thankful for that because I hateeee doing the laundry. He handles bringing out the recycling bins, and I do the trash and the greenbin.

4.) What ways does your f/o show their love for you? By surprising you with your favourite snack once in a while, or giving you back massages when you’re in pain? 💫 shows his love for me in so many ways, back massages, hugs, verbal affection. He's there for me, he's understanding, he's just... amazing. 💫 loves to be in the same room as me, even if we're both just doing our own things.

6.) Is your f/o fussy over you if you have any self-destructive behaviours? What are their ways of making you care for yourself? Oh Gods, yes. If I'm ever missing meds or skipping meals, 💫 will nag and bother me until I get what I need. He's gentle and kind about it, but he wants to make sure I am okay. Speaking of which, he'd like me to take my pill now t-t.

8.) What do they usually do to take care of you when you’re ill, and vice versa? (More importantly, do they burn the soup?) When I'm feeling under the weather, 💫 snuggles with me, even if he might get sick himself. He's very confident in his immune system lmao! He also gets me heating pads to help with the aches, and makes sure that I get a lot of fluids. He wouldn't burn the soup, but he'd be shocked if I ate it!

10.) What’s their contact name and assigned picture? What do they have for you? We're so boring lol, both of us have each other's first and last name as our contacts, as well as nice pictures of one another.

12.) Describe their hugs/cuddles. 💫 's hugs and cuddles feel like home no matter where we are. His arms make me feel safe, protected.

14.) Can the two of you act like functioning humans inside a grocery store together or are you both too good at getting off track and making the other laugh? 💫 can act like a functioning human inside of a grocery store. I cannot. Idk what it is but grocery stores make us dissociate and switch like nothing else- probably because we all love grocery shopping an unreasonable amount and everyone wants to front for that. 💫 is the one who keeps track of the list, and I'm the one that adds everything that isn't on the list. Especially in the baked goods section, I love food. I'm getting excited just THINKING about grocery shopping.

#sev's thoughts #f/o: yn1ipc #asks #ask answers #ask game answers #lowkey multiple people what about it

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qupritsuvwix · 2 years

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Critical Rage Theory:

“J. D., I did the best I could.”

My mother is in a assisted living facility in another state. My brother moved back there a couple years ago.

I cannot relate the entire story effectively without writing a book or making it look like I am feeling sorry for myself or expecting you to feel bad… I have been told it was “not that bad, get over it”. “You should stop dwelling on it.” “You were a child, you did what you could.” “It’s over.”

Well, no it isn’t. Not because my abuser is dead. Not because my father is dead. Not because my mother is almost dead. My brother is a stranger to me. My current life and work reverberates with words and actions that occurred during the last third of the last century. It wasn’t over when I had to beg for counseling for my daughter because I couldn’t get counseling for myself. She only had a situation because I was having a really bad patch and I was taking it out on her. So I did some lying and I got her somebody to talk to for awhile without anybody listening in. And I changed. I had to do it myself.

I’m not supposed to be a “victim”. I’m white, male, and and and I was a white male child when my mother’s second husband, another white male, with a steady job and a not really bad reputation in the community, who mowed his lawn and kept his house painted while he sat in the American Legion and drank two dollar pitchers of Falstaff every night and drove home drunk with us in the car… When a man in our church had him investigated after I told him that we were whipped with my belt by my mother while her husband watched… That we never had a key to the house and we spent hours sitting on the concrete steps waiting for them to come back from whatever bar they were at… That the police brought me straight back to them the first time I ran away… The man was told to back off because my mother’s second husband was a city employee and he didn’t have a record while my father’s family was full of miscreants with records and bouts of incarceration. !!!

“It wasn’t that bad considering what happens to other people” It’s not “what happened” that was “so bad”. It was what didn’t “happen” that was “so bad”. Only two families, two intact middle class white families of kids I knew from church and school… Only two families tried to help me. And they did “the best they could.” It wasn’t much and it wasn’t ultimately enough, but they tried.

As for “my father”? He was married five more times, four times to a woman with children. He spent the last thirty fucking working years of his life as a counselor for mental health, sexual abuse, and incest survivors… He spent almost twenty years of his life as a protestant minister. He met my mother in bible college. I met him several times and was even talking to him regularly when he died. He apologized to me once… forty-five years after… it…

Somebody said I was just a kid whining about what he didn’t get for christmas as a child. I said christmas was miserable for me then and it still is. I wanted a family for Christmas. What I got was whatever my mother’s fucker was willing to put up with!

I know I have mental problems. I think my mother did. I’m pretty sure I ignored my brother’s needs. And I’m real sure that alcoholic red neck asshole was a couple bricks shy of a picnic.

It’s more than possible that my father, with his preaching ticket and his later master’s degree or phd, was living on the spectrum… but he was white, male… and spending more time with other people’s children than he did with his own kids…

#child abuse #spousal abuse #ran away #critical rage theory #blaming the victim #truly autistic

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mildkleptomaniac · 3 years

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brunch — jj maybank x kook!reader

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: “ Can you do a jj x reader? He's a waiter at the club and her family is there for brunch, her parents don't know about their relationship and are kinda rude to him. Reader's done with their attitude and deffends jj and reveals their relationship by accident and her parents get mad. Love all your fics, you're so talented! ”

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.6k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: just some angst and an outburst! rude parents

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: sorry this took forever to get out! school semester just started, along with a new job. and I’m finally in the process of feeling better. I’m posting this on mobile so sorry if they layout is weird, but I hope you enjoy!

Y/N sat at the table, her parents sitting across from her as they stared at the menu. According to her parents, the world ran around them. They didn’t seem to care that they would take more than enough time to order and then usher the waiter over whenever it would be convenient for them. They would manage to make brunch turn into dinner with the amount of time they would sit at the table and slowly pick at the bread for an appetizer while slowly sipping their mimosas.

Y/N enjoyed going out for meals, but never with her parents. Sometimes she felt like she had to babysit them, especially with how they treated employees. She always apologized whenever the waiter would catch a glance at Y/N and she would give them an apologetic smile. Not to mention the amount of times she would slip in a few extra bills for the tip. Her parents were harsh when it came to the working class, which she didn’t quite understand.

But today at the Kildare Country Club, Y/N’s boyfriend would be their waiter.

JJ Maybank.

Y/N’s secret Pogue boyfriend. He was the boy that her parents would fear for her to fall in love with because they knew all too well about his family and their history. Her parents would remind her of the “better” selection of boys to pick from, which either included Kelce or Topper. Luckily her parents never mentioned Rafe Cameron—it’s almost like they knew in their gut that he wasn’t the best candidate to date.

Y/N’s parents feared that Pogues will just use her to get further in life and that she’s just some doormat to her friends. But that wasn’t the case at all, if anything—Y/N was the glue to the friend group after she began dating JJ.

A few lies a week would keep her parents fooled, thinking she was spending her time studying or volunteering when in reality, she was relaxing at the Chateau or lounging on the HMS Pogue in JJ’s lap as they sipped on cheap beers.

“Good morning, folks. My name is JJ and I’ll be your waiter today. Can I start you off with anything to drink?” The blonde flashed his smile at the table, his eyes meeting Y/N’s. A comfort washed over the girl, his gaze always soothed any tension built in her body.

“Isn’t it Mimosa Sunday?” Her mother glanced upwards from the menu, voice flat.

“Yes, m’am. Bottomless Mimosas all Sunday.” JJ replied.

“Then get it started. Y/N would have a glass of water.” Her mother’s eyes flickered back to the menu. Y/N pursed her lips, shifting in her seat.

“What would you like to drink, miss?” JJ asked Y/N, ignoring her mother’s statement. Her eyes widened and she cleared her throat.

“I’ll take a sweet ice tea, please. With a side of water, please.” She made sure to emphasize the word ‘please’ around her parents. A term to slip their vocabulary whenever they were brought face to face with the working class.

“Y/N, don’t waste your calories on a drink.” Her mother shook her head.

“It’d be okay and I don’t want to talk about that right now in front of the waiter.” She remarked through her teeth, eyes looking back between her parents and her boyfriend.

“One sweet tea and bottomless Mimosas coming right up.” He jotted the order on his pad before turning on his heel. Y/N’s father cleared his throat and it caught JJ’s attention.

“Young man, we weren’t done ordering. We would like to place an order for an appetizer.”

Y/N could feel her shoulders ache from how pinched they were with tension. Her parents absolutely embarrassed her to no end with their lack of consideration or manners. She’s surprised they got this far in life by treating people like this. They were no different than any other person.

“We would like the Mini Herb Smoked Salmon Frittatas with Deviled Eggs.” Y/N’s father read off the menu.

“I’ll get that in as soon as possible, sir. And I’ll be right out with the drinks.” He smiled before walking away. He glanced back at his girlfriend and sent her a reassuring smile, trying to let her know that he was doing okay.

She knew her parents weren’t the worse to deal with, but they could be difficult.

“I’m surprised they allow a Maybank to work at this establishment. He probably steals all the soaps and colognes from the bathroom and sells them on the street.” Her father laughed, shaking his head.

“Oh honey, you’re probably right. His father is such a sleaze, I wouldn’t be surprised if he makes the boy bring home scraps from the dumpster!”

“I’m sorry, but what the hell is wrong with you both?” Y/N questioned, her eyebrows furrowed as she stared in distaste at her parent’s banter.

“Excuse me, young lady. Watch your language.” Her father reprimanded.

“Excuse me? Excuse you! You don’t even know JJ and you’re talking poorly about him. Obviously, he is working hard to make money. Bold of you to assume that he isn’t a hard worker—but he is. Do you not see him mowing lawns for the neighbors? Helping Hayward run groceries on the docks? If his family’s wealth is such an issue to you, why not help donate clothes and food to him?” Y/N’s outburst caught other tables' attention. She stood up in her spot, her hands clenching the table cloth.

“Y/N, you are causing a scene. You need to sit down right now or else you’re in major trouble.” Her mother’s voice was sharp.

JJ walked to the table, pretending to be oblivious to his girlfriend’s statements, which the whole restaurant practically heard her defending him. “Here are the Mimosas and the sweet tea. The starters will be out shortly. Can I get you anything else in the meantime?” He faked a smile.

“I don’t care if I’m causing a scene, because you’re causing a problem! You’re being rude for absolutely I reason towards JJ.” She remained standing and JJ stood there awkwardly, unsure of what the right move would be in this situation.

“Why do you care about this, Pogue? He has no meaning to our lives—he doesn’t benefit society, sweetheart.” Her father spoke in a softer tone.

“You’re unbelievable, dad! JJ Maybank is a human being who works to survive! He isn’t some scummy person and—in fact, he is my boyfriend! Mom, Dad, meet my boyfriend, JJ Maybank.” Y/N finally snapped and she gestured towards the blonde who stood there. He looked like a deer in headlights.

“Y/N, stop embarrassing the poor boy at work and yourself.” Her mother’s face grew red—she wasn’t sure if it was from anger or embarrassment herself.

“I’m not embarrassing myself, mom. This is my boyfriend. We’ve been dating for a few months now and this is where I’ve been. I’ve been dating a Pogue. You’re sweet, precious daughter is dating this Pogue. And he is actually fantastic and cares about me—more than you two ever do!” She threw her fabric napkin on the table before reaching into her purse. She pulled out a rather large dollar bill and stuffed it into JJ’s pocket. “Here is a tip that they won’t be giving you, babe. But I think you deserve it.” Y/N kissed his cheek before walking away from the table.

JJ cleared his throat and looked around the area, “would you like a different waiter, today?”

Y/N went inside the Country Club and paced around the entrance way. She ran a hand through her hair and she tried calming herself down. She had never had that much confidence to confront her parents like that, but she knew she would face the consequences when she would go home.

A hand clamped down on her shoulder and she turned around to face her boyfriend.

“JJ—I am so sorry all of that happened and—“ He interrupted her by cupping her cheeks and pulling her in for a kiss.

“You’re so hot when you’re mad and defending me.” He whispered against her lips. She let out a light laugh and they kissed once more. “You don’t need to apologize babe, what you did was awesome. Insane, but awesome.”

“My parents are going to kill me,” she laughed again. The reality setting in quickly.

“Then stay at the Chateau with me tonight. What’s gonna happen that’s not already? Plus, we can sleep together and I can have you tell everyone how you had a scene at brunch.” He teased, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair.

“That…that sounds nice.” She sighed, closing her eyes. JJ pressed a kiss to the temple of her head.

“I also put in your breakfast order if you wanna eat at the bar. I used the money you gave me for it.” He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. She looked at him gratefully.

“You’re the best, J. I love you,”

“Even if I’m a Pogue?”

“Most definitely if you’re a Pogue. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

taglist: @abbyg217 @taylathornton @lemur46 @urdadsapussy @webmeupspiderdaddy @rosarosse @5sos-fic-recs @littlethingsinmymind @pogueslandia @mrs-cameron @starduststarkey @jjshoeobx29872 @caswinchester2000 @starksvixen @mrs-talia-cameron @newtpsd @rottenstyx @professional-busboy @hallecarey1 @alwaysclassyeagle @cake2coke @siriusbutalsono @princessmaybank @wolfstar-lb @jorja-cameron @emeraldheartbreaker @nicavass

#jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #( jj maybank )#jj maybank x reader #outer banks imagine #obx imagines #jj maybank x kook!reader #kook!reader

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jade-parcels · 3 years

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👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕

The bunnies’ other jobs!

From my bunny cafe au

((I am so peeved :((( I had this all written out!! And I deleted it by accident!! Darnnnnn!!!))

Anon asked “You mentioned that some of the bunnies have day jobs so do they all have jobs outside the cafe or just a few?” (Something along these lines…again…I deleted it by accident 😔)

👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕

Diluc/‘Angel’

After his father got bored with the wine industry, he passed the whole company off to Diluc on his 18th birthday in order to shift his focus to mining. Diluc found himself swamped with all kinds of business decisions while just barely being an adult. He expanded the company and hired some very trustworthy people to handle things for him so he could finish college

When the business was given to him, Diluc and Kaeya had an explosive fight over it. Kaeya felt like he deserved to have some say in what happens to the business, he’s still a part of the family! But Diluc refused to let him in on any decisions so Kaeya packed his bags and left (not before cussing him out in front of their father, staff and business partners). He was just in a silly, goofy mood. They’re fine now, not on the best terms but they do chat and meet up for lunch on occasion.

He is filthy rich, he couldn’t spend all of his all of his money if he tried, so he doesn’t really need the job at the cafe! Kaeya got him the job because he knew his brother was stuck in a weird, antisocial funk and needed some fun in his life

Diluc loves this job, he has a great time, but it isn’t his main job. His priority will always be the family business!! If he has to quit his job at the cafe, he would in a heartbeat

👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕👯‍♂️💕

Kaeya

Kaeya was going to go into the police academy but was scouted out by a modeling agency. They had seen him at Ragnvindr company events and thought ‘well damn’ so they gave him a pretty generous deal

Kaeya makes a good living off of modeling, the tips and paycheck from the cafe. He rakes in cash pretty quickly just cause he knows how to get it. That, and his dad sends him checks every other month as well. Kaeya thinks of it as ‘I’m sorry’ money. He isn’t wrong

He doesn’t travel much for modeling, which he doesn’t mind, so he kinda just hangs around the city with a lot of free time on his hands between photo shoots. That’s why he got this job at the cafe! It gives him something to do and it’s fun as hell ;)

Albedo

Bedo is one busy bunny. He finished college early and is getting his masters degree online. He works most days at the cafe and on the weekends, he tutors other college students in bio/chem/science related subjects

(He was actually Xiao’s tutor back when he was failing chemistry!! Xiao is very thankful for Albedo’s help!!)

His dream is to become a biochemist, he’s always been interested in cells and what makes up living beings. So having a career in that field would make him the happiest man alive

His mother and sister live outside the city in a more rural area so he spends a lot of time FaceTiming the two of them! Klee is always so excited to hear about Albedo’s experiments or the people he’s met while working in such a bustling, fun city :)

Zhongli

Zhongli is a simple man! He’s a bunny waiter and an artist

He creates intricate pieces based on folklore from different cultures, focusing mostly on dragons. His favorite medium is paint, he loves painting on glass and layering the panes in order to create a 3D piece

He sells his works to galleries, shops and anyone who wants them! As long as they appreciate the story behind the artwork. Sadly…He undersells his work. He could def be making more money but he just does not desire money or material goods the way others may

So he got his job at the cafe in order to help out his dear friend Ningguang, not for money, he only planned on working there for a month or two until she got more bunnies but…he ended up really loving the people he works with :’) he looks forward to working with them now and texts/calls them outside of work to meet up for lunch or bowling (such an old man thing to do omfg)

Dainsleif/‘Sweetie’

Dain was a bouncer at another bar before leaving to come to Celestia’s! He’s good friends with Beidou, they belong to the same motorcycle club so when she was talking to him about the lack of security at the cafe/bar, he stepped in to help out

Little did he know…he’d actually become a bunny…And like it

This is his full time job now, he doesn’t have another for the time being. While he is a bunny at the cafe, he still keeps an eye out for any threats to his coworkers and has access to the offices upstairs (Ningguang’s office and the security office)

When he isn’t waiting tables, he’s upstairs in a tank top and sweatpants keeping an eye on the security cameras and talking to the other security guards through their ear pieces

Ajax

Ajax is a student who doesn’t really have much time on his hands

He mows lawns in the summer and he’s quit his job as a cashier to come work at the cafe! He mostly works night shifts his cause he’s still going to school aaaaaand he’s on his college’s swim team! He’s about to graduate so he works close with his coach to help train the others on the team

He doesn’t really want his family knowing that he skips around in a skimpy bunny outfit and fucking customers most nights but I mean…They’re bound to find out if they see him in pictures people post

Xiao/‘Tofu’

Xiao is an art student!! He wants to be a tattoo artist :)

He’s already got one sleeve of tattoos, it’s unfinished but you can’t really tell just by looking. When he isn’t at the cafe, he’s either in class or shadowing Ganyu, his best friend and tattoo artist. Their art styles greatly differ, she focuses her craft on cutesy, colored tattoos, but she is skilled. And Xiao looks up to her

Xiao admires Zhongli too, they met at the cafe and when Zhongli found out Xiao wants to be a tattoo artist he told him that once he’s licensed, he wants to get a tattoo from him :’)

Baizhu/‘Honey’

Baizhu is a (mostly) full time pharmacist, hence why he isn’t usually at the cafe

He also has a niece, Qiqi, who he babysits often. He loves her very much so he has no problem watching her! Baizhu will even bring her to the pharmacy with him when he’s swamped with work. In the break room, he has a play kitchen, coloring books and a bunch of puzzles to keep Qiqi occupied while he works :)

When he’s not at work, he’s at home resting. He has chronic pain flare ups in his back and shoulders that can make life miserable :( he has plenty of good days that outweigh the bad! And as a pharmacist, he has access to any medicine he needs to make his life easier!

Dottore(Alain)/‘Doc’

Alain’s an oral surgeon who’s a little bit….too into his job

He isn’t phased by blood or gore so he’s easily able to conduct procedures that would make other squeamish. He’ll pull teeth, put in dental implants, remove rotten tissue, any of that without even flinching

Outside of that, he works at the cafe. He wears a mask in order to avoid being recognized even though at his job as a surgeon, he’s usually wearing a medical mask anyways. It’s just a precaution

This has nothing to do with his career but he used to be a tap dancer and actor so he’d join in on local theatre shows! He helped build sets when he wasn’t rehearsing. He doesn’t have time for that anymore (which kinda makes him sadddd) but he has all kinds of theatre playlists on his phone and in his car that he’ll sing along to

Scaramouche/‘Boss’

Scara’s job at the cafe is his main job! His side job is something you may not expect from such a grump

He works at an animal shelter! In fact, he brings cats home to train so they have an increased chance of being adopted. Someone is more likely to adopt a potty trained, socialized cat than a feral cat who doesn’t know what a litter box is. So Scara brings them to his apartment for some one-on-one socializing, training and cuddling

One time he offhandedly mentioned working at an animal shelter while he was working at the cafe and sure enough, three separate customers from the cafe came by to adopt!!! Only one actually took an animal home but he was still surprised that those people had listened to him and cared enough to come by

Scara is a jerk most of the time but when he’s at home…by himself…With a lil kitten sleeping in his lap while he plays games on his PC…Yeah, he softens up a bit

So as you can see, we have a very diverse group working at the cafe! They’ve all learned a lot from each other, come to appreciate each other’s friendship and come to help each other out when one of their coworkers is in need or upset.

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axwalker · 3 years

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Creep 2: I don’t care if it hurts

HIGH SCHOOL AU

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Lexie O’Brien) Book TRR

MASTERLIST HERE

Synopsis: Drake and Lexie are star-crossed lovers. Her father hates him and forces Lexie to stop any contact with Drake. Lost and heartbroken, he “bullies” her for two years until he discovers the truth of Lexie’s behavior.

A/N 1 This came up to me after I got an ask from @nestledonthaveone to write a fic based on the song CREEP.

I used to hear this song when I was a teenager, so when I read this ask, I immediately wanted to write something angsty but situated in high school.

A/N 2: Because they’re younger than usual, I decided to change my FC.

Words: 4,110

WARNINGS: Parental abuse, domestic violence, toxic love.

THIS IS NOT YOUR USUAL MARSHMALLOW DRAKE. He was abandoned as a boy, he’s tortured and he doesn’t know how to express his love. His behavior is not excusable.

This is a dark love story. If you’re not comfortable with it, PLEASE do not read it.

ALL MY FICS ARE 18+

TAGS ON THE COMMENTS

As this is darker than usual; I’m only tagging the people who commented in the previous chapter. If you want to get on or off the list for this fic, please do not hesitate to ask!!

DRAKE

Even if she never looks at me or speaks to me again, she’s mine. Even if I’ve been a horrible jerk to her for two years and she pales every time I pull into the parking lot on my motorcycle, she is mine. Just seeing her with him enrages me, so I walk straight toward my usual seat, directly behind Lexie, and slam my textbook down onto the desk.

