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wiseoldowl72 · 1 year

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Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

Prompt fill for Day 7 - Christmas Spirit

Grumbling as he walked through the grocery store with their displays of Christmas candy, gifts, decorated cookies, cards, and decorations, plus the Christmas tunes over the speakers Dean growled, “Do they really have to do all this? It’s not even Thanksgiving yet!”

“I hate this time of year. So many holidays in just a few months time and you never know what you are celebrating at any given time,” Dean murmured under his breath as he made his way through the checkout stands. Carts full of baking goods, family dinner makings, and bakery items just made Dean’s mood even worse.

He eventually found a self check-out that allowed him to ring up his items and get out the door. After he put all the bags into the Impala, he sat down hard in the driver’s seat, thankful that he was far away from the holiday drama until his next venture outside the house. He just wanted to hide inside his house until after New Year’s Day.

~~~~~~~~~~~

He thought on the way home about why he was such a Grinch this year. Usually he didn’t mind holidays. He loved Halloween. Scary movies, his Indy or Batman costume, all the skeletons and creepy decorations, and, of course, trips to haunted houses.

It’d been so busy at the bar he tended from the first of October, that he hadn’t thought much beyond when his next shift was. It was sleep, veg in front of the TV with Dr. Sexy, then work again. Sam was busy with his law practice out in California, his parents were dead, his friends seemed to be elsewhere these days, so why celebrate just for one?

The bar was decorated for the appropriate holiday, all the employees made sure of that. Dean handled all the creepy Halloween decorations from mid-September until Halloween night. Then on November first, Jo and Ellen helped put up the Thanksgiving or really fall decor. A wreath of leaves and a garland under the bar, but making sure it didn’t get in the way of the stools.

Then the day after Thanksgiving it was time for the Christmas decorations. Everyone helped put up the tree, lights, stockings above each booth, and evergreen wreaths on the doors. Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Ash, Benny, and Dean all took part.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanksgiving came just as it always does, with a bar full of people. Some you could tell were avoiding family, some came after family gatherings to get their frustrations out with a bottle, and the young people in groups of six or less to have fun at the pool tables were Dean’s favorite. He didn’t have a lot of people to spend the day with so he always tended the bar that night. Everyone he knew was there anyway. Jo waited on the tables and booths, Benny and Ash cooked in the kitchen, and Bobby and Ellen worked wherever they were needed. The prerogative of being owners, they chose what they did or not depending on how busy the bar was.

Dean left the bar when it closed at midnight. As he walked to the Impala all he wanted to do was go home and sleep. It had been a busy night that year. He made and filled more drinks than he ever remembered.

~~~~~~~~~~

His attention was drawn to a pair of men under a parking lot light talking by an ugly, gold Continental.

“It’s not going to start,” the black haired one said. “I’ve tried everything. It just grinds and everything turns off when I try with the key.

“Now that’s because you left the headlights on, you idiot!” The shorter one said, exasperated and threw his hands in the air.

“Do you all need a jump?” Dean asked before really taking a look at the men. He just threw out the question.

“I don’t want to call a Lyft if I can help it, so can you please just take him up on it Castiel?” the shorter one pleaded.

With a resigned sigh the darker haired one, called Castiel answered, “Yes, we’ll take your offer of a jumpstart if you don’t mind. It was my fault for this malfunction.”

“Hey buddy, it’s no big deal.” Dean said. He slid into the Impala’s front seat and pulled up next to the Continental.

For the first time he took a look at the dark haired man named Castiel. They were parked under a light, letting Dean see the messy dark hair, blue eyes, sharp features, and tan trench coat. The other man was dressed more fashionable in tight blue jeans and a button up shirt. He had golden brown hair and brown eyes. It wasn’t a question, blue eyes immediately grabbed Dean’s attention.

“I’m so sorry to have to change your plans, Sir, but I do thank you for helping us.” Castiel thanked Dean in a low voice that sent sparks up his spine.

“Oh, call me Dean. I work here as a bartender. You didn’t change my plans. I was just getting off and going home.” He placated the other man. He hooked up the cables and started the other car.