Startled, Rys looks up at me, “Hey, Walker. What’s up?”

It’s not the first time he tries to make a move on Lexie. Last time –two years ago, we almost killed each other. Pretty boy might be an entitled ass, but he knows how to fight. Maybe he thinks Lexie is game again after all this time. He couldn’t be more wrong.

“Don’t you have a class this period?” I ask him. Liam cocks his left eyebrow, adjusting the straps of his backpack.

“I fail to see why that concerns you, Creep.”

My smile is murderous. “Get the fuck out of here before I break your face, pretty boy.”

I think he has a death wish because he looks at Lexie when he talks, “See you after class, Alexis, when your watchdog will be busy mowing my lawn.” Finally, he just shakes his head and gets out of the classroom. I resume my daily routine. Staring at the back of Lexie’s head, tracing the curve of her perfect neck, my cock getting hard over her perfect cherry scent.

“So that’s what you like,” I say, leaning forward to speak an inch from her ears. “You like them with blond hair and pink polo shirts. Prospects for Cambridge or shit. A huge trust fund. Don’t you? A brat like you needs someone who can spoil her. I bet you’d introduce him to daddy, wouldn’t you?”

She doesn’t respond. She never does. Her eyes stay stubbornly on the front of the class where the teacher has started writing today’s lesson on the board—my hands fist in desperation. I’m dying for her to talk to me. To look at me. Anything. “Too bad, Lexie. I’ll scare every single one of those fucking entitled boys off. You’re going to sit alone in your house on prom night, crying into your designer sheets like a baby. And I’m going to enjoy it.”

The only sign that she hears me at all is the quickening rise and fall of her shoulders. Even that tiny display that I’ve upset her is agonizing, floods me with self-loathing, but I can never stop. She ripped out my fucking heart, and I can’t deal with the consequences of that alone. I can’t let her go. I’ll never let her go. This toxic feeling is the only thing left between us. My hands shake with the urge to take her in my arms, to stop the trembling I caused. To protect her from everything. Even myself. I’d love to move my fingers up into the silky, brown hair that reaches the middle of her graceful neck. I don’t have a lot of money; most of the cash I earn as a handyman goes to food and fixing my dad’s cabin, but I’d give every last cent for her to turn and lock those soft brown eyes on me, just one last time. Sometimes when I jerk off, all it takes is fantasizing about Lexie looking at me, giving me one of those shy smiles, and I lose it. One stroke. Maybe two. Done. I can’t breathe without having her close. And I can’t breathe with her close. It’s a strange condition, this obsession, but she’s an addiction that I just can’t give up.

How could I? She’s intelligent, strong, and so damned gorgeous. Once upon a time, I thought she had a good heart too. But that was before she broke my pathetic heart only because I’m poor. I’ve been hurting since then, and I need her to hurt too. To know what it feels.

“Do you actually think that dumb rich boy would be a good choice for your first time, Lexie?” I grip my desk so tight it nearly breaks down, just thinking about her being kissed –touched by someone else. “At least that’s one thing us poor motherfuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck. If you went out with Rys for a while, you’d eventually give in and come slumming it one night, wouldn’t you? Knock on my rundown cabin door, begging me to fuck you as we both know you’d like.”

A pretty blush is starting to climb her neck. I have to take a deep breath to keep from kiss her pink cheeks. But I think if I got to touch her skin, my wall of bullshit would crumble. I’ve only fucked one girl. Since seeing Lexie for the first time freshman year, there’s been no one but her. I want no one else. She owns my cock as sure as she owns my heart. How easily she’s forgotten about both leaving me in agony.

“Stop,” she breathes. I freeze. Did she just speak to me? It’s the first time in two years that she’s even remotely acknowledged my existence.

“Lexie,” I managed to say. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. That’s all it took. One pleading word out of her mouth, and I’m done.

“Just stop,” she says again, turning her head slightly. “Please.”

I fall back in my chair, my heart thundering on my chest. If we weren’t in the middle of class, if I didn’t feel like a monster, I would pull her into my arms right now. I’d hug her until she stopped struggling, then beg her to hit me, bruise me, make me pay for every shitty thing I’ve ever said to her. But before long, the class is over, and she’s leaving the classroom to get out of here. To put distance between us as quickly as possible—and I have no choice but to watch her because I feel physically ill. Still, I manage to get out into the student-packed hallway, my plan to apologize for being crude and a jerk and torturing her for so long.

My head is telling me not to apologize, though. It’s telling me she deserved it for being such a snob, for breaking me, for valuing money and status like everyone else. My damned heart is telling an entirely different story. It’s insisting there is an explanation for her behavior. Am I going to apologize or not? The decision is taken out of my hands when Lexie opens her locker, and the little gift I left before class falls down. It’s a picture I cut out from our last yearbook. In the photo is a gorgeous smiling Lexie above the caption Most Likely to Succeed. Except I’ve crossed out the caption and added my own. Most Likely to Be a Trophy Wife. Watching her read it, I almost get sick right there in the hallway. Usually, she’s perfectly composed, not betraying a trace of emotion where I’m concerned—a real Ice queen. I’ve always thought she honestly didn’t care. Today, though… she’s not pulling it off. Something is not okay with her, and I don’t like it. She has to bite down on her bottom lip to stop it from quivering as she puts the photo back into her locker, out of sight, her bright eyes finding me briefly, massacring me where I stand. Betraying with one single look how much she has been affected by my actions. Christ. She hasn’t been indifferent at all.

Before I can react, before I can call her name, she’s gone, vanished into the crowd of wild students excited to be leaving for the day. And I know what I have to do. I have to see her. To apologize. To get an explanation for everything. Tonight. I’ll return to her house for the first time in two years.

LEXIE

I’ve known this was coming all day. Sitting on the couch in my living room, trying to make myself as small as possible, I watch my father pace. He rants, gesticulating noisily. This isn’t new, my father’s rage threatening me. But it’s going to be worse than usual. Business has declined for him and it’s put his temper on a trigger. Dad’s new wife, Nancy, hates to be on a budget, and she’s been spending his money like crazy all over Paris --where she’s now. When dad gets home from the office, he’s rarely in anything but a horrible mood. A tornado eating up everything in its path. Completely terrifying. At least dad’s temper makes me forget what Drake told me today, the ugly words he said to me, the boiling anger in his eyes when he looks at me.

“Are you even listening?” The slap across the face comes as a shock because I’d momentarily disappeared into my thoughts, but the sting quickly brings me back to reality.

“Yes, sir,” I say, my ears ringing. “I’m listening.”

“This C on your algebra test is going to drag your whole average down.” He’s waving the test in my face. “What a disappointment you are, Alexis. Your teacher shared my disgust.” I nod solemnly, but I’m listening for the rain outside. “I guess you’re your daughter’s mother after all. A poor Mexican girl who could barely count.” It’s not true. My mom learned English and Greek by herself, and she was a great Spanish teacher in Portavira, but my father would rather die than acknowledge how smart she was.

“Don’t talk like that about her,” I retort.

My father snorts. “I beg your pardon?” He takes a step towards me, and I can see the threat in his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” I hate to be such a coward, but I know what he can do to me.” I’ll do extra credit. Something to bring my grade back up to an A.” I wet my lips. “Even if I can’t manage to raise the grade, it’s not going to show up on the college transcripts I sent off with my applications.” That’s the reason I let my focus slip a little in algebra. The finish line is in sight for everyone, and we’re just waiting to find out where we’ll be accepted for college. It’s a wonder I’ve been able to maintain my focus this long in any class, considering Walker sits behind me in every period, brooding making me feel … something. At the reminder of him, I want to close my eyes and dream about him. I replay that night in my garden when he kissed me two years ago, so tenderly and passionately, when he spoke to me so sweetly and honestly before he became the second villain in my story. Someone I dread, as much as I crave the sight of him.

At least that’s one thing us poor motherfuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck. If you went out with that punk for a while, you’d eventually give in and come slumming it one night, wouldn’t you? Knock on my trailer door, begging me to ride you right.

Should I be ashamed of the way my body reacted to those words? I grew uncomfortably damp in the hard plastic chair, the center of my body clenching, seeming to beat like a heart. His breath on my neck made me shiver, head to toe. Even the way he scared off Liam Rys did something to me. Aroused me. Deeply. It got so bad that I broke the rules and asked him to stop. I can still hear him saying my name in that tortured way after. That shocked, uneven sound. Lexie. And whether I’m ashamed of myself for it or not, I know I’ll think of it when I touch myself tonight. His voice, his hands, his eyes obsess me.

“College?” My father snorts, tearing the test in half. “You’re not going to college.”

This grabs my attention. A horrible feeling is making me cold. “I’m…what? What do you mean? I applied to nine different schools. I have a four-point five GPA.”

For the first time, I notice his red face is about more than just rage. There’s…humiliation. I’ve never seen him display that emotion.

“None of the American colleges that accepted you offered scholarships.”

“I’ve been accepted?” I gasp, sitting forward, heart pounding in my chest. “Where? I didn’t see the letters—”

“All the mail in this house goes through me, Alexis. I read them. And you failed to get academic scholarships. You failed. Not that I’m surprised.”

I don’t point out that his refusal to let me participate in any extracurricular activities is more than likely to blame for that. I’m too worried about what he’s saying, what this means. The blood is draining from my head, making the room spin around me.

“Okay, I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry. But…we have money. We can pay tuition, can’t we? Or colleges in Cordonia are almost for free. I can go to any of them; I don’t have to go to NYU.” I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here. This is my way out. College is the escape route. I counted on going back to New York, but I can stay here and go to college in Cordonia City.

“Listen to you, so quick to spend my hard-earned money—spoiled brat. And of course, you can’t go to college in Cordonia. What for? To end up being a schoolteacher like your mom? A housewife as Nancy?” He laughs bitterly. “No, you’ll stay here, and I’ll help you find someone suitable to marry.”

I shake my head. “There’s financial aid, then. Loans or I can get a job and go to college in Portavira…”

“You want to leave, just like her, don’t you? You’re all the same.”

I don’t even flinch when he yanks me to my feet, shoving me into the wall. In fact, for the first time, I took him right into his eyes. And I can see the violence burning on them has nothing to do with me. It never had anything to do with how I behave, my choices, how hard I worked in school. How welcome I made Nancy feel or cooked a roast. It’s about him and his self-loathing. It’s his sickness. Not mine. I can also see that he was never going to send me to college. Because he wouldn’t be able to control me from a distance or stop me from sharing what I’ve been subjected to since my mother died. Not like he does now. He wasn’t physically abusive all the time. Especially not when his new wife is around. But she traveled often, and then he’d push me. Shove me. Slapped me several times. I’ll graduate at the top of my class for nothing. He knew I would all along.

That’s when I realize I’m free. I don’t have money, but college is free in Cordonia. I can work, save a little and go to college in one or two years. I’ll be a writer; it’ll just take more time than I thought. “Go to hell,” I whisper.

He steps back, giving me the momentary satisfaction of his shock. “What did you say?”

Liberated, I scream it this time. “Go to hell!” From the moment I sat down to have this conversation, I knew tonight would be worse than usual, but I’ve just bought myself a ticket to hell. Usually, I can retreat to the untouchable place inside of me as he unleashes his rage, but not tonight. He doesn’t stop at one or two slaps. He punches and kicks, and I’m present for every punch and kick. Every yelled insult. Finally, I start to get scared. I’m crawling across the carpet on my hands and knees, searching for a weapon I can use in my defense when I glance out the window and see Drake staring back at me, his face a mask of horror.

Drake

What I’m seeing just isn’t possible. It can’t be real. My head won’t accept it. Not until her terror-filled eyes meet mine through the window and the truth pounds on my chest, leaves no doubt that this is real life. Lexie’s father is beating her. Her mouth is bloody, one of her eyes beginning to swell, arms and legs visibly weakened. I can barely fucking process it before my body is springing into action, desperate to protect her. To put a stop to the worst thing I have ever seen. What the fuck. Scorching hot rage takes over. I kick in the front door and throw myself between Lexie and her father. His fist is raised, but it pauses when he sees me, his momentary confusion giving me the time I need to knock him out cold. It only takes one right uppercut from someone his own size, and he goes down, his blank, glassy eyes staring at nothing, mouth opened. It’s not satisfying enough.

Nothing will ever be satisfying enough. I want to kill him, destroy him, but my Lexie is struggling for breath behind me, and she’s all I can think about. Turning, I approach her, my heart threatening to jump off my chest. As gently as I can, I catalog all of the cuts and purpling skin. No. No. Who could do this to her? Who could lay a finger on her in anything but reverence? Get her out of here. Calling her name, I reach down to pick her up, but she flinches and hurries back, bringing her body up against the wall.

“Don’t touch me!” Those words filled with fear rip the soul clean out of my body. My hands drop limply to my sides and two years come rushing back, hitting me in the chest like a hammer. Every word, every action. Everything I did to make her life harder when this is what she’s been dealing with at home? Fuck me.

“Lexie…” My voice is as kind as I can. I feel broken. “I’m sorry. I came here to apologize. For everything.”

She puffs a humorless laugh, testing her cut lip with the tip of her tongue. “Bet you weren’t expecting to see this.”

“If I knew this was happening, I would have been here a long time ago. I would have stopped it. I swear Lex.”

Her expression can only be described as stunned. Maybe even a little pissed. “You are not my savior, Drake. You are my enemy. You’ve been for two years, and I want nothing else from you now.”

“I am not your enemy.” Those words barely make it out of me, my chest hurts so fucking bad. “Don’t say that.”

Unsteadily, she uses the wall to try and stand. I try to help her, but she recoils, and it’s a dagger straight into the center of my throat. Nothing less than I deserve, though, isn’t it? Her distrust of me is entirely my fault. I’ve made her hate me. There has to be some way to fix what I’ve done. Please God, let there be away. But right now, my main concern is her physical safety. Knowing she’s been in danger all along is unbearable. I only decided to come here tonight a few hours ago. What if I didn’t? What if I arrived an hour later? The possibilities are going to haunt me for the rest of my life. From the floor, her father groans, shifting slightly.

“We need to get you out of here,” I say, anxious to get her free of this place. “Now, Lexie. I need to get you somewhere safe.”

She’s standing now. Leaning against the wall and cradling one arm to her stomach, regarding me warily. “How do I know I’m safe with you?” It’s so much worse that her question is honest. Not meant to hurt me. She honestly doesn’t know if I pose a threat. It guts me where I stand.

“You are the safest with me,” I say thickly, cursing myself. Wanting to erase the last two years so badly, my hands shake. “Please believe me. I’d die before hurting you. I’d never, Lexie. I’d never do something like that.”

Her father rolls over onto his back and slurs a few words before losing consciousness again. Still, the sound of the older man’s voice seems to scare Lexie, “I…maybe you can just give me a ride to…a motel maybe?” She pushes off the wall, her step uneven as she walks toward the stairs. “I need some things from my room.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her we don’t have time, but I’m just grateful she’s trusting me enough to leave with me, so I don’t argue. I just wait until she’s halfway up the stairs, then tie her father’s hands behind his back with my belt in case he wakes up before we leave. I have no problem knocking him out a second time, but Lexie has seen enough violence for one night. Cautiously, I walk up the stairs toward the light coming from a room halfway down the hall. This place is a far cry from my home. It’s elegant and clean, and tasteful, but it lacks any warmth whatsoever. It’s cold, like a museum. Turning the corner into Lexie’s room, it’s time to hate myself all over again. There is nothing on the walls, none of the expensive furnishings. Just four white walls, a bed, and a dresser that doubles as a desk. Several textbooks. She looks back at me over her shoulder as if judging my reaction, and I keep my features impassive, though I’m dying on the inside.

“What can I do?” I ask.

“How long do we have?”

“As long as you need.” It’s physically painful not to pull her into my arms when I’m standing this close, and she’s hurt. Sad. Yet full of more inner strength than I’ve ever witnessed in another human being. I’m lucky just to be in her presence. I fucked up royally. And if she allows me back in, I’ll never do it again. It’s probably, definitely, too much to hope for. Being allowed back in. She doesn’t even look sure about having me in her room. Let alone her heart. I was trying to protect my own heart, but I lost it instead.

“Um…” She closes her eyes to focus, a familiar trait I’ve seen in class countless times. “There is a black bag in the hallway closet. Can you just stuff anything into it from the bathroom that looks useful?”

Ask me to bring you a unicorn. I’ll find a way to do it. “Sure.” We work in silence, Lexie taking things out of drawers and adding them to the bag, which I’ve left open on the floor. I add toiletries from the bathroom, and once it’s zipped, I wait, watching her hesitate in the doorway.

“Lexie?” Conflicted chocolate eyes meet mine.

“I can’t just leave, can I?”

“You’re not safe here, baby,” I say softly, trying to keep the residual rage at bay because it’s the last thing she needs. Not to mention she’s had her fill with negativity from me. No more. “How long…how long?”

She shrugs, the saddest expression in her eyes. “My mom died five years ago. Ever since then, it’s gotten worse and worse. Although I never had a chance to talk to anyone about what happened behind closed doors, you know? I don’t think a person can evolve into a monster. It’s inside him.”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I became one, didn’t I?”

That gives her pause, forms a line between her delicate brows. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

She starts to walk past me, stops, standing close enough to fill my nose with cherry. “He told me if I ever spoke to you ever again, he would hurt me. Ruin you, have you evicted. Make sure you never got hired again. I didn’t mean to…hurt you. Or hurt your feelings, if that’s what happened.”

That revelation destroys me, sets me on fire. “Jesus, Lexie. You were protecting me? And I…I tortured you for it?” I twist the neck of my T-shirt, trying to calm down, but it doesn’t work. I’ll never be calm again “I’m so fucking sorry.”

She glances at the doorway, then back at me, eyes closed again in that way that says she’s thinking. “All I want from you now is a ride out of here, okay? And on Monday morning, you’ll stop.” She opens her shining eyes again. “No more bullying, Drake. If you’re really sorry, you’ll do that for me.”

Fuck. I couldn’t say one more single shitty thing to her if my life depended on it. Put me at gunpoint, and I’d rather get shot at than torture this girl for one more second. But I’m highly, painfully aware that with an end to the bullying comes an end to the possessiveness. No more scaring off guys who show interest in her. No more getting close enough in class to count the hairs on her head, to smell her sweet fragrance. And to tell the truth, I’m pretty fucking worried I don’t know how to give those things up completely. I don’t think I can physically do it. This addiction with Lexie isn’t something I can cut off. A leg would be easier to sever. But my hesitation is causing her eyes to worry. If I don’t agree to, essentially, let her go… she’s not going anywhere with me. And that means her safety won’t be guaranteed. I need it to be. More than anything.

“No more bullying,” I say, finally. A moment later, I follow her out of the room and down the stairs, trying desperately to count the hairs on her head before I no longer have the chance.

#tw domestic violence #toxic relationship #tw bullying

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outerbankspreferences · 3 years

Text

Love Story - JJ Maybank

Request: Anonymous said:A jj imagine where the reader and him are secretly dating cause she’s a kook but she has a “fake” (rafe doesn’t think it’s fake and wants it to be real) relationship with rafe because their parents made them date for the family buisness or whatever and rafe catches them meeting up one night or something and he tells her parents and they go and get her and she fights to be with him??? (Sorry Ik it’s super long lol)

MASTERLIST

WORD COUNT: 6485

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long to post, but I’ve been going through some stuff and working, but I hope you enjoy this, Plus this is the longest fic I’ve ever written.

We were both young when I first saw you I close my eyes and the flashback starts I'm standin' there On a balcony in summer air See the lights, see the party, the ball gowns See you make your way through the crowd And say, "Hello" Little did I know

You were stuck at another Kook event hosted by the country club your parents attend. Your parents were one of the wealthier families in the Outer banks. Your father was the district attorney, and your mother was an accomplished writer. You always hated the flashy money lifestyle they lived, finding it completely fake. The only other family that came closer to yours were the Cameron’s’. Ward and Rose Cameron had plenty of businesses and investments which helped them claim high status on the Figure Eight.

It’s didn’t surprise anyone how close the two families were. You and Sarah were close friends considering you were the same age. You and Sarah bonded over many shopping trips and getaways. You weren’t as close with her other siblings, finding Wheezie annoying and Rafe stuck up. You thought maybe Rafe would grow out of things as he got older, but he grew into a nasty personality that your parents were oblivious to.

It had been your father and Ward’s idea to set the two of you up. Ward was trying to sneak his way into your lives, thinking the DA wouldn’t be a bad friend to have when he needed something done. Your father thought Rafe was a “wonderful young gentleman with plenty to offer.” You didn’t think anything of it when it would just be your parents and the two of you until you found out from Sarah that she wasn’t invited because of this arrangement.

You were happy to carry on the façade if it helped your parents. What could it hurt? A few supper dates and showing up to events together. At least you wouldn’t have suffer through dumb Kook things alone. Soon enough you and Rafe started to hang out even when you didn’t have to. You liked seeing this side of Rafe, a more vulnerable side. He was carefree and silly when he was with you. Rafe had found himself falling for you and all your quirks. He had been feeling a lot of pressure from his father about taking over the business, and you seemed to ease some of the pressure from him.

You thought he was an okay person before he started doing drugs. You were fine with smoking weed considering you smoked yourself. You were even okay with the partying and drinking, but when you found out he was snorting coke, it went too far for you. You had talked to him about and he would always brush it off as being too stressed and it helped him. He would always get upset when you talked about, so you tried to avoid the subject.

Soon enough the drugs took over his life and he started to sell them. The people he hung out with scared you, so you kept your distance. It was rolling around to Midsummers and you were nervous of going with Rafe. He seemed to be snapping at you more and more lately and you weren’t looking forward to seeing him.