He honestly didn’t have other plans, but now he wanted to. This well-spoken man in an oddly bulky trench coat had his attention.

“Did you have any plans?” Dean asked Castiel.

“I was here with my brother because we don’t have any other family to do anything with and didn’t want to sit at home doing nothing. Gabriel suggested we come here. I believe he’s quite inebriated now.” Castiel offered up.

Dean jumped the car and after it ran for a bit everyone was ready to go. Dean didn’t want to leave without getting Castiel’s information. He wanted to see about getting together with him. The other brother wasn’t his type.

Looking down at his feet Dean inquired innocently, “Can I get your phone number? I’d really like to see you again and not here in the parking lot.”

“Cassie, why don’t you go on with Deano here.” Gabriel offered. “I’ll get a Lyft. I’m too wasted to drive. I wouldn’t be good company tonight.

Castiel squinted at Gabriel and tilted his head, obviously thinking, “Ok, I’m still sober. I only had one beer.”

“Would you like to come over?” Dean asked. “I know a good diner we can get dinner to go and then go back to mine, maybe watch a movie?”

“Fine, I’ll follow you.” Cas replied.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

After picking up burgers, fries, and slices of pie, Castiel followed Dean to his small bungalow. Dean alway kept his house neat, so he wasn’t worried about the condition, he was more concerned about bringing a new guy into the house he didn’t know. But it was now the day after Thanksgiving and he had a different feeling about the season.

Dean started humming ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ on the way home. Odd, how just several days ago he was Mr. Grumpy about the whole season. Meeting a stranger with an angel’s name with eyes like the sky seemed to change his perspective.

Once they both were in the house, dinner in hand, Dean asked, “Can I call you Cas? Castiel is a mouthful. I know it’s an angel’s name, but it’s a bit much.”

“Yes Dean, that’s fine.” Cas said as he looked up into Dean’s green eyes. “We honestly didn’t have any plans tonight. I was going to get started decorating for Christmas tomorrow, but that’s it.”

“We decorate the bar the day after Thanksgiving. Does that count?” Dean asked. “Right now though, I’d really like to kiss you. I’ve wanted to since you said my name at the parking lot.”

Cas walked up to Dean as they stood in the living room. The Diner’s to-go bags were set on the side table. He put his hands on Dean’s hip and pulled him closer. Then he caressed Dean’s cheek with one hand and put the other on the small of his back, pulling him even closer, leaving nary an inch between them.

Dean became pliant in Cas’ arms, moving smoothly where he was pulled. Soon he felt Cas’ breath on his cheek. Dean turned toward Cas and lightly put his lips onto Cas’ full ones. He pushed them together a little harder and rolled his tongue over the seam asking entrance to Cas’ mouth. They stayed like that, exploring each other’s mouths and bodies for an unknown amount of time.

When they finally broke the kiss, Dean sang softly into Cas’ hair,

Have yourself a merry little Christmas

Let your heart be light…

Dean had finally found his Christmas spirit. Dinner went uneaten and sat on the side table.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next day found Cas helping Dean and the rest of the crew at the bar decorating for the holiday. What did it matter if blue eyes found green throughout the day, or they touched each other as often as they could as they moved around the place? The end result was that two people found each other at the best time of the year. Dean embraced his happiness and sang carols all day. When all was said and done, the men left together to continue to make merry in their own private way.

#spnxmasprompts #ao3 fanfic #christmas prompts #Destiel #first meeting

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darkmulti · 3 years

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(Yandere and non con warning)

Def not the only one who wants a 18th century h.c of possessive and controlling, husband!Jungkook x forced wife!reader. Jungkook gets jealous after witnessing another man asking you out and when you come back home at night, he breeds you. Please make it rough and non con. Thank you❤️‍🔥

-> you’re definitely not the only one. I can assure you that I’ve thought about this too many times😫

⚠️: NON CON, YANDERE!JUNGKOOK, Squirting/piss play, Physically, mental and emotional abuse, spit play,

-> sorry for any mistakes

Your parents owned a local bakery store

All the recipes were from your late grandmother

You spent almost all of your time there because you were in charge of everything

The store was under your parents’ name but you were the one running it

Sometimes, you even slept there because it’d be too late to walk home

Your dedication to the bakery made it successful

Although, you were the one doing all the work, you parents took all the credit and money

They weren’t paying you because you’re their child

They don’t need to pay you

“It’s a women’s place.” Your father said

You wanted to go back to school however, your parents laughed in your face

“School aren’t for girls, Y/N. Learn how to cook and clean. That’s all you need to know. Let the men handle everything else.”

You were tired of fighting with them and eventually stopped because they threatened to set you up in an arrange marriage

Now, it was just you and the bakery

You had many loyal customers and recently, one has been coming everyday, at the same time

He’d always buy a loaf of banana bread and if he was in a good mood, a blueberry muffin as well

Then, he’d sit in the corner table and eat two - three slices before getting up and leaving

He’d always leave a tip behind and you always kept it for yourself

One day, he didn’t come and you were surprised

For a year straight, he came and bought the same two things

Now, he hasn’t visited in 4 days

Tonight, you came back home for the first time in a while

Your parents had visited the bakery to collect “their” earnings and told you that you have to go somewhere with them that evening

After closing up and cleaning up, you went home and got ready

Your parents were taking you out for dinner as a treat for all your hard work

You were really excited because they were finally acknowledging your hard work

Once you arrived at the restaurant, your parents lead you to a table that already had three people seated

You immediately recognize one of them

It’s that guy who buys your banana loaf!

You sat in front of him while your parents greeted the two other strangers

“Oh, so this is your daughter? She’s gorgeous! Come here and give me a hug.”

You awkwardly chuckled and got up to hug the middle aged women

“Oh! Where are my manners? My name is Jeon F/N, this is my husband, Jeon F/N and this is our son, Jeon Jungkook. We’re your soon to be in laws!”

You heart dropped to the floor

“I-in laws?” You asked, confused

“Yeah, honey. Is this your first time hearing about this? We’ve been talking to your parents for a while now.”

You snapped your head towards you parents and they looked emotionless

“No, no they didn’t tell me anything.”

Dinner with them was hell

Your parents were talking about your wedding arrangements right in front of you

You didn’t know what to do

You wanted to rebel but then your parents would disown you

Just like that, you’d be homeless with little money to survive

In the end, you’d be paying the heavy price

You looked at Jungkook who was staring at you the whole time

You wondered if he knew about this

Maybe, that’s why he came to the bakery everyday

“Did you know anything about this?” You said loud enough for him to hear

“I did.”

“For how long?”

“Since last year.”

You eyes widen, in shock

You were right!

“Why didn’t you stop it?”

“Why would I stop it when I’m the one who wants it?”

You scrunch your eyebrows, in confusion

“What’re you talking about?”

“Since the first day I met you, I wanted to marry you. I told my parents and now, we’re getting married.”

Now, you were mad

You got up and stormed off, catching everyone’s attention

You walked to the bakery and locked yourself in

Here, you thought your parents were acknowledging you for first time, when they were actually setting you up for a marriage so they don’t have to take care of you

You cried yourself to sleep that night

The next couple of weeks, the bakery was closed due to your wedding

The wedding was spectacular

You would’ve love it if you weren’t being forced into a marriage

After the wedding, Jungkook took your precious virginity

He made sure to pleasure you until you passed out

He was so in love with you

Now, he was finally able to show you how much he loved you

And mark you as his

The next couple of months, he was attached to you

He took over his family’s business and you took over your family’s business

He’d visit you every day at work to check if you’re with another man

He was so paranoid about it, sometimes he’d come by 3 or 4 times to make sure you were not cheating

You thought he missed you and that’s why he kept stopping by (which is half true) however, you had no idea that he was possessive and controlling

You had to learn the hard way

Sometimes, you wouldn’t leave work until midnight

You had so much things to do like preparing for the next day, making a to-do list, making a grocery lists, and cleaning every area of the shop

It’s time consuming, so obviously you finish up pretty late

Jungkook absolutely hates that

Although you stay late in the shop once in a while, he can’t stand it

He wants you to be in his arms every night

Jungkook gets angry when you’re not

This was your fourth time staying out late in the shop and he’s had enough

He couldn’t help but feel paranoid about what you were actually doing in the shop

What if you lied and went on a date with another man?