You and Sarah had gone to the mainland one day to go dress shopping and have lunch. You guys were wondering around the store when she started going on about some boy she had met. “I don’t know Y/N, he’s so great but things are so complicated.” Sarah spoke, but you didn’t understand. The last time you checked she was seeing Topper, and things were going great. “Wait are we talking about Topper? What can be complicated there, he’s a nice guy.” You questioned. “What if I’m not talking about Topper?” She trailed off, trying to gage your reaction. “I don’t know you guys were having troubles, but if he doesn’t make you happy then you should probably move on before it gets too serious.” You skimmed through some more dresses, grabbing a green one you liked. “Wait, if you’re not seeing Topper then, who is it?” You looked over at her.

“You promise not to tell anyone?” She asked almost whispering like the other people in the store might be listening. You nodded encouraging her to tell you. “John B.” She whispered. “John B. that works on your dads bought John B.? Oh-Rose is going to so pissed.” You laughed to yourself. “Yeah, we had some weird encounter the other day after the Boneyard party.” “You mean the party that he fought Topper, and that JJ Maybank almost shot him?” You recounted the last party you guys went too; things had gotten out hand quickly. “You know how things went down Y/N, Topper almost killed John B.” She reminded you. “Well, if he makes you happy then I say go for it. I’ll support you. I mean, he’s friends are pretty hot.” You giggled thinking about how attractive you found JJ.

You never tried to pursue anything with JJ because everyone knew he didn’t go for Kooks, or actual relationships. It was more of a “one and done” kind of scenario with him, and you knew that’s not what you wanted. It didn’t stop you from checking him out from your bedroom window when he came to mow your lawn once a week.

The night of midsummers had finally rolled around, and you were getting everything ready. You had your hair appointment earlier in the day and now you were getting the finishing touches of your makeup down and giggling with Sarah. “Are you guys almost done?” Rose had come in seeming inpatient. This year the Cameron’s were getting honored for all the hard work Ward had down for the community and you had to walk in with them. “Uh yeah we’re almost done, just finishing up.” You spoke up. Rose let out a huff and told you guys to be downstairs in five minutes. “Oh god, I think that crowns gone to her head.” Sarah spoke up making you laugh out loud. “What’s so funny in here?” Rafe came in texting on his phone. He was wearing a baby blue suit and you had on a simple off-white gown. When Rafe looked at you his jaw dropped. He had been to plenty events with you, but you had never gotten this dressed up. He thought looked stunning in your dress. “Holy shit Y/L/N, you look amazing” he spoke causing you to blush. Rose called up to you guys again pulling you from you trance. You and Sarah got up and headed downstairs and Rafe said he needed to get something from his room.

You guys were downstairs taking pictures with your family when you father asked where Rafe was. “I’m right here” Rafe spoke coming around the corner. You could see a bit of white powder on his suit and you knew exactly what he went to do. You rushed up and brushed the bit of powder away before anyone could tell and he let out a silent thank you. Once you got the pictures done, everyone got ready to leave, but you pulled Rafe aside for a second.

“No funny business, promise?” You asked looking into his eyes, but all you could see were blown pulps and him rolling them. “When do I ever cause problems?” He countered obviously annoyed. “I’m not saying that Rafe, I’m just saying that I don’t want anything to happen like last time.” You explained. He moved out of your grip and headed for the door. “As long as those Pouges don’t cause any problems then we have nothing to worry about.”

You practically avoided Rafe like the plague the rest of the night. You and Sarah had dance for awhile before you were interrupted by JJ Maybank, “this is from Vlad.” He shouted over the music before moving to scoop you up in his arms spinning you around as he handed something to Sarah. You looked at her confused, but she was smiling like an idiot. You gave JJ a weird look, “young love, makes people do crazy things.” He spoke still dancing with you.

You got a good look at his face; it had a few scars and a small black eye. You pretended not to notice, even though you knew it was from the movie night last week. Rafe had come home with the similar marks.

That you were Romeo, you were throwin' pebbles And my daddy said, "Stay away from Juliet" And I was cryin' on the staircase Beggin' you, "Please don't go, " and I said

Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone I'll be waiting, all there's left to do is run You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"

“Where’s your plus one princess?” JJ asked pulling you a little closer to him. You couldn’t help but blush at the nickname. “He’s somewhere”- “I’m right here Maybank, and I’m pretty sure you’re dancing with my girl.” Rafe stepped in, “do you mind getting me another drink, you’re working here right?” He said in nasty tone. “Well, I would you see, but I’m super busy,” JJ spoke trying to get away from the death grip Rafe had on the collar of his shirt. “Rafe, stop please, you promised.” You cut in, not wanting to cause a scene. Rafe let go of JJ and grabbed you by the arm pulling you away. You sent an apologetic look to JJ before leaving with Rafe.

Rafe had pulled you all through the venue before he got to the balcony on the second floor. “What the hell Y/N? Do you know how that looks to everyone when you defend some low life over me?” He yelled at you. You had never seen Rafe this angry with you before. “Why does it even matter, it’s not like we’re actually dating. We’re doing this to help our parents out.” You raised your voice at him. “These people don’t know that,” he gestured to everyone downstairs. “they think we’re together, but know they think you’re with that scumbag.” “Shut up Rafe, you don’t know anything about him.” You hollered at him. He had no right to say those things about JJ.

What you didn’t know was that JJ was watching from the party. He knew what Rafe was like when he was angry. He wanted to go after you when Rafe drug you away, but he also didn’t want to cause any drama towards you. He watched the two of you go up the balcony. When he saw Rafe getting in your face he headed towards the balcony to make sure you were okay.

When he got up there, he could tell you were crying, and he could still hear Rafe yelling at you. “Is everything okay Y/N?” He asked walking towards you and Rafe shook his head, “everything is fine pouge, mind your own damn business.” JJ ignored what Rafe was saying, walking towards you, “do you want to come downstairs Y/N?” he asked softly, trying to calm you down. “Look, I said we’re fine, she’s fine”- “oh yeah, most girls are fine when they’re crying like that.” JJ cut Rafe off, and you finally spoke up. “I want to go home, JJ can you please take me home.” You asked him, not looking at Rafe. “Y/N don’t be dramatic. I can take you home, we came here together.” Rafe reasoned with you, but you didn’t want to be anywhere near him.

JJ led you out of the venue and towards the door when Kelce and Topper stopped him. “Oh shit.” He mumbled under his breath, but you heard. You grabbed his hand, silently telling him you were scared, and he tucked you behind him. “Hey there Maybank, where do you think you’re going?” Kelce asked, looking down at you. “Great choice of company Y/N, hanging with trash like yourself.” He snickered, and JJ pushed him back, “what the hell did you just say about her.” He questioned and Topper pushed JJ. You saw security make there way over with your father and Rafe.

Once you left with JJ, Rafe had gone to find your father, and update him on the “bad influences” you had been hanging out with. Of course, to your father Rafe was once again the hero, even though he had been making you cry not only ten minutes earlier.

You pulled on JJ’s sleave, “J please, can we go.” You pleaded not wanting to have this fight out in the open. Before you and JJ had the chance to make a quick getaway you father grabbed you by the arm. “Y/N what are you doing?” He asked in a hush tone pulling you away from JJ before security escorted him out. You looked back at sent JJ and apologetic look and he just winked at you.

Your father took you home after that and you got the third degree from both he and your mom. “He’s a pouge Y/N/N, you deserve so much more.” You mother said, she wasn’t nearly as upset as your father. “I thought things were going well between you and Rafe, you guys seemed to get along so well.” She questioned. “How do you know what he’s like, you’ve never met him. I was just trying to help him get out before Rafe and his goon squad could cause a bigger scene.” You informed them. “Oh please, had Rafe not come got me, that Maybank’ kid would have started a fight with those boys. I’ve heard the stories Y/N, and I’ve talked to Deputy Shoupe. He’s told me all about his father’s business.”

Your father was being harsh. You didn’t know much about JJ, but everyone on this island knew about his hot temper. “I don’t want to catch you around that boy again. Do you understand me?” He asked, “yes, I understand you.” You responded trying to put the conversation to rest.

You stuck to your word, but it really wasn’t that hard. You guys lived on opposite sides of the island and never ran into each other. You had only seen him once at the Wreck and you were too nervous to go talk to him, plus he was just leaving with his friends. You spent a lot of nights thinking about him. You don’t know why he stuck up for you with Rafe that night, but you were glad he had.

The next time you saw JJ alone was at the beach. You had gone out early in the morning to paint the sunrise. There was a quiet spot on the beach that no one knew of. It was off the beaten path and was always so calm. Art was your way to escape everything and just be in the moment. When you got there, you noticed someone was already there surfing. You couldn’t tell from the shore who it was, but you decided to stay anyways.

You got yourself all settled and started to sketch the outlines, including the surfer. You had your music playing softly in the background just enjoying being in the moment. You must have zoned out because once you looked back up you noticed the person surfing was coming from the water. You were shocked to recognize JJ’s signature blonde shaggy hair. ‘Of course, it had to be him’ you thought to yourself. You hoped he wouldn’t recognize you, considering the last time he saw you; you were all dressed up for midsummers.

You went back to your painting, trying to look busy but that didn’t stop him from coming up to you. “Y/N?” He asked even though he knew it was you. “Oh, hi JJ, how are you?” You asked looking up at him. The sun was making a halo around him, and he looked gorgeous. “I’m good, what are you doing out here so early?” He asked, JJ thought he was the only one who knew of this place. “Uh, I’m just trying to get some sketches done. The sun always hits the marsh so nice out here in the morning.” You explained as he dropped his surf bored to sit next to you.

You moved over so he would have space on the blanket, and he helped himself to some of the fruit your brought with you. “I never think to bring snacks, you have anything else to eat?” He asked, “yeah I have some yogurt and granola in the backpack.” You told him and rummaged through to find it. You didn’t mind him eating it, you weren’t hungry anyways.

JJ was grateful that you let him eat your food. John B was away and the meant he couldn’t go over there and get food. He had eaten at the Wreck a couple of times, but he could only live off leftover fish and chips for so long. He basically inhaled the yogurt, finally getting a good look at what you were painting. It was the marsh, with him surfing. He didn’t know you were that talented. You guys made small talk while you finished the picture. JJ couldn’t understand why he wanted to be around you, maybe it was the calming effect you had on him.

Of course, he had seen you around the island before, but he never paid much attention. You were a Kook and by island rules, you were off limits. He knew that at midsummers, but he couldn’t help but step in when Rafe was treated you poorly. “I hope I didn’t get you in trouble at Midsummers.” He spoke up. You hadn’t expected him to bring the conversation up. “Oh, don’t apologize. If anything, I owe you an apology. My dad shouldn’t have had your escorted like some”- “Criminal?” JJ cut in, still a little upset with being kicked out. “yeah, like that.” You said, “if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you’re a criminal. I mean I don’t really know you, but I don’t get the criminal vibes, y’know?” You spoke causing the both of you to laugh.

“Is that me in your painting?” He asked looking over your shoulder and you could feel his breath on your skin. He was close enough that you could feel the warmth of his tan skin on your own. “Uh-yeah it is. But I didn’t know it was you when I started, so does that make it less weird?” You asked, not looking at him. “It’s not weird, I’m flatter that you would include me in your drawing.” He told you and you could sense the honesty in his voice. You finished up some little details before signing it at the bottom with a heart handing it over to the blonde. “Here you can have it. I have too many drawings of this place anyways.” JJ took the drawing and placed it safely in his book bag.

You both collected your things getting ready to leave. “Maybe we can meet here again?” JJ asked hopeful you would take him up on his offer. “Uh, yeah sure. How about tomorrow?” You suggest, wanting to see him as soon as possible. “Alright, let’s meet here around 8 tomorrow morning.” “Okay.” You say smiling like an idiot before JJ is leaving in his truck.

It became a ritual between the two of you. Always meeting up there to hang out. It was easier to keep it a secret from everyone. JJ wasn’t worried about the Pouges knowing, but he knew the Kooks would never let you live it down. Of course, you didn’t care about that, but it was your family you worried about. JJ knew the pressure they put on you to be the perfect daughter and it was not easy shoes to fill. It started out innocent, just hanging out talking, you would bring food for JJ, and he would make you forgot about the pressure of being a Kook for a couple of hours.

You and JJ shared your first kiss there too. It was late one night when you heard something being thrown at your window. You had cancelled plans with JJ because of fight with your father. It was the same argument about not spending enough time with Rafe, and how it reflected badly on him and his business. It didn’t matter to him that Rafe was seeing other girls, he was blind to the Cameron’s ways. When you got up to look out the window you saw JJ standing there waving to you. He was worried when you cancelled because you had never done that before.

“What are you doing here?” You asked looking out the window. “Come down and see me, I missed you.” He spoke trying not to be too loud. You heart flutter thinking that he missed hanging out with you. You threw on some shoes and ran down the stairs.

Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone I'll be waiting, all there's left to do is run You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"

So I sneak out to the garden to see you We keep quiet, 'cause we're dead if they knew So close your eyes Escape this town for a little while, oh

Once you got outside you jumped into JJ arms giggling. The two of you took off to his truck parked down the street. “Where are we going?” You asked curiosity getting the best of you. “To our spot, I figured you need some time away.” He spoke up as he drove. You relaxed into the worn leather of the truck, and JJ was happy that you found comfort in the truck with him. He backed into the beach and the two of you got out into the bed of the truck. He grabbed some blankets from his bed at that chateau before he left and put them down to make a somewhat comfortable spot to lay down.

The two of you laid looking up at the stars and he started point out constellations in they sky. “And there’s Ursa Major.” He pointed towards the sky, “where I don’t see it?” You spoke sounding frustrated. He took your hand in his and pointed it towards the stars, “that’s the tail those 3 stars there, and then her body and legs.” He guided your hand to point in the direction of where he was talking about. “oh, I see it now!” You exclaimed giggling.

JJ knew at this moment that he was in love with you. He knew at this exact moment he would do anything for you. He thought that you were the most kind and gentle person he ever met, and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. He was pulled from his thoughts when you spoke up, “huh?” he blushed realizing you were still holding his hand. “I asked, how do you know were all these constellations are?” JJ wasn’t prepared for this conversation. You didn’t know much about his home life; he never spoke about it so you assumed he would tell you when he was ready. You could sense that he was nervous, and you squeezed his hand in a comforting gesture.

“uh-my mom used to take me down to the beach when I was kid. We would spend hours looking at the stars and she would show me all of the constellations.” He spoke not looking at you. You watched him, he was biting his lip, a tell tale sign he was nervous. “That sounds wonderful J, it must have been nice.” You spoke softly not sure if he wanted to take the conversation and farther. “She left. I don’t know, I was like in the third grade, I think. I don’t know why, but she never came back. I guess we weren’t enough for her. My dad never forgave himself, or me for it.” He almost whispered the last part, like he didn’t want you to hear.

You had seen the bruises and asked him about it, but he always blamed it on a run in with the Kooks, but you finally put two and two together. “He’s the one who hurts you isn’t he?” You ask never looking from him. It was a vulnerable conversation to have and you wanted him to know you were there for him. It was the first time he looked over at you since he started talking, and you could see the tears in his eyes. “Yeah, he is. He gets drunk to cope with mom leaving and then starts to yell. It’s the same thing every time, he says I have her eyes. When he’s sobers again, he apologizes but he’s stuck in vicious cycle.” You leaned closer to him resting your head on his shoulder, “one day we’re going to leave this stupid town and find our own place, I promise.” You whispered to him; you weren’t looking at him, but you knew he was smiling.

JJ looked over at you and leaned down locking his lips onto yours. It was like a dream come true. It was everything he wanted it to be and more. You were feeling the same thing, over the last little while hanging out with JJ you had developed a crush on him but didn’t want him to know scared the feelings wouldn’t be returned.

You both stayed in each other arms for what felt like hours when he stopped, “what time is it princess?” He asked grabbing your phone looking at the time. That’s when he saw the countless text messages from your parents. “oh shit.” He cursed under his breath. You gave him a confused look. “what? What’s wrong J?” You ask looking at your phone coming to same realization.

'Cause you were Romeo, I was a scarlet letter And my daddy said, "Stay away from Juliet" But you were everything to me I was beggin' you, "Please don't go, " and I said

Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone I'll be waiting, all there's left to do is run You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes" Romeo, save me, they're tryna tell me how to feel This love is difficult, but it's real Don't be afraid, we'll make it out of this mess It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes" Oh, oh

The two of you started to get everything packed up texting your parents to tell them you were on your way home. Just as you were climbing back in the truck another set of headlights came into view. It was weird because this was a quite a way from the rest of the island and it was late at night. “Get in the car.” JJ said to you, opening the door. You could sense his nervousness when the car came to stop. “Let’s just go JJ, probably some kids looking for a place to hook up.” You spoke wanting to go home.

To both of your surprise your father had called Rafe asking if you were with him. When Rafe said that he hadn’t seen you all night he offered to check some of the places you hung out the most. After interrogating some hopeless Pouge, they finally told him that he saw JJ Maybank’s truck head to secluded area of the island. The kid told him that he saw you in the truck with him, and then ran off. Rafe headed towards the south end of the island watching for JJ’s truck. Once he had driven the whole south end of the island, he circled back to Topper’s place to in list his help.

Topper got into Rafe’s truck pissed off because Rafe had interrupt his date with a girl he had been trying to win over for like a week. “What was so important I had to leave Kate for?” He asked as Rafe pulled out of the driveway. “Y/N’s dad called me and said she snuck out and she’s not answering her phone. You’re going to help me find her.” He explained. Topper was still confused. “Why do you need my help? She’s probably at a friend’s house, did you try calling her? Plus, I thought you were with that girl from the mainland now?” Topper inquired. “Yeah, well I ask around and someone said they saw her hanging out with that low life Maybank and she deserves better.” “Oh well then she’s probably on the old station road, someone told me that his trucks been out there a lot lately.”

Rafe was fuming with anger. He was sick of you messing around with a pouge making him look bad. He also knew that he wanted to work for her father one day and getting in good with his daughter was a good way to do it. They two men pulled down the road and drove until the saw the familiar truck and watched JJ help you get in the passenger seat. Rafe had texted your father the location and told him it was best he come; this would be a good opportunity to look good in front of him again.

You recognized the truck as soon as it came to a stop, along with your heart. JJ could tell you were scared by the way you gripped his arm. You gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m so sorry JJ.” You said and he looked at you confused until he saw who was getting out of the truck. He eyes widen at the sight of both Rafe and Topper. JJ protectively pushed you behind him before walking up to Rafe. “What’s going on here?” Rafe asked looking over at you. “Just taking Y/N home, what are you guys doing out so late?” JJ asked in a calm tone not wanting to come off threatening. He just wanted to get you home without out any fights.

Rafe had other plans on his mind. If he was going to look good in front of your father this was one of his only chances. He gave JJ a shove, “oh yeah? What are you doing with my girl Maybank?” JJ stood his ground before getting up in Rafe’s face too, you went to grab JJ’s arm trying to avoid the fight that was about to break out. “I’m not your girl Rafe. Please JJ can we just go home.” JJ looked down at you, “can you please move your truck Rafe so I can get her home.” He asked through gritted teeth. “No Topper and I’ll take her home. She doesn’t need to be hanging out with some piece of shit from the Cut.” He said his words twisting like a knife in his back.

JJ was beyond angry at this point, “kiss your mother with that mouth Cameron?” “At least my mom isn’t a runaway like yours.” That was all it took for JJ to punch Rafe square in the face. Rafe stumbled into Topper a bit before launching at JJ. The two broke into a brawl and all that could be heard were their grunts and you screaming for them to stop.

The next thing you know Topper is pulling JJ off Rafe, and your father is pulling Rafe away. Once Rafe is pulled away you run up to JJ to make sure he is okay, but before you can your father grabs your arm. “I warned you about hanging out with this trash.” He spoke with a tight grip around you arm. You looked over at JJ who was crouched by his truck. “is that what you want? Do you want to be known as trash like these other kids? Do you what he does, what his father does? Do you?” He was shaking your arm and screaming at you. “Ouch dad, you’re hurting me.” You spoke over his yelling. JJ looked over at you, he saw you father shaking your body and he could see the fear in your eyes. “Just let me say goodbye to him, please.” You pleaded with your father, and he reluctantly let you.

Once you got over to JJ you wrapped your arms around him trying to be careful of his already forming bruises. He wiped the tears off your face with the back of his thumb. “I’m sorry JJ, I should have never let any of this happen.” You whispered, and he cut you off with a quick kiss. “I’m fine princess, just go home with your dad, I don’t want you to get in any more trouble than you are. We’ll figure it out, I promise.” “No JJ, I don’t want to leave you.” “I’m fine, please you’re in enough trouble because of me in the first place.” You finally agreed to go after he promised to text you when he got back the Chateau.

It had been almost a whole week since everything went down. You almost never talked to your father anymore, and you stayed clear of Rafe and his goon squad. You went down to that spot on the beach everyday, but JJ never showed. He hadn’t texted you that night when he got home even though you blew his phone up with texted and calls. It broke you to think that you might have lost the love of your life all together just because of your selfish father.

Your parents had gone out for the afternoon and told you that the only person coming by should be the grocery boy. You protested not even wanting to answer the door. You wanted them to just have him leave them outside, but your parents didn’t want to food to spoil so you sat in your foyer staring at the wall waiting for him to come.

When you finally heard the knock on the door you open it to find Pope Heyward, JJ’s best friend on the other side. “Hi Y/N, your parents want these groceries dropped off, where do you want them?” He asked with a smile on his face. You always liked Pope he was kind and had tutor you in Math freshman year. “Um, in the kitchen is fine.” You spoke and lead him to your kitchen. “I also have some mail.” He handed a letter to you that had your name on it with messy writing. You thanked him and gave him the tip your parents left for him. Going to sit back down in the living room you opened the letter. You quickly looked over it is seeing JJ’s signature at the end with a heart.