What if you were running away from him?

Or even worse, what if you were having sex with another guy?

He raced to the bakery and banged on the door, which scared you

You saw that it was him and let him in

“W-what’s wrong?! You scared me!”

“Grab your stuff, we’re going home.”

“But I’m not done yet! I only have a couple more things to do and then I’ll come home. I told you already-”

“I don’t think you fucking heard me!” He yelled and grabbed your hair

“Grab your shit, we are leaving right now.”

He pushed you towards the counter and crossed his arms

You let your breath out in shock but scurry to get your stuff

You’ve never seen him like this and it terrified you

“I have my stuff.”

“Good, let’s go.”

He helped you lock the door and wrapped his arm around your waist

The walk home was silent

You were scared shitless

All you wanted to do was run back into your parents’ house

But he didn’t let you move an inch away from him

Once you got home, he started pushing you around and arguing some more

“Jungkook, I told you this afternoon when you came to visit! I said I have to stay late so I don’t have to stress myself out in the morning!”

“Don’t fucking lie to me! Who were you fucking seeing?!” He screamed, frightening you more

“No one! I swear, no one!” You whimpered

He corned you into your shared room and locked the door

“Jungkook, I swear! Nothing happened!”

He didn’t believe a single word coming out of your mouth

It was like you were talking to a wall

He pushed you onto the bed and stripped you naked

Jungkook pushed two fingers into your cunt and pretended to scoop out cum

“If nothing happened, why is your cunt full of cum?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! I didn’t have sex with anyone!”

You weren’t very educated about sex, so Jungkook had an advantage

You began apologizing even though you didn’t have sex with anyone

You just wanted peace between you two

“I’m sorry! I didn’t cheat or anything, but I’m sorry if it hurt you! I really am!”

Jungkook slapped you and spat on your face

“Dirty slut. Telling me that you’re not cheating but still apologizing.”

“No! Please, I didn’t do anything!”

Jungkook pulled his cock out and shoved it in without warning

You were still new to sex so when he didn’t let you adjust, you automatically started screaming and crying

“Please, slower!” You cried, holding onto his biceps as he went faster and deeper

“Stop! Please!”

Jungkook loved the sound of his balls clapping against your ass

It honestly made him harder

All night, he was on top, fucking you hard

Your legs were spread apart, tears in your eyes and sweat dripping down your forehead

You looked like a hot mess

And he loved every second of it

“Mmh- Jungkook!”

You squirted around him and had a trembling orgasm

You couldn’t stop releasing your liquids on him and he couldn’t stop pounding you

The bed sheet was soaked by the end of it

He pushed his cock deep inside and came

After Jungkook fell asleep, you cried for while

How were you supposed to tolerate him for the rest of your life?

The next morning

You woke up in severe pain

You lower region was begging for some pain relief

But there was nothing you could do about it

Jungkook was still sleeping next to you

You decided to leave before he wakes up

After getting ready by leaning on everything, you slowly walked to town

When you arrived at the bakery, you saw a big “for sale” sign

You panicked and went inside the store, only to be greeted by your parents

“Mother, father! Why is there a “for sale” sign on the bakery?”

You parents looked at each other in disappointment

“You see, we have to explain the obvious to your daughter. Be grateful that someone willingly married your idiot daughter.” Your father said before walking out

His words did hurt but you cared about the bakery more than your father

“Why’re you selling it, mother? Can you not afford it anymore? Why-”

“Shut up, Y/N! You’re married now, you have wifely duties. You don’t have time for this bakery so the best option is to sell it.”

Your world fell apart right before your eyes

“But mother-”

“Save it. You already made your father upset. I’m warning you now, you don’t want to get on my bad side.”