Y/N,

I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you in a few days but my phone broke that night so I couldn’t text you. I didn’t go to our spot because I didn’t want you to be upset when you saw me, I know how you always panic when I’m hurt 😉 I promise I’ll make it up to you. Meet me on the outskirts of town at dusk tomorrow night. ~ JJ <3

I got tired of waiting Wonderin' if you were ever comin' around My faith in you was fading When I met you on the outskirts of town, and I said

Romeo, save me, I've been feeling so alone I keep waiting for you, but you never come Is this in my head? I don't know what to think He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring And said, "Marry me, Juliet You'll never have to be alone I love you and that's all I really know I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes" Oh, oh, oh Oh, oh, oh, oh 'Cause we were both young when I first saw you

You had dressed in a simple white romper with a cardigan considering it was a bit chilly out tonight. You also told your parent that you were staying at friends’ house so they wouldn’t come looking for you. You walked to the outskirts of the island and waited for JJ. You were giving up hope when you saw his truck pull up. He pulled up next to you and got out, and you ran to jump in his arms but suddenly stopped when you saw his face. It was all cut up and he had a nasty black eye. It didn’t take much for the tears to prick your eyes as your thumb smoothed over the freshly formed bruises. “It doesn’t hurt as bad as it looks.” He whispered to you, catching a few stray tears with his thumb.

“I’m so sorry J. I hate that he let them do this to you.” You said holding his face in your hands looking up at him. You could get lost in his beautiful blue eyes any day. They brought you such calm and love. JJ portrayed all his emotions in his eyes and that’s why you feel in love with them. “I tried talking to your dad, but he wouldn’t listen to me.” He said and you were shocked. No guy had ever done something like that for you. The only time a guy ever talked to your dad was for their own benefit much like Rafe did. “I don’t care what he thinks JJ. I want to be with you, and only you. You’ve made me the happiest person in the world.” You said to him, kissing him. “We’ll figure something out, you promised. I don’t care if we must keep sneaking around together. He’ll see it eventually.” You reasoned with him, the tears you were trying to hold freely falling now.

JJ hated seeing you like this. He couldn’t tear you away from your family, but he also knew that he didn’t want to try and live another day without you. He didn’t know how it was going to work but he would do what ever it took. “the two of us can jump in this truck right now and go wherever we want to go.” You said to him. “We could go for the summer, it’ll be fine. I have so money saved and we can get jobs on the mainland. Somewhere away from the Outer Banks.” You proposed hoping he would take your bait.

He thought about it for a minute. He did know some guys that were looking for help on the mainland with construction and maybe it would give your parents some time to adjust to things. “Okay, let’s go get your stuff.” The two of you went back to your house leaving a note explaining everything and bought the first tickets off the island never looking back. It really was a love story.

TAG LIST:

@taylathornton @lemur46 @drewstarkeysbitchh

#jj maybank smut #jj maybank #jj imagines #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj one shot #jjmaybanks #jj outer banks #jj maybank outerbanks #rudy pankow #outerbanks

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vminity21 · 3 years

Text

Beyond the Facade | knj

Pairing: handyman!namjoon X preacherskid!reader, bestfriend!taehyung X pregnant!reader, f2l!au

Word Count: 10,958

Genre: mysterious/angst/fluff/smut

Warning(s): strong language use, semi-detailed childbirth, mention of infidelity, alluding of a love triangle, evidence of a sheltered background, angst involving family matters, smut, losing virginity, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), nipple play, hand groping, lots of flashbacks but that is the point of the story i sorry; Rated: 18+

Summary: A sheltered life leads to harbored secrets that are buried in order to protect someone you are falling in love with. As the time is nearing for the life growing inside you to be welcomed into the world, the reminiscences of all the moments unfold to reveal a beautiful story that needed to be told.

Credits to: @suhdays for making such a phenomenal header! The talent she has never ceases to amaze me!

The graying of the clouds is all you can see beyond your window other than the panging rain droplets now trickling upon the glass. Arm resting against your forehead, your lips press into a straight line in response to the series of thoughts circling your mind. Carefully, you slide your palms upon the mattress in an attempt to sit up, wanting to see more of the view besides the crying sky. Knuckles curling to rub your tired eyes, you furrow your brows, the comforting warmth of the bed covers remain tangled between your shins. Leafless trees border the side of the building save for a small swing set; a paved section decorated with a basketball hoop where a large shed stands many feet across from it. If one is to step outside the front of the structure, there sits a church surrounded by a gravel parking lot where the neighboring land hosts a barbed wire fence with an abandoned house and field.

It's been four months since you deemed the fellowship hall your home, and appreciatively, the area has been vacant since the falling of the church which saves even more stress than what you've been in since moving here. Achingly, your legs stretch to move off the bed before your feet land onto the grainy carpet. Your right-hand slips to steady your back, maneuvering your body to scoot to the bed frame, which has become a daily routine, weak fingers gripping the wood until your digits become pale white. Letting out a steady sigh, with all your strength you lift yourself to where you can stand, "Oomf," a small whimper escapes past your lips, tensing at the cringe plaguing your shoulders.

Being seven months pregnant sometimes has its perks, but this isn't one of them. Bending your body forward slightly, you step sluggishly toward your dresser, pulling out maternity clothes lent to you before the move.

"So, when are you going to tell us?" The soft murmur belonging to your mother echoes from the driver's side. Her expression submits an evident mixture of exhaustion and exasperation; though it's been a month since the announcement of your pregnancy, your mother is currently driving you to a doctor's appointment for a checkup on the baby to make sure everything is okay, "we have a right to know."

Arms crossed over your chest in mild annoyance, you bite the corner of your mouth until the side of your head meets the window, getting lost in the line of trees zipping by.

Waddling into the bathroom, the vague memory fades, your hand reaching to turn the knob of the shower. The squeaky sound along with rushing water splatters against the shower curtain sending a soothing jolt of excitement. Chilly air springs goosebumps over your limbs once you're freed of your clothes, waiting patiently for the water to warm before inching into the tub. When steaming liquid soon dribbles among your frame, a grin of satisfaction sparks brief happiness you needed an escape to. The heat of the downpour eases your aching bones, fingers clasping behind your neck to lean your head back, "Oh!" You gasp in surprise when the instant feel of a kick happens within your tummy. Eyes flutter down in the direction of your swollen belly, palms moving to caress it, "Look at you, what are you trying to do? Escape?" Cooing with a light giggle, when the baby kicks again, you can't help the giddy smile tugging at the corner of your lips. Now, this- this is what you love about being pregnant. Finishing up, you dry your hair before swiftly dressing along with brushing your teeth.

Thoughts still pertaining to the small life growing inside you, you've decided since your first doctor's visit that you do not want to know your baby's gender until the day that you give birth. When you presented the idea to your mother, she was all on board, proclaiming how she had done that with your younger sibling. Running a brush through your hair, you skim one final look into the mirror formerly then head to exit the bathroom.

Gradually sauntering through the mini hallway, you're more zoned on the way your hand pats upon the wall in some form of maintaining stableness to the point you hardly notice almost slamming into a tall figure.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry!" A deep voice panics, raising his arms in a way to catch you though your arms mirror the same. Heart ramming, a breath of relief winds past your parted lips- your eyes scanning the slim legs that follow to the handsome face of Kim Namjoon. His eyes enlarged apologetically.

"Oh Namjoon, you scared me," a tender chuckle sets the feel of calm for he sees the amnesty etched in your eyes.

"I'm so sorry, [Y/N], I was about to head out to mow the lawn, but just wanted to check and make sure you're okay," he timidly scopes the view of your huge abdomen, gulping once his hands rest loosely at his sides, returning his eyes to search yours before a sweet grin spreads upon your face.

"It's no biggie. Thank you for checking on me,"

His dimples show from the way his lips press in a tight smile, nodding in reply, timorously turning to waltz to the outdoors in preparation of the day ahead. You watch until he disappears from your line of vision; the creep of a blush burning from your chest to your cheeks. Raking your hands through your hair, you force yourself once again to deny the attraction seeping through your soul thankful your blush attacked after he left.

Kim Namjoon works for your father, making sure the church grounds continuously stay clean and cut creating a pretty environment to the eye. Protecting the land is another part of the job description- protecting it from any loiterers, wild animals, protesters, etcetera- maintaining flower bushes encircling the area as well as mini projects your father will want Namjoon to build. The swing set, including the shed, happen to be plans that Namjoon successfully constructed due to your father's wishes. In return, Namjoon is provided a place to live- the room that once held your father's office, is now changed into a bedroom.

It's strange for you to think about it now- how so much has changed in just seven months, when a year ago the church was thriving, unaware of the secrets that clouded within the audience. Squeezing your eyes shut, a reminiscent from the beginning of your pregnancy rears its head causing a tiny brink of nausea to form.

Taehyung's arms drape around you tightly, embracing you in all entirety that your eyes shut against the crook of his neck. Your fingers squeeze his shoulder, legs bent across his thighs while tepid tears spill onto your cheeks.

"Shhh," he tries to comfort, his breath tickling your exposed ear- your face still buried beneath his chin, "It's going to be okay," he whispers just as soft as the flicking fire burning amongst numerous candle wicks. Scents of vanilla blends with birch fitting the dimly lit bedroom that you're thankful exists other than the man refusing to let you go until you feel better.

"How?" You choke back another sob, "How am I going to tell my parents? How am I supposed to confront the church if that's what it comes down to? Shit... My dad is going to fucking kill me," Taehyung's shirt is soaked, but he could care less, tangling his long fingers into your hair to stroke the back of your head.

"Okay, now, you're being dramatic,"

"So, maybe I am? But you know very well that my parents aren't going to take this lightly,"

"Yeah, but I think it's safe to say that telling your parents you're pregnant is far better than if you were to tell them how you truly feel about religion,"

"Okay? Perhaps, you're right," a snippet of a frustrated huff leaves your trembling lips, "especially not with what's been going on with the church, I don't know how much more they can take,"

"Well, your dad should have thought of that before he had an affair with my mom," Taehyung's icy tone brings chills to your frame before he loudly swallows, lips firm from the anger boiling behind his almond eyes. Tendrils of his bright, red hair glow regardless of how dark the atmosphere is, and you hardly hold back the sheer pain stabbing your heart from the guilt you can't help but endure.

"Tae, I'm so so sorry,"

"Hey," he peers down at you, realizing he may have taken his comment too far, even though you're just as angry towards your father as your best friend is, "you didn't know," sniffling back the remaining mucus clogging your nostrils, you desire to face Taehyung no matter how foolish you think you may look, scooting your body to where your palm indents in his mattress next to his legs, his arm now rests around your waist, and for a split second, you're close enough to where the tempting appearance of his striking face beckons the strange glimmer of longing. A longing of curing whatever loneliness you're going through, but you're not the only one experiencing this moment for Taehyung's lips part just enough to plead your attention.

You can't stop yourself, and you don't, because before either of you comprehend, you close the gap letting the delicate wave of his kiss caress yours. "Tae," you breathe against his lips, reuniting with his kiss almost immediately while a dizzy spell of want travels through your chest. You know this isn't right. He knows this isn't right, but too many pent-up emotions between your hearts have gotten out of hand, and for now, all the two of you have is each other. His fingertips move to tenderly trail your jaw, gasping into his mouth when the tip of his tongue circles yours before you move to trap him in a perfect straddle. You need something, anything to feel whole again- something to forget about the people you lost and the people you will lose. And, if there's anyone in this world you do not want to lose it's him.

There's no refraining, there's no hesitation, just the growing pace of the kisses, and the way you're so enthralled with how beautiful he feels squeezing you tighter to him. "[Y/N]," he moans, hating himself for how far he wants to go with you, yet he craves your touch, nearly supplicates for it. You want to feel his skin, and the aching throb below you seems to deafen any other screams of stopping, and yet, your fingers move to the end of his shirt, peeling it just enough to expose the solid wall of his abdomen. "[Y/N]," he stops you, breaking the final kiss, his hand covering your wrist, while your eyes frantically search the side of his face, "We- we can't,"

You haven't seen him since, because of the boundaries that were crossed and would have been farther crossed if Taehyung had not had the strength to stop. The pair of you have been best friends since childhood, and neither of you wants to take anything beyond for the sake of feeling empty, but he assured you that night, even after your panic of apologies pouring from your mouth, after the humiliation that shackled your system, even after the daunting assumption that your friendship was over- he cupped your cheek, promising that he was still here and that he would never end your attachment over something, you both will never regret.

It's a secret you've suppressed for some time. Taehyung calls every so often when he can; dealing with his broken-hearted father on top of two jobs consumes every bit of his time. Yet, you can't help but miss him, the one person who loyally stayed by your side even when you came forward to your friends about your pregnancy. And, the one friend who still loves you all the same, even after discovering his mother's affair with your father.

Rage isn't enough to describe the resentment against your father, and ever since you told your parents that you were expecting, and ever since your move, you haven't spoken to him. You'll never forget how torn your mother was- depression weighing heavy on her, and that's something that's hard to forgive.

Your mother looks frail as she twiddles the crumpled tissue in her hands. Tears brim her eyes through the silence in the car, sparse sniffles breaking your heart into a million pieces. The two of you had just come back from the grocery store to restock the kitchen in your recently new home and are now parked at the church's back door to drop you off. You hesitated upon leaving because the thought of your mother having to return home to a place of remorse is the last thing you want for her. The promise of a car was granted to you, but you turned it down, refusing to accept anything from the man who caused so much pain to your family. To Taehyung's family.

Running the tissue underneath her eyes, she speaks, "[Y/N]?"

"Yeah?" Your voice is barely a whisper, but the guilt from how stressed your mother has been is something you wish you could carry instead of her. After the betrayal of your father as well as him resigning from the church to send people away from the place they once sought refuge in- on top of her oldest daughter being pregnant with her first child is already a lot to handle. The other frustration you bite your tongue from expressing is the fact of your parents refusing to let you get a job until the time after you give birth. You want to make the money to provide for yourself and your son or daughter without the dependence upon your parents- your mother especially, yet you're grateful for her adamancy on keeping you from any risks outside of the walls of your home.

It takes a moment before your mother gathers her words, "Do you- do you think you could ask Namjoon to help take you to the hospital? Whenever it's time... for you to have the baby?"

It was easier for your mother to ask that of you because he lived in the same building, and if any emergency of your water breaking happened earlier than expected, at least you would have someone available to take you to the hospital. Your gaze clears from the zone out you've had the whole time standing in the entrance of the hallway before Namjoon left. Turning on a heel, you decide to return to your bed, slipping under the covers- you're too wide awake to sleep as of now, yet the foam of the mattress eases the soreness of your back once you lean against the pillows.

-Four months earlier-

Queasiness envelops your abdomen to where you recognize the cue, rushing to the porcelain throne to heave whatever yellow liquid is left- spurting it into the toilet while you grimace through the pain. The door swings open behind you mixed with heavy footsteps quickening to you. When large hands swoop to hold your hair back, you don't have the strength to look at the intruder due to the continuous retching that deems you defenseless.

"It's okay, it's okay," the deep voice is soft, and relief brings tears to your eyes when you recognize it to be Kim Namjoon. You're embarrassed once your stomach gives you a break, your palms pressing to your forehead while you slump against the wall.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper, swiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Namjoon scatters to find a tissue, patting the corners of your lips.

"You don't have to be sorry,"

"That... wasn't what I was apologizing for,"

A knowing glance is all he must give for you to share whatever thoughts you can't bring yourself to voice. He was your friend before all of this, yet you failed to mention to him about the pregnancy, and with him being the worker of the Church- he didn't discover your budding stomach until the day you moved in. His eyes flicker away from your stare toward the slight protrusion of your baby bump due to your ruffled t-shirt. He settles on the floor across from you, silence being the only conversation held. He isn't one to hold anger, and though you kept him unaware until your third month of pregnancy, he refuses to leave your side, making a pact to himself he will do whatever it takes to provide the care that you will need. As well as the little one.

Despite the emotional roller coaster, you remain amazed with how he keeps his patience with you. A day of depression to a random bout of laughter- memories turning of the betrayals of close friends who judged you immediately the day you put your trust in them- the freedom you craved away from the sheltered life your father forced upon you- even days where you can't seem to put your tears on pause, yet Namjoon holds you through every grieve.

"What if... what if I'm not good enough?" Your voice shakes between sobs- you had been dreaming restlessly yet another night, tossing within your bed to the point Namjoon came to check on you- rushing to pull you into his arms the moment your eyes fluttered to reveal pained tears. Your words nearly shatter him- pulling away just enough to where his eyes lock with yours.

"How can you say that, [Y/N]?" The faint light of your lampshade causes his face to glisten- angelically, you decide, yet the shadowing doubt of motherhood plagues you still, because what if you genuinely can't care for the child that you're six months away from holding? Fears encompass you like an ocean, smashing along your mind in harsh waves. "Look at me," are the words that snap you from whatever sea you were suffocating in to realize you had unintentionally switched your gaze from him. It's the calming effect the warmth of Namjoon's eyes bring when he exposes whatever faith he has in the woman you are and will become. "You're going to do just fine, believe me, I know it,"

Sniffling, you run the back of your hand along your chin where an escapee of a tear dangled, "How can you be so sure?"

"Because when have you ever given up on anyone that you care about," it's not a question, he's stating what he knows to be a fact. Something he learned of you when he first was hired to tend to the property. "You're stubborn when it comes to winning someone over. I was determined not to befriend anyone here. But you changed that for me, remember?"

A knowing tug of a smile trembles into a stretch upon your lips, "I do,"

"Same with the baby. I know you will love that little one more than life itself. It doesn't have a choice, and you'll let him or her know the second they're born,"

When a hearty snicker leaves your mouth, you notice the sticky feel of your drying face- you are no longer crying.

"You don't have to do this alone, [Y/N]. You showed me that even when I didn't know what else to do. Now, get some rest, okay? You have a doctor's appointment bright and early," the bed creaks from the gradual movement of Namjoon standing,

"Wait!" You speak before you can stop yourself, Namjoon immediately pausing- the heat of his arms is felt beneath your palms from your pounce of panic, and with evident chagrin, you shyly stare at his chest, "Can you uh, ... Can you stay in here with me tonight?" You've refrained from asking sooner due to the shame of not telling him the news that's become apparent, and even now, you haven't been able to comprehend how he's not the slightest bit angry with you. When his arms encircle you closer to his frame, no words need to be said because he's already answered by just this gesture. Nuzzling into his embrace, the side of his chin pressed to your forehead, "Whoever it is, I hope they grow up to be half the person that you are," you whisper, squeezing him tighter, infinite smiles now ending the night that cures any ounce of uncertainty.

By the fifth month of pregnancy, you finally come to the realization of how selfish you have been- it's no longer about you and your needs; it is now about the needs of your son or daughter growing within you. Namjoon catered to every grocery store trip, stocking the kitchen and in return, you choose to cook for him every meal, hoping to show as much appreciation to him that you can.

"Have you thought about any names?" Taehyung's voice muses on the other line of the phone, the sound of him bringing a small smirk upon your face. You've missed him terribly so, yet the acceptance of surprise phone calls is all you can settle with for now. At his question though, you pause with the tilt of your head, taking a quick sip of the broth that you're currently heating on the stove.

"No?" It's a brief question of guilt, something you haven't been ready to ponder, "Honestly... haven't thought that far ahead yet," you add in the vegetables to boil within the broth.

The familiar, deep chuckle is all you hear to gain an idea of what your best friend is about to say next, "I should have known,"

"Alright, Birkenstocks. What do you mean by that?"

"Breezing past that mistake. You named your Parakeet, Bird,"

"Well, in my defense, I was seven years of age,"

"And in my defense, playing basketball in Birkenstocks was supposed to start a trend,"

"Since how? I-"

"Ask Hoseok,"

"You lost a bet didn't you-"

"And, I will pay for it for the rest of my life, now won't I?"

"With me around, you will,"

Hoseok is the deacon's son who's dream of fashion has been shunned by his family, yet he designs in a sketchbook Taehyung hides for whenever Hoseok and he share the same work shifts. He's not one you have had the opportunity to communicate much with, but you're thankful Taehyung has someone to maintain a friendship with while you two have been apart. A short response of silence settles while your cheek and shoulder squeeze the phone for a moment as you stir the steaming vegetables.

"You could have named the bird, Tweety at least-"

"Oh!" You playfully growl, "Back with that again, huh?"

"Do I need to send you a link of baby names-"

"I promise you, Tae, I do not plan on naming my child, Kid, okay?"

"You'd be surprised-"

Taehyung's excitement for his future Godchild brings a simmering joy to the surface of your pattering heart. Almost as equal to the eagerness, your mother has shown with this being her first grandchild. Graciously, your mother has never been as strict as your father, hence why the past five months have gone much smoother then they would have if your father had never had an affair with Mrs. Kim.

The phone call ends whenever dinner is finished, and by that time, Namjoon scuffles through the door- the outdoorsy scent drifts to your nose while you place the sweltering bowls of soup on the table. Namjoon shimmers his feet from his work boots before hanging his coat, timidly glimpsing in your direction to confirm you're okay.

Small talk ensues with the typical questions of how each of your days has gone once the pair of you take your seats. One secret, yet another you and Taehyung have harbored, is the awareness of Namjoon's atheism- something your father must never learn of his worker. Namjoon, who will not admit it, works on the church grounds in order to provide for his family who lives a few miles up the road. Ultimately, there are many secrets not worth sharing to your parents, not only for the sake of sanity but for the protection of the ones who you've kept close, especially Namjoon. With your father being the tyrant of a priest, he used to be, there is still the potential distress of him firing Namjoon over the mere difference of beliefs. Something you refuse to let happen while you're around.

Clinking spoons replace conversation, for how long, you're uncertain; the fog of your thoughts seem to consume upon one in particular- something that has remained festering long enough, yet you have never said it aloud- figuring this moment may be the time that you do. Namjoon confided in you and Taehyung once he found comfort in trusting the pair of you- even subjects that one would have never expected him to open about. Guilt presents itself to the point your eyes squeeze shut, opening them to move your spoon to play at a piece of broccoli swimming in the potage.

"They don't know," your words are careful- slow even- continuing your vision on the dinner before you. You can feel Namjoon's soft eyes on you, his expression confused. "They don't know who the father is," that's when your gaze trails to meet his eyes just for more guilt to manifest behind them. By they, you're referring to your parents, as well as every other soul excluding Taehyung, "I won't tell them." Namjoon slowly nods with the sense of understanding, knowing the cost that will be taken if your father were to know who you're trying to bury beneath this web of fear. "Besides," you sigh heavily, "I'm surprised my father was lenient enough to let me live here," you confess, "if he wasn't so guilty over the affair, I would be homeless-"

"I wouldn't let that happen," Namjoon says suddenly, destroying whatever anger you were dwelling upon. Your mouth falls open in shock at his words and the frilly flutter of your heartbeat is hard to ignore. After living here for two months, he's proven time and time again that he means what he says; what he just said. Speechless, the rest of dinner continues in fond silence, your heart refusing to steady for the man slowly captivating your heart.

The sixth month of pregnancy gifts swollen feet and aching bones on top of your belly growing heavier by the week. Namjoon has stayed loyal- tending to your pregnancy cravings in the dead of night, aiding to your discomfort whether it involves a heating pack or a cup of ice, slipping under the covers on nights you want him to hold you, driving you to every doctor's appointment without any hesitation; with all that he's been doing for you, it's like your feelings have blossomed deeper which you know shouldn't be happening with the peril of your father finding out. The unexpected visits from your father are few, yet you usher the reminder to yourself of protecting Namjoon, though he carries the weight of facing your father instead of you who avoids the confrontation.

Night comes quickly after a day spent cleaning up the nursery that seems to be coming together, other than the crib Namjoon's been building- something you accidentally discovered when strolling close to the shed one sunny day. He's so dedicated to the unborn infant, it nearly brings you to tears, glancing around the elegant hues of multiple pastel colors painted across the room with stuffed animals, blankets, and furniture he continues to gift you amongst different items your mother has added to the collection. You always enjoy the sporadic visits from your mother, because she's free to celebrate the life that she refuses to consider as a sin.

"Are you thinking boy or girl?" Your mother elbowed your side earlier today after moving around the furniture.

"Hm," you hummed happily, thankful for the relationship that's being redeemed with her, "you know? I'm not very sure,"

"I can tell from all the colors you've chosen," she teased, "it looks beautiful," she cooed, pulling you into an accomplished side hug. You didn't want to stick to just pink or blue, so you chose every other shade in between, colliding the space with colors that could go for either or. "You're going to be a wonderful mother,"

The sound of the front door opens distracting you from the former memory, staring down at the table that now rests heaping plates of chicken and rice. The fellowship hall used to be filled with numerous rows of horizontal tables mingled with circular ones where the crowd would come to camaraderie to joyful hymnals, delicious food, reflected testimonies without any warning of the secrecies soon floating to the surface. Now a solo table, the one planted before you, pairs with a few sparse chairs just enough to seat at least four people.

"Hiya," you greet, trying to ignore the subtle increase of your heartbeat. Namjoon flashes a kid-like smile once he shutters out of his jacket, "How was your day?"

"It was good, thank you," he replies, taking long strides until he makes it to you, "How was yours with your mom?" His right-hand steadies the small of your back while his left one clutches yours to help settle you into your seat. It's hard to focus on the question he just asked when the scent from outside seems to heighten the attraction you already feel towards him, "It was good," you manage to say, reaching for the silverware to begin digging into your food, "Thank you... For helping me," the distance between your stomach and the table now is something you've been trying to get used to as well as the turmoil of trying to stand and sit.

"Anytime."

A blush floods your cheeks when he holds your timorous stare, so you avert your eyes to your dinner, letting the obvious feeling of Namjoon watching deepen the red shade on your skin. A few minutes disappear into time before you feel a shove against your abdomen from the inside. Your hand instinctively flies to press upon the baby bump, Namjoon jumping at the motion, stopping mid-chew, while his eyes enlarge in surprise.

"It's okay," you chortle at his reaction, "it's just the baby kicking," his response reminds you of the moment you felt the baby kick for the very first time- similar to a weird flutter that's hard to describe, and it had taken you a second to realize what it was exactly- just your baby making its presence known to you. Namjoon swallows the bite of food in a nervous gulp, the pang of his silverware mutes from where he lays it on the napkin.

"Here," you murmur affectionately preparing to stand to your feet. Namjoon immediately jolts from his chair, rounding the table to gather your hand in his. Instead of relying on his strength to help you position yourself, you plop back onto the seat, sliding his hand to the area where the baby kicked a few minutes prior. Namjoon kneels to level with you, his plump lips ajar mirroring the widen stance of his eyes while he patiently waits, his nervous heart pounding in his temples. It's the exuberant joy in his smile that meets his eyes in a dazzling glow the pure second the baby kicks again, and the bliss of delight smothers your heart in so many ways imaginable at this moment the pair of you are capturing together. Your hand remains resting upon his while your eyes lock repudiating from breaking contact.

"I told you that you don't have to do this alone," he whispers, and it's then you come to the awareness of how near his face is from yours, his dimples visible from his smile to the point you press your lips to each one, shocked at your act of boldness, but you can't refrain. He's too handsome and too wonderful to stay away from any longer. That's all the invitation needed, for Namjoon's lips brush yours igniting the sparks of what you've been trying to suppress for way too long. Your fingers find his hair when he leans to deepen the kiss, moving his hands to rest on the chair, fingers pressing into the wood until pale white.

At this moment, you don't care what anyone thinks.

You are in love with Kim Namjoon, and there is nothing in this world that's going to scare you away from that.

-Present day-

The pitch black outside the window brings frustration when you awaken to scold yourself for how long you've slept. Gathering yourself once the fatigue rolls off, you cautiously sit up, scooting to the bedpost until you're on your feet. Taking a trip to the restroom, you notice upon exiting the clock on the wall reads seven pm, and you wonder if Namjoon has made it inside for the evening. It's eerily quiet save for the air conditioning, but you pause when you see the lights are on in the main area of the building. Shrugging, you waddle around the corner until the sudden shouts of, "SURPRISE!", nearly knocks you to the ground.

Gasping, your eyes widen while your hand flies to your chest. A prolonged second interferes before your brain deciphers the two individuals cheering before you. Numerous pink and blue balloons hover to the top of the ceiling matching the colors of a cloth decorating the one table now adorned with a cake and wrapped gifts. "What?" You can barely speak from the light headiness taking over, but the tears that well in your eyes when you see the boxy smile of your best friend sends you in an attempt to run just to crash into his arms. He meets you halfway, surrounding you within his embrace as he rocks you back and forth muffling your wails of joy into his checkered sweater. Your soaked cheeks are wiped away from the material as been done countless times before, and his tepid palms squish your cheeks when he steps back to gesture toward your belly.

"Wow look at you! Your belly is huge!"

"I'm still in denial of how fast this pregnancy is going!" You say breathlessly, you're so happy to see Taehyung, you can hardly contain your composure. Namjoon steps forward with his hand reaching to squeeze your best friend's shoulder. Taehyung's fiery strands are curled upon his forehead, lustrous beneath the lights as it always has before, "Your father let you come?" There's a seriousness behind your voice at the question because you are cognizant of the fury Tae's father has against the church from the events that occurred what, in some ways feels like a lifetime ago.

"Well, no," Taehyung winces mischievously, "I told him that Namjoon and I were going to a basketball game,"

"Of course, you did, you sly fox,"

"You know you love me," Tae pecks your forehead before leading you to the table where the sweet whiff of cake flatters your nostrils.

"You guys didn't have to do this," you're still wiping tears off your face, though it's evident that your crying is from untainted gratitude, "What did I do to deserve the two of you?"

Namjoon kneels, intertwining his long fingers with yours, using the tip of his thumb to tickle circles upon your skin, "Taehyung mentioned how when you were kids that you loved surprises, especially if it involved a small party of some sort so," he tilts his head toward Taehyung, "And I knew how much you missed him, too. I just wanted to do something to celebrate you. And, the baby,"

It doesn't take much to smother this man in kisses nowadays, and once you express your thankfulness to the men before you, Namjoon reads your mind, snatching a small kiss in return.

"You two are on kissing terms, again?" Taehyung teases while you poke your tongue at him in mild embarrassment. Namjoon does not know of the moment you and Tae shared, and that's something you're not ready to talk about, and with the cutesy scrunch of Namjoon's face, the memory escapes to the back of your mind for now.

By the end of the night, the frosting had met all three of your faces- some smushed into Taehyung's hair while some swiped across Namjoon's neck, and your eyebrows are smeared along with the possible suspicion of some getting up your nose. Cleaning the mess takes a while, but nobody in the room would trade it for anything, and it's good stalling to prevent the night from completely ending.

Walking Taehyung to his car is the only dread overwhelming your system because you're not sure of when you will get to see him next. Tears flood your eyes, breaking Taehyung's heart as an awe of shame gusts past his lips, "I'm sorry, [Y/N]. My dad's expecting me home soon,"

"I don't want you to go," you choke, on the brink of bursting at the seams- Tae fumbles to tighten his arms behind your back- him trying to be mindful of your abdomen being pressed too firmly against his frame.

"Please don't cry," he whispers near your ear, "Please, please don't cry," His lips curl from the tears burning within his own eyes wishing with all his strength he could rid of the aching hurt that has kept your friendship separated. Tae swiftly pulls away when he remembers another present, he meant to give you earlier, whirling around to unlock his car, bending into the vehicle while his hands shuffle around the floorboard in a desperate search for whatever he wants to show you. When he turns to face you, a sharp inhale of glee echoes into the night- the lopsided plush of a heart is attached to a blue body ornamented with yellow polka dots that match its mouth. "Oh my gosh!" You squeal, "Tae, it's adorable! Where did you find this?"

Wiggling his eyebrows in pride, he hands it to you, "I made it myself. And," he pauses for effect, "since you have trouble naming things, I did the honors and named it for you. I introduce, Ta Ta."

"Ta Ta?"

"Yeah, like 'Ta Ta... for now,'"

"Just when I thought I couldn't love your dork of a self even more," you exhale, slamming your eyes shut just to bury your face further into his chest, not able to breathe in his scent from the clog of mucus stuffing your nose.

"I love you, too." His voice thickens with emotion, "Now, quit saying it like you're never going to see me again, because you know I'm not going anywhere."

"You promise?" Your cold nose moves to press into the corner of his jaw where steady breaths move between your parting mouth. It's a serene moment where he turns just enough to glimpse at you, engaging in the beauty he's always found within your heart. Taehyung's agape lips now rest centimeters from yours when his large hands raise to rest his fingertips along your flushed cheeks- the curls of his frizzy hair pressing to your forehead, prickling your closing eyes. You discover your free hand enfolding around his wrist from the daunting desire looming from what's been left unspoken, and the shiver in his breathing brushes your chin once the light touch of his nose cuddles to yours. You both stand there for a seeming reel of eternity, battling the inward mayhem of choice that's displayed itself on the invisible line tempting to be traversed.

"I promise."

He hadn't kissed you, but there was no denial that he wanted to, especially with the way your face has haunted his dreams since the night your lips met in emotional patterns of sorrow. But, deep down, he knows it's too obvious of a choice if the one for him is to be you, but the love that has been kept for you will never go away. The same as a tether of your heart will forever be his no matter how deep your love goes for someone else. Kim Taehyung will always be your poise- your muse- the soulmate of a friendship that you will always need.

Toddling to the nursery upon Tae's departure still presents the boiling tears from your tired eyes dripping off your cheeks as you set Ta Ta beside the koala plushie Namjoon gifted you; the humor involving the struggle of both Taehyung and Namjoon carrying the crib Namjoon built for the baby taunts a smirk at the corner of your lips. It's dark besides the faint light of the hallway behind you, giving you just enough to admire the scenery around you- sniffling back what you can before reaching to cover your quivering chin with your hand. You've missed Taehyung. You miss him. And, how beautiful of Namjoon to surprise you with your best friend's presence? Reuniting the three musketeers from once upon a time?

Little do they know, from the unearthing of your pregnancy to now, the two men have mended your broken heart and stitched it back together again piece by piece. You're highly uncertain of where you would be without them, and just the thought alone is one you refuse to dwell on. While memories turn like a spindle of loosened thread, a revelation halts you in your tracks. The thought rings loud and clear gracing a wide smile on your face while one more set of tears dampen the corner of your eyes.

After scolding yourself for so long for not thinking hard enough on the subject,

right here, hands grasping the handlebar of your future child's cradle,

you finally have a name picked out for your little one.

2 months later....

"Namjoon, I'll be fine," the pointed look you flash him prompts a nervous chuckle once his hands rest to rub gently along your sides. He's concerned as he's been almost the entire pregnancy, but of course, now his worries are heightened to an extreme, "I'm not due until next week. Don't worry,"

"I know," he groans, tugging you closer just enough to plant a warm to kiss to your neck, "But, I can't help it."

"I'll be fine," you drag the word with a teasing sound of a whine. Namjoon shaking his head at you with a smile you're now feeling upon your lips. "Mm," you hum into his kiss, your hands sliding to squeeze his shoulders in reaction to how impeccable it feels. You end the moment simply to gaze at him, "You'll be back before you know it," you assure him- his trip to the grocery store being the plan for the afternoon.

"Okay," he says tenderly, eyes flickering to your lips once more before leaning to brush them to his own, "I love you,"

There's a small pause, one that entails warmth smothering your chest in giddy sensations when his eyes steal yours after pulling away, "I love you, too, Joon," watching him head out the door until the truck disappears along the road.

Of course, the day doesn't go accordingly the way you expect, because on carefully prodding to the kitchen in preparation to cook breakfast, a slight ache ensues within your abdomen. "Oh," you groan, stroking the area with your fingertips before deciding to lay down for a bit instead. When reaching your room, the sharp pain of a cramp returns causing a harsh cringe as you lean against your bedpost, hardly able to concentrate on the attempt of climbing onto the mattress. You remain hunched over for five minutes, forcing slow breaths to prevent from panicking, and when you find the coast to be clear, you straighten yourself out.

Suddenly, before you can comprehend what's happening, a gush of water splatters onto the carpet soaking your feet in the process.

"No," you whisper, eyes frantically scanning your room for your cell phone. Namjoon shouldn't be far with the grocery store only being a few miles away, but in order to get a hold of him, you must find your only way of contacting him. Hands pat your bed, thrusting off the bed covers and shaking them roughly, yet no 'thump' is heard before you cast the covers in a pile onto the ground. The next destination leads to the restroom, with no luck of your phone being in your bedroom- when another wave of pain shoots within your stomach, you gasp, trying to endure through the discomfort with all your might.

Leaving a water trail behind with every step you take, you desperately search the countertops before stepping into the area that holds the kitchen, wondering if there is any possibility it may have been left behind there. Your feet meet the cool surface of the tile floor, your gape scanning the entirety of the space before a pant of relief escapes past your dry lips the second your shaking hands gather the device. "Agh!" A contraction surges, hands squeezing your phone unintentionally, yet you grimace just enough to maintain your focus on the task at hand. Managing to get the phone ringing, it doesn't take long until you hear the man of your dreams at the other end of the line.

"Hello?"

"Joon, it's time," you choke, voice thick with pain.

"Oh, shit! Hold on tight, I'm on my way, just hold tight, I'm coming-"

You just happen to be running by the church in favor of dropping off the work truck keys to your father when he unintentionally introduces you to the new employee you assume he plans to hire, "[Y/N], this is Kim Namjoon. He's going to be taking care of the church grounds for us, isn't that wonderful?"

"Hello, it's nice to meet you," you greet, underlyingly suffering from the attraction swarming to your reddening cheeks. When your father mentioned of hiring, you never anticipated the person to be this overwhelmingly breathtaking.

"It's nice to meet you too, Ma'am," Namjoon's polite nod mirrors the dimples evident from a soft grin, his hand reaching for yours to shake before your father continues the tour of the place you've grown up memorizing. But something initiates you to stay, eyes lingering on the back of the tall figure decked in a turtleneck covered by a green jacket complementing a pair of jeans along with brown shoes. There's a spark of intuition that day, one that ignited the prominent determination that you want to get to know this person even if your father ends up finding out.

Namjoon busts through the door with pure alarm etched in his voice, "[Y/N], I'm here! Baby, I'm right here," he immediately jumps to where you are, keeled over on the floor, throwing his arm around you until he lifts you out of the fellowship hall and into the work truck. Words you attempt to form are muted by whimpers, tears brimming your eyes from the pain that doesn't end, "I'm going to grab the suitcase, I'll be right back," time must be faster than you can measure for Namjoon arrives, slinging the suitcase into the backseat before slamming into the driver's side.

It takes a while for the newly found employee to warm up to every opportunity you take in order to get to know him. One thing he's slowly but surely learning is that you're not one to give up so easily- something you've noticed him picking up on, especially on days, you annoy him when he's on call to build a project. You make it clear to talk to him nonstop until he acknowledges your existence, and the times he doesn't breathe a word results in a call to Taehyung.

"Come help me," you plea hearing Taehyung's exasperated sigh on the other line.

"You are so annoying,"

"You know you love me, fool," you gloat because with defeat, your best friend reluctantly joins you, even accompanying a basketball just in case if Namjoon happens to fancy sports. Your girlfriends, Luna and Jo, were informed of your undying crush on the mysterious worker, crossing their arms in jealousy that you half-heartedly ignored.

"He doesn't even come to the services," Jo droned, "Don't you think it'd be best to get to know someone that's more... active in the church? Like the pianist's son, Min Yoongi. You two had such a cute relationship when you were three-"

You can't get past why no one seems to understand that you must win Namjoon over, and though Luna and Jo have seen the world along with you since childhood, you roll your eyes, turning on a heel, "I'll catch you later,"

Tires screech along the road while Namjoon swerves past cars on the highway, hands ghost white from the tight grasp he has upon the steering wheel. Meanwhile, your hand grips the bar above you while your other rests upon your belly- the keenness of getting to hold your baby in your arms is all you're thinking about other than Namjoon who's keeping you sane.

"Just a few more miles and we will be there. Just breathe," his voice is unsteady from the fright of this situation, but he upholds his enlarged gaze upon the road. He fumbles for his phone- trying to contact anyone from your family in order to tell them the news.

"GAH!" Leaning forward, a wail echoes within the vehicle as another contraction attacks.

"You guys aren't going to stop until I'm your friend, am I right?" Namjoon's elbows are folded from the hold he has on the basketball meeting his chest. Tae jumps sporadically in front of him with outspread arms preparing to prevent the ball from flying into the hoop.

"Damn straight," you shrug your shoulders in observation of Namjoon's tilting head.

"I thought church girls didn't cuss,"

"And I thought you'd have more game than the basketball," You retort.Tae halts, straightening his frame, eyes flickering between you and a quiet Namjoon, "Now hurry up. If you win, I will leave you alone for good. If Tae wins then we treat you to dinner and a movie. How does that sound?"

With an incredulous shake of his head, Namjoon smirks, "Okay," the scuffle of his converse is heard on the pavement when he briefly turns to toss the ball toward the hoop. The basketball pangs the ring, twirling ferociously to the point, your heart begins to sink, but to your pleasure, the ball tips off the rim, landing in a rejoicing Taehyung's arms.

"HAH!" You sprint, colliding into Taehyung's embrace while Namjoon tries to stifle the smile overtaking his lips, "Looks like it's going to be a burger and fries' kind of night," you wink, unaware of the hope that Namjoon has of wanting to gain your friendship just as much.

The hospital entrance appears after the rush of Namjoon turning into the parking lot soon helping you out of the truck. The suitcase will have to wait being he can retrieve it later, his ultimate goal is getting you within the building to where you're safe. "It's okay, it's okay," he tries to appear relaxed, but everything becomes a blur until a nurse with fluffy, black hair approaches with a wheelchair to help settle you in. His nametag reads 'JIMIN' – him rolling you quickly down the hall when the presence of a female nurse whose nametag reads 'MONNIE' helps you change into the nightgown upon arrival of the hospital room. Voices are mingling together from the pounding in your temples, but Monnie keeps her hands gentle on your back to lead you to the bed where she hooks you up to what seems like a million machines whilst providing as much comfort to you as possible.

Namjoon's calloused hand covers yours when one other nurse, Jungkook, floods the room, bringing a chair for him to sit in. You're not sure of all the commotion that's overwhelming the room, but you steady your breathing as Namjoon directs, squeezing his hand through each contraction. You recognize the doctor, Kim Seokjin, a tall man already dawned in a scrub hat, mouth mask and gloves, scurrying to where you are, "Alright, I am going to check your dilation Ms. [Y/N], just breathe in and out." Slamming your eyes shut, you whimper from the discomfort, "Alright, she is dilated three centimeters. Once you are at ten centimeters [Y/N], you will begin pushing. No worries, I will alert you as soon as I need you to begin. Keep breathing. Everything will be okay,"

"Taehyung... My mom... Dad-" you murmur deliriously between breaths, the foggy sense of your conscious outweighing how to speak properly.

"No worries baby, they're on their way. They're on their way right now," he sweetly kisses your perspired forehead, running his free hand through your tangled hair.

The three musketeers were official after the day at the basketball hoop, eventually learning of Namjoon's atheism as well as him providing for his family.

"My dad couldn't find a job that pays enough, so I promised him that I will do whatever it takes," it had been six months since Namjoon had been hired, and currently is finishing his final paint to the shed while you and Taehyung sit Indian style in the grass. "Thanks to the job here, I can afford the rent for my parents as well as give them my car since here, I just use the work truck..." Namjoon sharing more in-depth with his life story- you finally get what you've been determined to gain since meeting him.

It's weeks later that you'll never forget, leaning against a mini, red monkey bar after sharing your feelings toward the man you've grown so fond of. There's no denying the feelings he's had for you, and once he inches closer, the crave to hold his hand has never been stronger. Boldly, your fingers trail to intertwine with his, your nerves close to getting the best of you despite the persistent smile that hasn't left him. When you find the bravery to look up at him, he swallows calmly before leaning in, you stand on your tiptoes to meet halfway until your lips touch. The slide of his arms encompassing your frame feels so inviting when he presses his body to yours. The world is put on pause to you and nothing else matters other than the way his lips move so elegantly- your arms wrapping around his shoulders while he sways you from side to side.

Time doesn't seem to speed up through all this pain, but the adrenaline swimming in your veins peaks when Dr. Seokjin prepares to check your dilation again. "Ten centimeters-" He confirms, "Alright, [Y/N], the baby's coming. When I say push, you push. Okay," he positions himself though you can't see anything past your gown and raised knees, "One, two, three! Push!"

"AGH!" You grunt, a small scream vibrating at the back of your throat once you push with every fiber of strength, you can muster.

"Breathe, breathe," Namjoon's hand hasn't once left yours- sweat pouring from your scalp while the burning agony overpowers your body.

"Is she here!?" The click of darting heels enters the room and are loud enough for it to catch your attention. "Oh, honey, I'm here!" It's your mother- scampering to your side with the undeniable blur of Taehyung's red hair following suit. You want to ask where your father is, but before a chance is given, the doctor shouts, "Push!"

"AAAAAAAGH!" You manage, body straining in all its entireness. Taehyung jolts to let you squeeze his hand along with Namjoon's. His features show nothing but fear at the sight of you being in so much strife, yet he holds it together enough to cheer you on.

"I'm- I'm so glad you both are here," you cry- another sixty seconds drifting before the shout of, "Push!" erupts.

"I'm scared," you murmur in the dimness of the room. On your knees, Namjoon's soothing hands glide along the tops of your thighs motivating you to run your hands along his forearms. You don't know where your parents are, and you're too angry to care. You're bushed of the fighting so, you sought comfort in being here, with Namjoon. Taehyung dropped you off at the fellowship hall with the promise of not breathing a word- because if your parents were to find out remotely of your whereabouts, you'd hate to discover what the consequences will be.

"Me too," his nervous eyes investigate every inch of your face. You've never been with anyone this way before- secretly hidden away from the world outside trying to suppress the revealing crave of what you're curious about. Scooting forward, you drape either leg around him, propping yourself enough to where your arms lace around his neck.

His breath hitches from the gesture- your lips erotically aligning with his in slow movements, heat rising below you when you feel the hardening of his being beneath your sense, "I want you," you whisper. He knows that you're a virgin, and with care, he lays you on the bed, hovering above your frame where your bodies align perfectly. "Are you sure this is what you want," concern consumes his countenance, but you desperately bring your hands to cup his cheeks.

"I don't think I've wanted anyone so much in my life,"

You gasp into his kiss where he slips his tongue along yours- the sensation one you've grown used to from the slovenly kisses leading up to this very night. You give Namjoon permission to sneak his large hands underneath your shirt, trailing up your ribcage before swallowing your breasts whole in his heated palms. Nipples so sensitive, your heat drenches the moment he realizes the effect it has on you just by merely brushing the rising buds, lipping at your neck while he basks in the beauty of your moans. "More," you beg, "Please, Joon, more." When clothes start to be thrown off, you're determined to pleasure him, but have not an idea on how to do so. "Show me," you breathlessly demand, Namjoon's palm leading yours to encircle his twitching being. You stroke his erection as shown, biting your lower lip from the throbbing feeling of your core- him instantly finding your entrance to fill it with his fingers as carefully as he can- both of you pleasuring each other, yet still getting lost in kissing so deeply, the two of you forget to gasp for air. The sensation of heated pressed bare skin can be the most beautiful thing, especially with the way your legs entangle with his. You're surprised the feel of his prodding fingers didn't bring as much discomfort as you would have originally anticipated, but when he brings a hand to his penis, he rubs his tip along your slit letting the sloppy sound of you leak onto it. "Holy shit," he moans from how soaked you are for him- his fingertips finding your clit while yours dig into the backs of his shoulders.

Smoldering kisses move from your lips to your breasts, down your abdomen to your inner thighs where you tense underneath his touch that slides to hold your bottom half where he can scan your heat. The tip of his tongue swipes upon your slit excruciatingly slow to the point your fingers tangle with the material of the bedsheets. The smacking sound of his lips savor your taste while his tongue circles your core- you're hyperventilating from how deliciously he flicks his tongue upon your slit, screaming his name relentlessly- the speed of his skilled mouth driving you wild from the growing climax beckoning your stiffening thighs, "Oh, Namjoon, oh- Joon- I- Oh!"

He's not ready for you to finish because there's more he wants to show you. Hovering above you once again to see you coming down from your high, your heaving chest longs for his touch, and he nearly comes undone from the smile embellishing your face. His tracing fingertips parade along the outline of your body in featherlike tickles while the sounds of panting breaths mingle with shifting sheets bring subtle music to your ears for the rest of the night. The gentle parting of his lips grasps your own in smooth movements persuading arousal streaming from your core. Your fingers now link with frilly tufts of his hair, gripping the strands in reaction to the pressing of his bare chest to yours, dreaming of nothing more than to be entwined with him for what you hope will be forever. Hips grinding into yours prompts the light moan teasing his ears for more before his mouth trails to pause above your pounding heart. His hair brushing your chin, your arms glide to wrap around him holding the hope that he will never let you go. Not even for a second.

"Alright, one more! Almost done! Push!"

Sucking in one long breath, with a compulsory scream, you push with all you have left in you. Exhaustion weakens your limbs, yet a rush of relief floods your body when the cries of an infant reverberate within the room. With heavy eyes, you turn to see your mother with tears cascading down her face and onto the back of her hand covering her agape mouth- eyes remaining locked in front of her. Taehyung's gaze doesn't drop though his fingers loosen from yours at the small bundle immediately apprehending the eyes of every individual. Right then, you move your head to your other side where Namjoon gradually rises in awe- his hand still has yours. Gathering any ounce of strength, you're ready to see the child you've been waiting to hold for nine months, so cautiously you sit up until your stare meets Dr. Seokjin's. You can see the smile in his eyes despite the mouth mask, and what he says next brings you to tears, "It's a girl,"

"Oh!" You thrill, anxious to meet her while the nurses scurry to clean her up.

"Sir, would you like to do the honors?" The doctor gestures a pair of scissors towards a stiffened Namjoon whose eyes are welled with hushed tears. He can't even speak, yet he nods from the happiness exploding beneath his chest.

"Wait," Your mom says, "Is- is?"

It's a moment that seems to fit the setting for your father walks in, as if on cue, shoulders slumped from the anticipating tension now darkening the room. Taehyung's shoulders tensed at the sight of the man he despises, but for the sake of you, Namjoon and his Godchild, he keeps his composure enough to ignore the elephant now standing in the room. The fear that used to consume you upon your dad unraveling the truth about your secret vacates you when you know that you and the two men present can conquer anything.

"Yes," the answer is to your mother, but your stern glower of warning is only connected with your dad's although your mother's stare remains on you, "Namjoon is the father."

Namjoon stands with pride while he accepts the pair of scissors from Dr. Seokjin- your father, with a shocked expression, watches as the man he hired happens to be the same man who stole his daughter's heart without his knowledge. Yet, he refrains from anger, because who is he to ruin such a precious moment about to unfold here?

Pictures are taken of Namjoon cutting the umbilical cord, his fingers gently rubbing his daughter's cheek while he wipes at the tears dripping from his eyes. Jungkook takes her into his arms to weigh her before wrapping her in a plush pink blanket, "She is seven pounds and five ounces,"

Endless joy envelops your heart from the scene playing out before you; especially, when the vision of your father's quivering chin, admiring his granddaughter leaves you speechless along with the hope of redemption entering your beating heart.

"Are you ready to hold her?" Monnie's kind eyes match her smile when she touches your arm.

"Yes," you stifle a sob, "I want to hold her,"

Monnie poses her arms to where Jungkook places your daughter, Monnie guardedly turns to rest your baby into your arms. Her small face chortles, her eyes closing while she puckers her tiny lips. "She's so perfect," you cry, love in all its beauty falling from your eyes while you watch your daughter's fingers fold individually upon her chest.

"Just like you," Namjoon whispers, locking eyes with you before inching forward to give you a loving kiss.

"I love you, Joon," you whisper, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth.

"I love you, too."

"Uh," the deep serenade of your best friend interrupts, all attention abruptly turning to see him raise an index finger in the air, "So, as the Godfather, I must ask a very serious question," the room chuckles along with him as they patiently wait for his request, "What's her name?"

"Ah," you nod, realizing that hasn't been made known to anyone other than to yourself. Your mother steps forward to place her hand upon your shoulder while your father keeps his distance enough to not cause any trouble- though the two of you share a small smile to let him know all is well. Namjoon watches you in admiration- the woman of his dreams holding his child in her arms while facing her deepest fear yet holds her head with pride about the man she will spend the rest of her life with along with her daughter swaddled to her chest. You are everything he's ever longed for and more, and he's ready to defeat any storm in life if it's with you and his daughter.

To answer Tae's question though, you return to face him, tears gathering in exhilarating bliss.

"Taejun." Her eyes slightly open at the hearing of her name as a tiny smile adorns her lips,

"Her name is Kim Taejun."

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wannabemobwife · 3 years

Text

Guns, Glamour, and Goodfellas - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: A Little Party Never Killed Nobody

Dad!Mob!Tom Holland x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x reader, Parker Holland x Charlotte Owens

-Warnings: Language, Blood, Death, Fighting

-Words: 3.6K

Author note: I really love this chapter. I love all the comments and would appreciate nice constructive criticism (please don't butcher my work lol) if you want. Feel free to leave in the comments or message me directly your feelings while reading the chapter :))

Chapter 3: A Little Party Never Killed Nobody

Word: 3.6K

“Haz are you okay mate?” Tom asked, seeing Haz freak out, they were about to land at Heathrow, on their way back from Dublin.

“No, I just heard from my neighbor that Henry never came home last night. With everything that happened yesterday, I’m just worried. I hope he is not lying in a ditch somewhere.” Harrison explained.

“He probably crashed at ours, everything will be ok.” You said as you comforted Haz. Oh boy, were you wrong.

Back at home, Parker awoke to his impending death once you and Tom, his parents’, find out what happened to their beautiful mansion. One party did all this damage. The curtains were torn down, there was red party cups everywhere and all the liquor bottles were displayed on the table. One amazingly epic party did all that.

“Bloody hell! That’s it I’m dead. I’m dead. I will never be allowed to leave this house ever again.” Parker said to himself. Picking up his phone he noticed 4 missed calls from you. Each one had a message and if there was one thing he knew about you is that you only left more harsh and frantic voice messages the more you called.

He only played the most recent one, you sounded really peeved “PARKER JACKSON HOLLAND! Please call me, I’m worried about you. I can’t get in touch with the staff either. I will be home in 20 mins, you better have a good fucking explanation for everything.” Parker’s eyes nearly flew out of his head when he saw that was sent 15 mins ago. Any moment now he would hear the Rolls pulling into the driveway.

The poor kid could only move so fast, he quickly gathered the liquor bottles and threw them into a plastic trash bag along with all the red solo cups that seem to be multiplying. All the meanwhile corralling all the squatters, from last night, who crashed there. He found some people by the pool and others passed out in the dining room. Running like a madman through the house, he caught a glimpse of what would be the reason for his demise. The door to Tom’s office was open. He swore to god he locked it, someone must’ve broken in. They could’ve taken anything, all the information about the mob was stored in that one tastefully decorated room. Parker quickly shut the door and hoped nothing would happen, he couldn’t live with himself if this one stupid party cost his family their livelihood.

“Rosie? Henry? Where are you guys? Mum and dad will be home any minute, I need your help.” Parker called out throughout the house. He didn’t expect Rosie to show up because of their fight last night, but where the fuck was Henry.

You and Tom pulled up along with Harrison in the black Rolls Royce, coming to a screeching halt. You all walked along the cobble stone path to the two large, intimidating front doors. You all simultaneously freaked out when you saw the door was ajar. Tom and Haz pulled out their guns and made it a priority to keep you safe by shoving you behind them. You all had no idea what you could be walking into.

Tom whispered to Haz to split up, Haz took the East Wing while Tom checked the main rooms. Rounding the corner he could her footsteps.

“Darling, stay behind me. I don’t want you getting hurt,” Tom whispered and you nodded in response.

“On the count of 3. 1, 2, 3,” Tom screamed as he jumped out, holding his gun straight ahead. He found his son disheveled, carrying grocery bags filled with empty beer cans and liquor bottles.

“DON’T SHOOT! DON’T SHOOT! Holy fuck! Dad is that you?” Parker screamed, dropping the bags to the ground, glass shattering and raising his hand up in innocence. Scared for his life her quickly caught his breath when he realized who it was.

“Parker, what the hell? Why the fuck was the door opened…. wait? Did you have a party!?!” Tom thundered as he realized what his son did. His voice gradually growing more furious. Parker just stood there with a shameful look on his face.

“Mum, dad. How was Dublin?” Parker sneaked to quickly change the subject.

“Don’t try to get out this, explain now!” You scolded, just as furious as Tom

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did it, I just needed to blow off steam.” “What the fuck do you think a sorry is going to do? I run a fucking mob, Parker. Are you a fucking idiot? Parker, for fucks sake, anyone could have stolen some information from my office or gotten into the gun room. What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I’m not that much of a div, I locked your office and I don’t know,” Parker explained.

“You’re not as dumb as I thought. Hope you were smart enough to lock the liquor cellar too,” Tom concluded.

“Yeah…about that,” Parker mumbled as Tom ran off to his liquor room. A loud clash and curse sounded throughout the house when he laid his eyes on his ransacked priceless collection.

“Mum, say something?” Parker pleaded with you as you just stood there in silence.

“2 months. You’re grounded for 2 months. No dates or parties, just school and home. I don’t think you understand how lucky you are that nothing serious happened here.” You said, your voice drenched with disappointment. “I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking about what dad and you asked me and —” Parker whispered as he was soon cut off by Haz walking in.

“Did you find Henry?” Haz interrupted.

“No, I’m going to check upstairs. Will you check on Tom?” Harrison nodded as you ascended the staircase. Making your way through the halls, coming upon Rosie’s room.

“Roo, honey you awake?” You said walking into Rosie’s room

“AHHHH! Oh my fucking god! Rosie!” You screamed at the sight in front of you. Your sweet, slightly bad tempered daughter asleep with a boy in her bed.

“Darling? You alright?” Tom yelled from downstairs after hearing your scream.

“Mum, what are you doing here?” Rosie exclaimed frantically.

“Hi, Y/N.” Henry whispered, praying he wasn’t going to be berated. You were a mother figure to him after his own mother left his father and never looked back. “This is my house and hi Henry. What the fuck is Henry doing here in you bed? What the fuck are you doing here?” You questioned bouncing between the two of them to get some answers.

“I can explain. But, firstly are you gonna tell dad?” Rosie inquired.

“The fact that he is already fuming downstairs, no. Not right now. And please explain, you have 5 seconds, but first you need to get Henry out of here.”

“Thank you mom, I just don’t —.“

“Ehh, eh, eh! Shut it, I’ll deal with you later,” you barked.

“Henry, I suggest you take the window and your dad is looking for you,” you said.

“Shit! Thanks Y/N… I mean Mrs. Holland” Henry said as you shot him a glare.

The moment Henry was in the clear, Tom barged in with his gun in hand. Someone needs to tell this man to put it down. All morning he has been traumatically scarring his kids for life, first with Parker and now Rosie.

“What? Is everyone all right? I heard a scream.” Tom exclaimed out of breath.

“Umm, yeah. I just saw a spider.” You stuttered.

“Oh love, you can kill a man in cold blood but can’t handle an itty bitty spider,” Tom joked as he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“You're afraid of them too, Thomas.” You quipped with a side eye. If looks could kill, yours definitely would.

“And for you missy, you’re grounded along with your brother.” Tom said, looking down on Rosie. “Me? What did I do?” Rosie asked in a high pitched voice. “You attended this party correct? And since this is also your house, you threw it by association. Am I right?” Tom inquired.

“I guess so,” Rosie huffed.

The twin’s exile was worse than they prepared for. Not only were they responsible for cleaning up the entire mess but they were given a list of chores to complete. This was no ordinary list. It was devised by you and Tom along with inputs from the maids and capos.

On it read:

Wash the Rolls

Clean the guns

Reorganize the pantry

Mow the lawn

Re-order all stolen liquor and stock the liquor room

Drain the pool, clean the pool, fill the pool back up again…

The list was never-ending. Each task more pointless than the next. It went on forever. The household staff was happy for their load was to be lessen for a couple weeks, unlike the kids. Harrison even forced Henry to partake in the chores.

The kids were only a couple days into their quarantine and were already going stir crazy. Parker was having withdrawals from Charlotte, missing her even more. The boy was whipped for her, really smitten. They would talk the night away. Some nights never getting any shut eye as their conversations would prolong hours.

Parker couldn’t believe this was where he was now. One night of unadulterated juvenile fun equated to 2 months of misery. Today was Charlotte’s birthday and he was supposed to take her to the London Eye on a surprise birthday trip, but all his plans were ruined the moment his parents came home and grounded his sorry ass.

“I can’t believe your parents grounded you. Assholes.” Charlotte said over the phone, fuming he couldn’t celebrate with her.

“I can’t go babe. I really wish I could but I’m grounded for life remember.” Parker said, the cold shoulder Tom and you had been giving him was killing him.

“Parker its my birthday. You have to come,” Charlotte pleaded

“There’s no chance in hell I’m allowed to leave.”

“Geez you just threw a party, it’s not like you killed someone,” Charlotte added. He might as well have. If he killed someone he wouldn’t be burdened with this punishment, probably praised instead, carrying on the family tradition.

“Just sneak out. Come on, we are all going to this nightclub downtown. It’s gonna be awesome. And I’m such a good girlfriend, I can’t let you miss it.” Charlotte pleaded.

“Alright, Char you wore me down.”

“I knew it. Pick you up at 11 tonight.”

“Park around the block, I’m going to have to climb out my window. Remember my house is like a fortress.” Parker said. He wasn’t lying.

Meanwhile, Tom was in and out of meetings in his office all day. He received one odd phone call in particular from his dad, Dominic Holland. “Hi dad, how are you” Tom said as he picked up the phone.

“I’m fine son, so how did the talk with Parker go. I’m excited to teach him all my mobster tricks,” Dom exclaimed. “Actually dad, he reacted like I did.”

“Oh well, he will come around just like you did” Dom said encouragingly.

“I don’t know if he will. Anyway it wouldn’t be so bad if he had his own path in life.” Tom murmured trying to stick up for his son’s decision.

“Tom, you know what will happen to this family if that happens,” Dom yelled.

“I know dad. I just don’t want him to feel trapped, like you did to me,” Tom exclaimed growing more annoyed by the minute.

“What I did to you got you to where you are today. Your life is thanks to me son and don’t you forget it,” Dom said with a stern, menacing voice.

“Understood sir,” Tom quipped. “Maybe Parker needs a push, in the right direction.” “Dad, I swear to god, don’t fucking do anything. Y/N and I are handling this” Tom yelled. “We’ll see how that turns out” Dom ended the phone call. Leaving Tom frustrated that his father sees him as his own puppet.

The night soon fell and Parker’s plan had been put into motion. He bribed a few of the Tom’s men with his allowance to let him sneak past. He jumped out the window, carefully walked on the roof as to not slip and make any noise. Finally on the ground, he scaled the iron fence to be met with Charlotte’s ice blue eyes. She was dressed in a pink party dress that hugged her figure perfectly.

“Wow princess, you look *chef’s kiss. Happy birthday baby,” Parker said while making his way back to the ground.

“Thanks doll. Now come on, before someone catches us,” she yelled whilst hopping into her silver Mercedes.

Arriving at the nightclub, everything was in full swing for 11 o’clock at night. Parker, Charlotte and her other friends were treated like royalty the moment Parker let his name slip.

“Right this way Mr. Holland and I will have someone bring you a bottle of champagne, on the house of course,” the hostess said as she sat them at their table.

“Oooo fancy, you should drop your name more often,” Charlotte whispered in Parker’s ear.

“Oh it was nothing, love.” Parker said while pouring himself and Charlotte a glass of bubbly. “Seriously Parker, how’d you do this? If I didn’t know any better I’d say your dad owned the club or something,” Charlotte said dumbfounded, causing Parker to choke on his champagne at her remark.

It was amazing what power could do. Having enough power to make your enemies disappear was unimaginable. Parker knew what turning down his father meant. He would have the name and the look of a Holland, but he wouldn’t be one anymore.

How could he give all that up. He enjoyed his cushy lifestyle. Sure it was day after day of worrying about your image but, he felt as though he belonged in that world. How could he go on being a kid for two more years knowing there was a metaphorical expiration date on his life.

He desperately wanted to want to be like them, his family. You, his mother, are the strongest person he knows. Having you in his life keeps him grounded, literally at the moment. Also his dad, Tom is a very loving and amazing father. He was there at all the football games (English football) cheering him on and at the spelling bees, also when he felt his first heartbreak, Tom was there.

Family has been the one constant in his life. Now it was being eclipsed by power, a power that could ruin lives or affect change. Turning his back on his family means they would never get see his future.

No one would be there at his graduation from college or when he first child was born, only Charlotte would be there. The girl he hoped to marry and have his kids. He couldn’t give up his future with her, no way. Parker eyes glanced at her, mesmerized by her beauty. He thought to himself, “This was it. This, she is all I’ll ever need, my princess.”

Most of Parker’s pet names for Charlotte were derived from Tom. He had heard his dad refer to his mother as: princess, queen, doll, darling, love. The list goes on. As long as Parker had his princess he knew he would be ok.

They danced the night away. Song after song. Feeling like the only two people in the room. Getting more drunk as the night progressed and other guests started to fizzle out. Leaving Charlotte and Parker alone on the dance floor.

“Char, I think it’s about time we head home. We are the only people left,”

Parker chuckled.

“Just two more songs please,” she muttered with her head nuzzled by his neck.

“It’s two hours til sunrise!” Parker exclaimed.

“Just a little while longer, I don’t want this moment to end.” “Me neither baby, I want to stay in your arms forever” Parker said. In a moment of love, coupled with champagne and a few tequila shots, Parker whispered, “We should get married.”

“What? Are you serious? Do you mean now or in like 5 years?” Charlotte asked as her voice slowly diminished

“Umm… yes and now. I love you,” Parker murmured. “YES! I will marry you!” Charlotte exclaimed pulling her boyfriend into a deep, passionate kiss. Parker’s dream was coming true and all he had to do was leave his family.

Just then a group of tall, stocky men, all dressed in black, funneled through the door of the club. They didn’t bother with sitting down, they just stood there blocking the only exit.

One of the men spoke up, “Parker Holland? I have a message for you.”

“Can’t it wait til morning, just tell him I’m sorry and he can ground me even longer,” Parker replied thinking the message was from Tom.

“It’s not that kind of message,” all the noise drifted away as the other man drew his gun. Both Charlotte and Parker grew tense at the sight of his pistol.

“Charlotte, get behind me,” Parker whispered, scared for both their lives.

“Boy, it’s not from your daddy,” said the leader of the men. “Do you know who my father is? He will have all of your heads if you so as much lay a finger on me,” Parker responded

“So the girl is up for grabs?” “Charlotte, RUN!” Parker Screamed

“Eh, not so fast. I’m going to enjoy this one.” The guy said, seizing Charlotte in his grip and motioning for this associates to grab Parker. Two arms holding Parker back from protecting Charlotte.

“LET GO OF ME! CHARLOTTE!”

“Why you hanging out this rift raft? I’m sorry but he needs to atone for his mistakes.” “Parker..” Charlotte whimpered.

“Such a pretty girl and such a waste” the man snickered as he pressed the gun into her abdomen. Tears slipped down her face as she felt the cool metal against her.

BANG

It was the shot heard round the room. Everything stood quiet as Charlotte collapsed to the floor. The leader of the men shouted he need a drink. “NOOOOO! ” Parker screamed as he was let go and raced to Charlotte’s side

“Hey, hey, baby look at me. Look at me,” Parker said as tears flooded down his face.

“I’m sorry, we should’ve left.” Charlotte whispered with labored breaths while blood poured out of her wound. “Baby, you have nothing to be sorry for.” Parker cried while rubbing his thumb on her cheek. Blood pooled around them and he could only be focused on one thing, the love of his life dying in his arms. “Parker, it hurts so much,” Charlotte cried. The pain was mind-numbing. Threatening the life inside her.

“I know, love. Just keep your eyes on me love, keep’em open”

“I’m so tired Parker… I want my last words to you to be I love you. I love you ok? So much.” she whispered, then broke into a coughing fit. Blood filling her mouth and running down her chin, scaring Parker.

“Don’t, don’t fucking start that now you, hear me. You’re gonna be fine, we’re gonna get married and have kids and grow old together,” Parker exclaimed as her eyes threatened to shut.

“You said yes, Char. You have to be okay. You said yes. I asked you to marry me and you said yes.” Parker cried as tears refused to stop coming. Charlotte’s eyes growing more and more to a close.

“Please, don’t leave me baby. Charlotte don’t leave me. Don’t fucking close your eyes. You hear me. Don’t.” And with that, the hand Parker held so close to his heart was limp. Her eyes had closed and heart stopped beating. She was gone.

“No! No, no no, hey hey hey, come on, come on baby stay with me. Stay with me please.”

“Wake up, darling. Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Just come back to me baby. , I need you,” Parker whimpered. He burst into a fit of sobs and hugged her close to his body, not wanting to let her go because then it all became real.

The woman who changed his life, no longer walked this earth. The love of his life was gone. All the bubbling life inside of her, vanished like it had never existed in the first place. Parker’s demeanor flipped like a switch. His sadness became infused with anger, he was out for blood.

“You bastards! Why did you do that? She had nothing to do with this?” Parker thundered as blood coated his knuckles. “I’m sorry kid, but it had to be done” The leader spoke.

In a fit of rage, Parker grabbed the empty champagne bottle and smashed it over one of the guy’s heads, knocking the muscular guy unconscious.

“Big mistake, kid. Thought you were smarter than that.” The leader said as he stood in front of Parker and delivered him a swift punch to the jaw, flooring Parker.

“She really wasn’t enough of a message? Want her death to be in vain?” He spat as he kicked Parker in the stomach.

Several kicks followed, two more to the stomach, one to the groin and one final blow to the head, demobilizing Parker. He laid on the ground coughing up blood, trying to gather enough strength to get home.

He looked once more over to the girl he had loved, lifeless with a whole in stomach, knowing if it weren’t for him she would still be alive. Charlotte was the only thing on his mind as he succumbed to all the pain and everything faded to darkness.

Guns, Glamour, and Goodfellas Series Masterlist

Taglist: @thenoddingbunny-blog @adriannauni @dummiesshort

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland mob au #tom holland au #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #Dad!Mob!Tom Holland #Mob!Tom #mobster #Mob!tom holland x reader #mob!tom x reader

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dustysandwiches · 3 years

Text

Family (TMVSTM)

Summary: Eric and Deborahbot 5000 feels like they didn't belong with the The Mitchells and run away to live their own lives

"Purple glasses woman, why did you saved me?"

"Oh come on, you boys are family now"

Family…?

It is such a complex word, too difficult to truly understand. For a robot create just to following orders, Eric did not understand it yet, though he did looked up the definition of it but despite that he plays along for the sake of his and his Pal Max brother

They're heading to the Silicon Valley, The night sky is filled with no stars but the green "fun pots" containing human to somewhere. It makes the sky lights up with green light. It is an unusual sight even for robots.

The Mitchells are really going to destroy Pal?.... If so, what will happen to the remaining robots? What if..they failed..?

The bot are lost in his memories and Net Work to find something he's looking for. It seems like he's in too deep in the system Until he feels someone shaking his shoulder part lighty

"Eric...Eric, are you there? Is your system too damaged?" A voice speaks in hushed tone

Eric turn his mechanical head to another Pal Max bot, Deborahbot 5000

His brother

"What wrong? you've been so still like you shut down. I'm…. worry"

Deborah grip Eric's shoulder part lighty. Robots isn't supposed to have feelings but they're the defective now anyway, so it's not surprising that he would express what he "feels"

The car stop at some abandoned gas station. Only Katie, Aaron and the loft of bread are sleeping in the car at the moment. Mother and The male Mitchells are inside the store for something. Eric finally answered and grip Deborah's hand back

"I'm okay, my system and outside damage is unchange at the moment. I'm sorry I didn't acknowledge your question earlier. Don't need to be worry"

"Okay… but tell me if anything is acting strange, will you? I don't want to lose you, brother...We're only defective robots here, if you're gone, what am I going to do?"

"I'll always have your back like you have mine, brother. We are going to survive, one way or another"

Eric tells what he thinks is logical to his robo brother. He let go of Deborah's hand and turned his head to Mother, who's making her way back to the car with her partner and tells her the safest route to Silicon Valley.

The car is running along the road at night. The robo brothers looking outside of the car, expanding their data about the human environment and hearing the conversation between Katie and Mother. They're talking about The male Mitchells, Rick of how he's just trying to make her happy.

Eric wants to feel this "happy" too and he wants Deborah to feel the same. Maybe it would feel really nice, like getting their system updated.

But how could they do that? They're about to went through most protected head quarter in the world right now and there's no guarantee that the plan would work but the show must go on

"Mom, what is that?"

"Oh my god!!"

The car suddenly stops, making their head jerks back, Eric and Deborah turn their heads to the front window. As the Mitchells get out of the car to stand in front of the giant building as tall as the sky.

"We're here...the Head Quarter" Eric said as he's getting out of the trunk

"Oh boy, I don't like this. Do you think we could get to the top without others noticing?" Deborah ask, stepping beside Eric in front of the car, behind the Mitchells

Slowly, Eric extends his hand to the side to his brother, knob and gears whirring while he processes his next word. Deborah immediately holds his hand and they're both looking up to the tower.

"No matter what happens, we're going to be alright"

__________________________________

The plan did not go well. The Mitchells got caught by a new robot, Pal invented. The sounds of the alarm is almost deafening, after the cable car has fell down and crashed. Deborah's vision is trying to adjust after he hits the ground. The first thing he see is the face of Pal Max bot with some face drawn on.

"Are you alright, brother?" Eric said as worrying as his robotic voice could spunds while kneeling next to him

Before he could answer, The black robot burst through and captured Mother and Rick. The Mitchells is being taken away and Deborah knows he need to help

Because they're his family now too

"Mitchells, we will help"

"Oh no no no, you won't. download new order"

Suddenly, like the virus creeping through their system. Making the robo brothers clutch their head like they're in pain, unable to take control of their body any longer.

New order appears : Capture the Mitchells

Deborah trying to break free one last time

No please I don't want to do this. Eric, Mother, Anyone…Can you hear me?..

"We're sorry, Mother"

Then, everything went blank

__________________________________

"Let's take a photo after we saved the world!" Linda said cheerily to Eric after handing or rather putting it in his hand

The battle is over the human won and the uprising is over. All of the Pal Max and the new robot has been shut down, Well almost every bot.

Eric and Deborahbot 5000 have broken through Pal's control and helped Rick Mitchells to put the video of the bread dog on, neutralizing the other robots. Now they're celebrating without them

They broke the code and helped this family save the world and now they can't even be in a photo? Eric thought but took the photo anyway. Maybe they're just too excited like humans always does.

The Mitchells tell the brothers, they can stay at home with them as a member of the family. The Mitchells welcome them, Linda teaches Deborah how to draw stuff like the Sun, the tree and other things. Rick shows them how to build a shelter from branches and leaves. Arron always talks to them about dinosaurs in his books and Katie sometimes asks them for ideas for her project. It was a good time.

Time passes and the robo brothers feels like they're more like a servant than a family. The Mitchells tells them to do things for them like chores, collecting the mails, mow the lawn and many things. Most of the time they haven't called them by their names or acknowledge them when they do something for the Mitchells. At first the brothers gladly do them, thinking it was a part of being a family but this time they had enough.

At night, when everyone is asleep. Eric and Deborah sit on a rooftop, looking into the sky. The moon is full today, shining bright along millions of sparkling stars. They come here every time they want to say something they went through each day, like updating each other. Today is different

"Today Rick called me Robot instead of my name again, I don't really think it's from force habits anymore" Deborah speaks in a quiet voice, mechanical head looks up to the shooting stars, then to his brother.

"But at least Mother let me help her cook dinner! It was really interesting, I learned how to peel a potato today, Look!"

He grabbed the potato peels besides him and held up to his brother. It's ragged, uneven and still has a big chunk of potato attached to it. Eric chuckles in a monotone like his robotic voice always does.

"That's great, Deborah. You know today Mother also let me do the laundry too! There was a lot of foam but I think I did well, Mother's face looks so surprised when I tell her I also put her bag in there too. She rushed past me so fast, I can't even see her"

"The purple bag? Oh yes, she loves that bag. Very thoughtful, Eric."

Then Deborah held out his hand, attempt to high-five Eric but they kept missing each other's hands, so they tapped their heads together gently. The glass tink softly as they did.

They looked up to the sky again, thinking about their lives with the Mitchells. Of how they've been treated lately, how they've been struggling to fit in the family and how they feel like they've been ignored.

Eric broke the silence between them and speaks in a quiet voice, hands gripping his knees tighter.

"Making our own order is great, we can do everything we want now"

Deborah nods " but why do I feel like we're doing The Mitchells order everyday"

"I understand if they haven't felt comfortable with us but they should have told us and we can be somewhere else. Not…. keeping us servants..like this.."

He looked back at Eric and asked in a hushed voice, if a robot can cry tears, his voice would be shaking like a human...but he's not human.

“I wonder if there’s any bots like us.. You know, the defectives. What are they up to? Where are they now? Do they stay with humans like us?”

“I don’t know, brother. I don’t know. I guess Pal wasn’t prepared for anything like this. She didn’t put any program for tracking other bots for us.”

“We should go find them. That way we can have our own robots family! We don’t have to listen to any humans anymore!

Deborah grab his brother shoulders part, turn his body to face him and said firmly

“You say it yourself, Eric. We take our own orders now. This is the time we can truly do that. Don’t you see? Other Mitchells except Mother didn’t treat us very well. They call us Robots rather than our names. They give orders. They got angry when we didn’t complete what they requested. They didn’t acknowledge us most of the time like we aren’t right there!”

His voice drop low and finally he hugs his brother, a gesture he saw human does to their family and the one they cared for

“We did everything together...but we’re just in the background every time..We aren’t supposed to feel emotions but I do...”

Slowly, Eric lifts his hand and hugs back tightly, mechanical gear and wires clicking as he thinks about his brother's words.

It’s true. They were in the background most of the time. They were more like a maid robot than a member of a family like the Mitchells said. Maybe his brother was right, this is not where they truly belong. They need to get away from humans. For good this time.

“You’re right. We should go”

Eric let go of his brother and stand up. Looking into the distant city, held out his hand for Deborah. They will make their own future with others, if there are any more of them left.

“Let’s go say our goodbye to the Mitchells. Though they may have treated us like this but they still help us from Pal.”

“Should we leave a letter or something?”

“If you want to, we can. Oh oh! We should put the glitter on!”

Together, they jump down from the rooftops and go inside the house. Writing a goodbye letter for the Mitchells, telling them they appreciated everything they did but they want to live their own lives somewhere else without anyone giving them orders

After sometime, they put the letter down at the dinner table with a flower Eric collected from the neighbor's house, The Poseys.

Now, the brothers stand in front of the house. Looking back one last time before leaving.

"Let's go, brother" Eric said.

_________________________________________

The sounds of the jet under their feet break the silence of the night. They jump and fly into the sky, green trails from the jet painting the night sky. They fly and fly further away from the house. Until the dawn came, they stopped at some abandoned cabin in the woods. It appears there's nobody living here for a long time.

"This place is in a good condition and I believe there's no human living here." Deborah said, feeling satisfied

"Yes, but we should look around just in case. Could you check around the cabin? I'll check inside." Eric asked while looking around and scanning the cabin with the camera on the top right of his head.

Deborah nods and goes out the door to check for anything or anyone. Leaving only Eric inside.

Eric wanders into the halls, scanning every room. The cabin is dusty and there were some traces of wild animals making a nest and shelter. Some kind of nuts and leaves were scattered all over the floor.Everything seems normal for an abandoned human cabin, until he spotted muddy footprints. It’s still wet, this only means one thing. There’s someone here.

The sound of a metal clanking from further down the cabin. It appears the sounds came from the kitchen. Eric changes one of his hand to the plasma beam shooter, being on guard and slowly walking to the origin of the sound.

#the mitchells vs the machines #My fantasy #Family (TMVSTM)#part 1

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melanieph321 · 9 months

Text

Facundo Pellistri - Strike Again Chapter 5

Summary - The summer slowly passes and Pellistri returns to school, but things aren't same as before. He is still grieving the death of his father and struggles to fit in with his peers and football…football is the last thing on his mind during this time.

Enjoy!

The summer went as follows: Despite the nice weather Pellistri stayed inside playing video games. If he did go outside it was because he went to mow someone's lawn. He mowed a total of 27 lawns that summer, including the families of the peoples graves he ruined at the cemetery. Pellistri blames Gracie and Dirk Willy for the ringing in his left ear. It was probably going to stay with him for the rest of his life. They helped him out, Gracie and Dirk Willy. Why? Pellistri had no idea, however he didn't mind the company, especially not Gracie's. At the end of the summer her family traveled back to her home country to see some relatives. Pellistri barely left the house during this time and as the first day of school arrived all he could think about was when he was going to see Gracie again.

Pellestri came downstairs to the sight of his mother making him breakfast, however, something was wrong with her, with her zombie-like behavior towards him. She was going back to work, which was a good thing, no?

"Mom, you alright?" He came up behind her, planting a swift kiss on her cheek.

"Oh, hi cariño, how was your first day of school?"

"It hasn't happened yet?" He chuckled, although alarmed. But the doorbell rang and distracted him from his thoughts.

"Will you get that, it's probably your…."

"It's Dirk Willy '' He said and crouched down behind the kitchen Island. "Close the curtains mom, otherwise he'll see us."

His mother looked down on him and frowned.

"Please." He begged. "He's probably gonna ask if we can walk together to school."

"And what's wrong with that?"

"Nothing." Pellsitri has worked hard to convince himself that it wasn't because of Dirk Willy's disabilities that he didn't want to be seen with him. It was simply a burden to be in his presence. It was like keeping an eye on a toddler, making sure that he didn't put himself in danger. Pellistri hated this feeling of responsibility.

"I'll go get it then." His mother said, leaving him in the kitchen.

"Mami noo!" Pellistri rose from his hiding place, taking a seat around the kitchen table. There he anticipated Dirk Willy's entrance, however he was in for a surprise.

"El niño!!!"

"Uncle Rodrigo?" His heart leaped with joy when he saw his favorite uncle, Rodrigo, standing in the kitchen doorway, a wide smile on his face.

"Pellistri, mi sobrino!" His uncle gestured for his nephew to hurry up and give him a hug. Pellistri did so, allowing himself to be crushed in his uncle's iron embrace.

"¿Qué pasa hombre?"

"¿Qué pasa conmigo, qué pasa contigo? What are you doing here?"

When they moved to England Pellistri had been urged by his parents to speak English even in the house, this way learning the languages faster. But with his uncle's arrival the Spanish flowed out of him with ease.

"What do you mean, why am I here?" His uncle frowned. "I'm here to be with my favorite nephew of course….and my beautiful sister."

Pellisitri's mother reentered the room. She had gotten rid of the gray bags underneath her eyes and she no longer walked around in a bathrobe. However, her skin was pale and her eyes in a foggy daze.

"Mom, are you sure you're good to go back to work today?" He asked.

"Of course she is!" His uncle exclaimed. "Vamos, I'll drive you there."

"B…but I haven't had my breakfast yet."

"I'll get you breakfast on the road niño. Who knew you still ate like the chubby kid that you were as a child." His uncle laughed, a warm laugh, that lifted something heavy in the room.

"Mom?"

His mother gave him a reassuring smile, her hand caressing his cheek. "I'm fine cariño, let's go with your uncle."

Pellstri walked through the corridors of his school, the familiar scent of textbooks and the sound of students chattering filled the air. He was glad to be back. A school like his allowed the combination of academics and sports. This way Pellistri was able to combine his football training with his studies. As he approached the sports field, where his football team would usually gather, he couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension. He wondered how his teammates would react to him, now that they had all read about the horrific tragedy that had befallen his family. Would they pity him? Or worse, would they treat him differently?

Pushing open the door leading to the locker rooms, Pellistri was greeted by the boisterous laughter of his teammates. The sound echoed throughout the room as they exchanged jokes and talked excitedly about their upcoming matches this year. However, as soon as they caught sight of Pellstri, the room fell silent. His teammates turned to face him, their expressions filled with a mix of concern and relief. It was clear that they had all read the article, yet their stance hinted towards understanding rather than pity. Pellstri took a deep breath, ready to face their questions or sympathies head-on.

"Hey Pellistri!" shouted Marco, the team captain, breaking the silence with a broad smile. "So glad you're back, man! We missed you on the field during the preseason!"

The tension lifted instantly, replaced by a warmth that enveloped Pellstri. He couldn't help but crack a smile, relieved by his teammates' genuine happiness. They embraced him, patting his back and exchanging stories of their recent games. Pellstri had missed all the preseason once due to his weak ankle. However he had no worries that he would get back into full fitness sooner than later.

"I heard you and Lisa hooked up over the summer." Marco said, as the two of them changed into their sports gear.

"She told you that?"

"Man, you know how Lisa is. She told everyone."

Marco slapped him on the back. "Would I've known that she was giving it up that easily, I would also have given up my spot at the summer camp, am I right?"

Pellistri could only nod in response. No one would have given up their spot to join the best players in the world at Manchester United's summer youth camp. Not even Marco, who was only accepted as a reserve at the camp due to the tragic events that struck Pellistri's family.

He would have to talk to Lisa, Pellistri thought. That would stop her from spreading rumors about him. Rumors that he didn't want Gracie to hear about.

The team's coach entered the locker room with an air of excitement. He was known for his stern demeanor, but to everyone's surprise, he had a glimmer of anticipation in his eyes.

"Boys," he began, his voice filled with both thrill and seriousness, "I have some news that will surely give you chills." Pellistri and the others exchanged curious glances, their hearts pounding with anticipation. "This year, we have scouts coming to watch you play. And not just any scouts, but scouts from some of the biggest football clubs in England." The words hung in the air, causing a mixture of thrill and nervousness to float throughout the room. Pellistris' heart skipped a beat. The thought of scouts from renowned clubs witnessing him showcase his skills on the field sent shivers down his spine. He knew that this was a golden opportunity, a chance to fulfill his dreams of playing at the highest level. But along with the excitement, a wave of pressure crashed upon him, threatening to drown his hopes. As the coach continued, Pellistris realized that his teammates had a similar mix of emotions. Some were exhilarated by the prospect, while others looked uneasy, their worries etched on their faces. The coach recognized this and placed a reassuring hand on a player's shoulder.

"Listen up, lads," He said firmly, his voice now laced with encouragement. "I understand that the idea of being observed can be daunting, but remember why you started playing in the first place. This is your chance to showcase your skills and passion. Don't let the pressure get to you."

"Easy for him to say. He played in the Championship." Marco passed Pellistri the ball as the two of them joined the other players out on the field.

"How many of us do you think they'll pick?" Pellisitri asked.

"From the same district? I dunno man? Like the coach said, these big clubs are scouting the world, we'd be lucky if they picked one English player to join their youth academies."

"But I'm not English," Pellistri said.

"Surely that's a merit. Scouts will know that you only came to England to play pro ball. Me on the other hand…"

"But you're Italian?"

"I know, but I'm a goalie. The clubs don't pick many of those, at least not as many as other players."

Pellistri nodded understandingly. His friend was a remarkable goalkeeper, so good in the game that he even earned himself a captain's wrist band last season. However he had a point, there was an inflation of goalkeepers in the sport, more would get cut than chosen to join the club academies. You were better off getting picked as a defender or midfielder, like Pellestri was.

"But you did go to the Manchester United Summer Youth Camp. Isn't that off merit? Some scouts might already recognize you?"

"Yes but there were other kids from my district, not to mention Onana. Surely they'd pick him over me."

"Edmund Onana?" The boys brought their attention to their coach who was having a chat with one of the players.

"Is that him?" Pellistri said, surprised and impressed by what he saw.

"Yes, he grew inches over the summer." Marco said.

Edmund Onana was born and raised in England but his parents were of Senegalese origin, apparently, this summer he made himself eligible to play for the men's national team in Senegal, that and the fact he was able to attend the football summer camp that Pellistri was going to go to, if his dad hadn't passed away that summer.

"Surely the scouts will keep a good eye out for him. I think he is the only reason they're coming to our opening game this Saturday.

Pellisitri turned to his friend. "Scouts are coming this Saturday?"

"Yes, so you better get your game together P, or you and Onana will be fighting to start the games this season."

Pellistri nodded, his eyes bright with determination. The scouts were coming to see what he could offer, however the sprain he received during the summer was still bothering him a little. He struggled to keep up with his teammates that first session. But managed to convince his coach that he was just a bit rusty from the summer break. Once he got home though, he rushed to put an ice pack on his wrist.

"Hey, hey, hey. Don't waste good food now. " His uncle snatched the bag of frozen peas from Pellstris outstretched leg.

"But we don't keep any ice packs in the house." Pellistri protested.

"What do you need that for?"

"I sprained my ankle this summer and it's still bothering me."

"Yes, your mother told me about that." His uncle smiled. "Drugs can make some people paranoid."

"Drugs?" Pellstri exclaimed. "I never tried drugs. I was just drunk and fell from a high fence."

"Whatever you say niño." His uncle plotted down beside him on the sofa and began scrolling through the channels on the TV.

"What are you even doing here uncle Rodrigo?"

"What do you mean? To help you and your mother around the house of course."

"Is something wrong with her?"

"Don't worry about that niño, she'll be fine. She just needs time to heal her loss, we all do."

"I've healed."

"Hmm, says the guy who spent his summer doing drugs."

"I didn't do drugs!" Pellistri spent his summer mowing lawns and keeping Gracie company at her father's tailor shop. She hadn't answered any of his texts though since she got back. Pellistri was so emerged being back playing football that he forgot to look for her at school.

"Is it alright if I head out for a sec."

Just don't do drugs." His uncle chuckled.

"Haha, very funny."

"I'm serious, be back on time for dinner. I'm picking up your mother from work soon."

"I will."

He walked out of the house with a limp. It was better to bring out the bike from the garage than to ask Dirk Willy for his crutches again. He might want to tag along and Pellistri wanted to meet with Gracie alone. It had been a lot of moments like that during the summer, the three of them hanging out after a long day of mowing lawns. One time Dirk couldn't make it. His father had predicted bad weather and didn't allow him to come. Pellistri and Gracie went on anyway but were caught in the middle of a thunderstorm. They took shelter in the glasshouse in Mrs Singh garden. Gracie shivered in her drenched clothes and Pellstri had gone to lend her his jacket. It didn't fit her though, instead he had brought his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. They sat like that for a minute with their heads pressed together, rain tapping away above their heads. It was Gracie who had nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck. Pellstri turned his head and met her eyes staring back at him in wonder. He leaned forward to kiss her and she kissed him back.

Arriving at her house, Pellsri dumped his bike on Gracie's front lawn, walking up to knock on her door. There was silence for a while and then a descending thud, like a person walking down a set of stairs. Someone pulled the handle and suddenly the front door came ajar.

"H…Hey."

Gracie appeared in the doorway, surprised to see Pellestri on her front porch.

"Facundo, what are you doing here?" A shy smile tugged the corner of her lips, but it didn't fully spread.

"I was in the neighborhood, riding my bike. I thought since I didn't see you at school maybe you wanted to hang out now."

Gracie looked back into her house, before shutting the door behind her. "Now?" She whispered.

"Yeah. If you grab your bike we could go to the park or downtown to your father's shop?"

"Facundo." She blushed. There weren't many places for them to be alone that summer. Sometimes they would sneak into her father's tailor shop past closing hours. There they would hide out in the back room and do unspeakable things to each other, things better kept between the two of them.

"I can't." She said.

"Why not?"

"My family is just about to have dinner, we're just waiting for my brother to get home."

Pellistri felt guilty for intruding. He should be home preparing for dinner himself.

"Well, can I still kiss you?"

"What?" She gasped and chuckled, a mixture of both.

He stepped forward, towering over her where they stood on her porch. Her lips reached up to his chin, all he had to do was bend down and…"

"Facundo."

She gasped and pushed him away.

"What?" He chuckled. He caught a whiff of her scent, sweet yet light.

She shook her head. "We can't do this here, My mom and dad are inside."

"Where can we do it then?" He smirked.

She shocked her head once more and then something came across her face and expression that Pellstri didn't like.

"What?" He asked.

"You were riding your bike through my neighborhood. Were you coming from Lisa's house?"

"Lisa Willister?" He frowned. She only lived a couple houses away, but why would Gracie assume that he…

"You've heard the rumors" He sighed. She must have heard about them from somebody at school. Marco was right, Lisa had told everybody about their hook up at her party.

"I was drunk and it was before I met you."

"You mean before you knew me." She said. "I've seen how you boys look at Lisa when she walks past you in the hallways. Like hungry orangutans at the zoo."

Pellastri laughed although he didn't think her joke was funny. But the last thing he wanted to do was to leave her upset with him. "There is nothing going on between me and Lisa I swear and I wasn't riding through your neighborhood. I came straight from my house just to see you."

"You did?"

"Yes." He nodded repeatedly. "Only you Gracie, I only want…"

"Brother!" She exclaimed.

Pellistri turned around as a shadow appeared behind him.

"Facundo, you know my brother, right?"

"O… Onana?"

He looked grim in the dark, with a gym bag thrown over his shoulder. His eyebrow furrowed at the sight of Pellistri, shifting his gaze between Pellistri and his sister.

"What's he doing here?" Onana went ahead, pushing past Pellistri, ignoring him this way.

Usually they'd shake hands. Pellstiri always shook hands with his teammates.

"He's been around before, I've told you that." She said, also ignoring Pellistri who suddenly felt like the odd man out.

"Yeah, to cut dad's lawn, not to…" He turned to Pellistri with an even grimmer expression on his face. His jaw was cut sharp and his gaze was one of a protective brother. "You stay away from my sister, alright?"

"Eddie, please."

"I…" Pellistri didn't know what to say, He had no idea that Gracie's brother was one of his teammates. She hadn't mentioned him before.

"And don't come around our house again, got it?"

"Eddie." Gracie frowned. He grabbed a hold of her arm, pulling her inside of the house.

Pellistri watched the door slam in his face, with their quiet bickering continuing behind closed doors. A sticky situation, that much he understood of what he had gotten himself into. Pellistri returned to his bike, hopped on it and rode home. He didn't want to be late for dinner.

#fanfiction #manchester utd #manchester united #football imagine #facundo pellistri #footballer imagine #football angst

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needtherapy · 3 years

Text

The Necromancer’s Apprentice

Xue Yang has seen The Dark House and he’s heard the rumors that a zombie, a witch, and a necromancer live there. It’s stupid, obviously, but...well...maybe he’ll just sneak in one night and find out.

It’s better than doing nothing. It’s better than going back to the group home. It’s better than sleeping on the street.

Aka, three mildly feral twentysomethings are forcibly adopted by one (1) very feral thirteen-year-old Xue Yang.

Read on AO3

Many thanks to @coslyons for co-writing this with me (all the funniest parts belong to them) and @kevinkevinson for beta.

There is a Dark House in Ballard, and people say to avoid it.

It is probably not called the Dark House because evil lurks inside, although there is some debate about that. It is called the Dark House because it is black from threshold to cupola, from shutters to frames, and it looms on a block where whimsical shops of brick and steel are far more common. Unlike the thrift store and the record shop, the hiking outfitter and the vegan patissiere, no ivy reaches toward the roof of the Dark House. Unlike the local yarn store, no dogs sniff the Dark House’s gate, although at least two cats—also black, naturally—are always sitting on the porch.

It may not be fair to judge a house by its color, but the local legends are clear. If you step on the cracks in the sidewalk, the Dark House will steal your soul. The wrought iron gate of twining snakes comes alive under the light of the full moon to snap at unwary joggers. Children who walk alone after dark get eaten, and the yard is full of bones that wail songs of their murders.

Xue Yang sits on a bench, across the street, eating ice cream and admiring the house. He wonders about the sanity of people who mow the lawn and trim the roses, yet painted their pretty little house black, until it occurs to him that he could just go inside and find out.

He waits until dark, not to stay hidden, but because it’s a more terrible idea, and Xue Yang always gives himself permission to do more terrible things whenever he gets the chance. The high iron fence buzzes with a strange kind of energy that crackles in his palms, so Xue Yang wraps his hands tightly in his flannel shirt as he climbs over. His mother always said he was a practical boy, back when she was still around to say things.

Xue Yang lands in the backyard with a quiet thump onto thin and scraggly grass. The center of the yard is dark under the watery moonlight, with the dirt churned up and loose, and for the first time, a tiny twinge of warning pings in the back of his mind.

He ignores it.

With a flick of his wrist, he summons his knife, a long black switchblade that is seven kinds of illegal and which he loves more than anything else he has ever had, not that there is much competition. With nimble and practiced hands, he slides the knife between the door and the frame, twisting just right when he reaches the lock. With a grin of triumph, he turns the handle, shaped like a gaping mouth, and opens the door.

In the center of the room, there is a long sort of table that seems somehow to pull all the darkness of the room toward it. The shadows gather most thickly around a large, human-shaped lump laid out stiffly on top of it. Xue Yang reaches out to poke it and feels something unexpectedly warm give slightly under his finger.

The shadowy lump on the table sits upright with a sudden jerk.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Xue Yang shrieks.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHH!” the shadowy lump shrieks back.

“Why the fuck is everyone yelling?” a voice says, and the room is suddenly filled with light.

The shadowy lump rips off the sheet and turns into a guy in his early twenties with a scraggly little beard and wicked bedhead. The voice belongs to a grumpy-looking woman wearing a fluffy pink bathrobe. She squints at him in the oppressive brightness, glaring for a long moment before apparently deciding to deal with the man on the table first.

“Wei Wuxian, I’ve told you a thousand times that the workshop is not a place for sleeping.”

“Technically—” the man begins, before being abruptly cut off by the woman.

“If the next words out of your mouth aren’t ‘yes, Wen Qing,’ then I don’t care. Go to bed.” She rounds on Xue Yang and he takes a tiny, involuntary step back. “You. What are you doing here?”

Before Xue Yang can answer, another guy—this one with long hair, killer tats, and a dedication to the goth look Xue Yang has to admire—runs in with a baseball bat held in his hands like a club.

“Jiejie! Is there something wrong?”

The woman—Wen Qing, she’d said—pinches the bridge of her nose and says, “It’s fine, A-Ning. I’m just trying to figure out what this little hooliganthinks he’s doing breaking into my house and tripping all of my wards while I’m trying to fucking sleep .”

Xue Yang is now convinced that what he’s broken into is some kind of madhouse, and he pastes a charming smile on his face, the one he uses when fists are clenched and the smell of alcohol burns in his nose. The smile whispers words like “anger issues” and “prone to destruction,” and it’s usually weapon enough, but he holds his knife a little tighter too, just in case.

The woman snaps around like she’s felt his fingers grip the handle of the blade and holds out her hand. “Give it to me.”

No. He will not. His chin tips dangerously, his smile grows icy spikes.

Her eyes narrow. “I could just take it.”

They face off for a minute, the tension almost palpable. Actually, Xue Yang thinks, it’s not tension after all. There’s something else in the air. It reminds him of the buzzing fence, and he doesn’t like the way it confuses him.

“Ah, Wen-jie, let him keep her. Can’t you tell? The kid is scared, they’re both scared, and it’s not like he can hurt us.”

Xue Yang is offended. He is not scared, but he’s relieved that Wei Wuxian spoke up all the same, because even though Wen Qing purses her lips and looks annoyed, she drops her hand.

“Fine.” She crosses her arms again. “Wei Wuxian, make sure our little guest leaves. I’m resetting the wards in five minutes and going back to sleep.”

“Yeah, sure.” Wei Wuxian grins and shoots finger guns at Wen Qing. “Sleep well and dream of me.”

Wen Qing rolls her eyes. “Yes, because I love having nightmares.”

“Oh shoo.” Wei Wuxian flicks his hand at the goth man and Wen Qing. “To bed with you both. I can handle it.”

Their footsteps creak on the wooden floors as they walk further into the house. Xue Yang and Wei Wuxian wait in silence until the footsteps quiet, and then Wei Wuxian turns to Xue Yang. The grin he’d been wearing drops off his face and he looks serious, his eyes shaded and dark.

“Look kid, you should know better than to piss off powerful witches. It tends to be bad for the health.” The side of his mouth just barely tilts upwards, more wry than mirthful, and he looks old now. Old and grey and tired. “So, we’ll just call this a learning experience, and you’ll never come here again, right?”

Xue Yang snorts. “Are you kidding? If you’ve got real magic why the fuck would I leave now?”

“Toddlers shouldn’t swear.”

“I’m almost fourteen, fuck you very much.”

“Ah yes, I am now so convinced you are an adult.” Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes. “It’s two in the morning. You want to go home and go to bed. There’s nothing here for you to be curious about at all.”

Something sibilant and musical weaves its way through the words, and Xue Yang has his hand on the door knob before he fights off the slithering compulsion.

Holy fuck that was cool.

“Nah, I think I’ll stay,” he says, sauntering back casually, pausing to look at a weird painting of a monster facing off with an axe-wielding guy in front of a lighthouse. He feels a very strong sense of camaraderie with it right now.

Wei Wuxian sighs. “Sure, maybe you’ve got a little gift. But you’re a kid. Don’t you have parents who are going to, you know, notice you’re missing?”

Xue Yang stares him in the eyes, willing himself not to flinch. Something tells him this is a chance he’s never going to have again, a chance that requires honesty.

“No.” Xue Yang lifts his chin stubbornly. “I don’t.”

Wei Wuxian stares back, and Xue Yang gets the feeling that he sees all the years and all the disappointments that fit into that no. He doesn’t care. No one gives you what you want unless you take it.

This standoff lasts forever, or maybe it’s only a few seconds.

“She’s going to kill me,” Wei Wuxian mutters, and a little louder, “You can sleep on the couch tonight, but I’m locking you in the room and if you touch anything, I will turn you into a mannequin.”

He turns to leave, but looks back with a frown. “Wen Qing builds beautiful, elegant wards that you’ll never feel, never even notice if she doesn’t want you to. Mine will hurt. Don’t. Touch. Anything.”

Xue Yang decides, in the principle of magnanimity, to agree. “Whatever.”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head and points a finger at Xue Yang. “Go to sleep, kiddo.”

The words hold Xue Yang’s hand and lead him to the couch, make him lay down, and within minutes, he is asleep.

He opens his eyes to piercing sunlight and a pale face inches from his.

“What the fuck!” he yelps, instinctively grabbing for his knife and snapping it open.

“Mr. Wei, he’s awake and noisy,” the face says, and Xue Yang focuses on its features.

It’s the goth guy. His arms have full-sleeve tattoos, matching patterns of stark black geometric lines and circles, but his neck has weird black veins tattooed on it. His eyes, which are still way too close to Xue Yang’s, are so dark they’re practically black.

“Where’s the witch?” Xue Yang asks, sufficiently recovered to be an asshole.

“Boiling children,” Wei Wuxian retorts. He’s leaning over the table and taking notes in a tattered book, poking something with a tiny screwdriver. “It’s the only reason we let you stay.”

“Really?” Xue Yang can’t decide if that’s cool or terrifying.

“He’s always like that in the morning,” Goth Guy says conspiratorially. “By ten, he’s pretty nice again.”

“I’m never nice,” Wei Wuxian grumbles. “A-Ning, can you take our miscreant home, please? The last thing I need is cops knocking on The House door asking if we’re kidnapping children. Again.” “Okay, Mr. Wei.”

Xue Yang panics. He can’t go back there. Not since they found him alone with the fire. He knows what they’ll do, and he can’t go back. He won’t . He ducks under Goth Guy’s arm and has his knife angled under Wei Wuxian’s chin before he’s even processed the motor function commands “get up” and “don’t let him send you away.”

“No! You have to…” He scrambles though thoughts, desperate ideas, each one crazier than the last before he hits on words that work themselves loose from his mouth. “You said I had a gift, you have to teach me to use it.”

Wei Wuxian frowns, but instead of being afraid or angry, he tips his head and whistles, two notes that almost sound like a name. To his great shock and horror, Xue Yang’s knife vibrates in his hand, and his fingers snap open like a broken trap, dropping the knife onto Wei Wuxian’s waiting palm. He carefully folds the blade back into the handle.

“Jiangzai,” he says, almost affectionately.

It doesn’t mean anything, but then it does , and it hits Xue Yang so hard he collapses to the ground. The knife has a name, and he knows it’s right as soon as Wei Wuxian says it. Xue Yang’s heart pounds, and he hates it. He hates this motherfucker who just took his knife away and he hates the Goth Guy who is helping him back to his feet. He doesn’t want to stay anymore, and he shakes off Goth Guy, wishing he could throw his kindness on the floor and stomp on it.

Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes. “Okay, maybe you have a little bit more than a little bit of a gift. But you still can’t stay, and I’m not teaching you anything.”

Xue Yang snatches his knife— his Jiangzai—out of Wei Wuxian’s hand and stomps to the door. “Fine. Fuck you.”

He gets as far as yanking the door open and slamming it against the wall before he realizes that there is a person in the way, and she doesn’t look inclined to move.

“Here you go, kiddo,” she says, handing him a bag. “I bought you some clean clothes and a toothbrush. A-Ning will show you where the bathroom is. Come back down for breakfast when you’ve changed.”

This is somehow more terrifying than when she was yelling at him. Yelling he understands. Now she’s just being...creepy. He stares at her belligerently, and she sighs.

“Listen, you little shit,” she says, bending over to look him dead in the eye. She doesn’t have to bend very far, he realizes. She’s actually tiny, even though she seems as big as the Fremont troll. “You will either go willingly with A-Ning, who is very nice, or you can test my patience and get buried in the yard with all the rest of the naughty children who break into my house. Your choice.”

Yeah, that’s more solid ground.

“Fine.” He grabs the bag from her and waves at the Goth Guy. “Lead the way, A-Ning .” He means it to be an insult, but Goth Guy just grins.

Xue Yang hears Wei Wuxian ask, “Wen Qing, what the fuck,” before Goth Guy herds him up the wide staircase, and he doesn’t hear any more of her answer than, “A-Xian, I can’t let him leave. You don’t understand, I did a location…”

This close to the Goth Guy, Xue Yang decides to acknowledge that the pale translucence of his skin is probably not makeup.

“I’m Wen Ning, by the way. I doubt Mr. Wei or jiejie introduced me,” Goth Guy—Wen Ning—says in a casual tone.

“So are you actually dead or what?” he asks Wen Ning, and Wen Ning grins.

“Or what,” he answers enigmatically, and gently shoves Xue Yang in a bathroom with pink tiles and a claw-foot tub.

Once he’s bathed and changed, Xue Yang heads back downstairs. Breakfast is bacon, eggs, and toast, and he doesn’t even pretend it isn’t the best food he’s eaten in a week. It is, in fact, the first food he hasn’t stolen in a week, and that alone is a novelty.

He’s halfway done with his food when Wei Wuxian, who hasn’t touched a bit of his and looks as sullen as an orange, says, “I have been informed that there is some arcane rule about teaching a gift you discover, and my...how did you put it, dear Wen Qing? My immortal soul and earthly being will be in danger if I don’t capitulate to the inevitable?”

He glares at Wen Qing, and she smiles sweetly at him.

“Whatever,” Xue Yang says around a mouthful of eggs. “Are you going to eat that?”

Wei Wuxian passes him the plate of food, and Xue Yang closes his eyes in bliss. Food is amazing.

“There are conditions—don’t look at me like that, Wen-jie. I agreed, okay? I get to set conditions. First of all, you do whatever I tell you. If I tell you to sell turnips on the street corner, you better sell some goddamn turnips. Second, you don’t touch anything unless I say it’s okay. A lot of this stuff,” he waves his hand around the white and yellow room, which looks surprisingly cheerful for a kitchen in a black house, “is priceless and dangerous, so…”

Wen Qing clears her throat and glares at Wei Wuxian.

“Uh...don’t touch anything.” Wei Wuxian finishes, snaking a piece of bacon from Xue Yang’s plate and shoving it into his mouth before disappearing back into his workroom.

Wen Qing rolls her eyes. “I promise he’ll actually teach you stuff once he pulls his head—” She visibly checks herself. “Once he stops being an idiot. More bacon?”

The rest is on AO3

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #xue yang #wei wuxian #wen ning #wen qing #Seattle #modern au #modern with magic #found family #the untamed fic #13k words #I just think teenage Xue Yang would have been very different with a family

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