You cried the whole morning

After you opened the bakery, lots of people gathered in line

All breads, cakes and muffins were going on sale

After you served the people in line, you went up to the tables and took their order

After you served them, a regular customer who was sitting alone gestured you to come over

You went over to the man and asked him if he needed anything

He told you to take a seat and accompany him

Since the crowd died down, you sat down in front of him

“You look a bit stressed and sad. What’s on your mind?”

You were touched by his words

Finally, someone cared about you

You told him you were upset about the bakery closing

He understood and even offered money to help you keep it open

You were flattered but didn’t accept the money

“Money’s not a problem, my parents just don’t want to keep this shop open.”

You talked with this guy for a couple of hours

Although this was your first time talking to him, you talked to him like he was your best friend

When closing time came around, he got up and asked you out on a date

You didn’t know what to do

You were married but you really liked this guy

You were considering saying yes when someone pulled his shoulder back and punched him across the face

“Jungkook! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“You think I didn’t see that?! I saw it all. I saw you flirting with my wife for three hours straight and then asking her out on a date!”

Jungkook beat the crap out of the guy and pushed him outside

He then came back in the store, looking at you with devil eyes

“Yesterday’s punishment clearly wasn’t enough.”

The entire way home, he was yelling at you, slapping you, spitting on you, pulling your hair, pushing you to the ground and choking you

You were crying the whole time, apologizing over and over

When you arrived home, he seriously had no mercy on you

No foreplay, no lube, no adjusting

Just a raw, thick cock being forced into you

You were begging him to let you go but tonight, nothing was going to stop him

He was moving his hips insanely fast, not giving you enough time to breathe

You were choking on your own sobs

“Jungkook, please no! I’m sorry!”

“Why did you hesitate to deny his offer? You are a married fucking women!” With each word a hard thrust followed, knocking all the air out of you

“Answer me! Is he better than me? Does he take care of you? Does he provide money for you? TELL ME!” He was yelling so loudly, it was making you cry harder

“N-no, he doesn’t. He was just the first person to care about me.” You whispered the last sentence but, Jungkook was able to make it out

“Are you saying that I don’t care about you?”

He got more aggressive and fastened his pace

“Tell me, Y/N! Do you think that I don’t care about you?!”

You couldn’t answer him because you couldn’t catch your breath

He was going too fast and you were crying so hard, you couldn’t breathe

Jungkook noticed how much you were struggling and added onto your struggle by holding your neck down

“Apologize, right now Jeon Y/N!”

You softly apologize but it wasn’t good enough for him

He lifted your legs a little, giving him better access and fucked you till you squirted

This time you sobbed your apology and begged for forgiveness

“I’m so sorry, Jungkook! It’ll never— ah! It’ll never happen again! I’m so sorry! Please for- forgive me for my dumb m-mistake. Please! I’m begging you.” You held onto the bed sheet, praying he would stop

He huskily growled and pushed his cock in deep

“For the next 9 months you’ll be swelling with my baby. Now, everyone can back off.”

He shot his hot cum right into you, filling you up to the rim

Sorry for any mistakes. It’s 3:41am 😄

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts smut #non con #bts yandere #yandere bts #yandere jungkook

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seoups · 3 years

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REQUESTS ARE OPEN

contents: you go grocery shopping with Tsukki while you have a side bet with your best friend. warnings: Fluff !! mostly unedited !! word count: 1362

“Whatcha doing?” You asked your boyfriend as you entered his dorm room. “Studying for finals,” he said. “Isn’t finals 3 weeks away?” you asked. “I’m just doing a basic review so I can make sure I didn’t forget everything I learned this year,” Tsukki said. “Oh, ok,” you said. “Did you need something?” he asked as he turned to you. “Oh, I was just gonna ask if you wanted to go out later today?” you said. “Sure. I need a break anyways,” he sighed, standing up from his desk. “Awesome!” you smiled. “Are you free now?” “Yep. Where do you want to go?” “I was thinking that we could just go around and walk? There’s a grocery store nearby and I think both of us need food for our rooms.” “Works for me,” he said.

The two of you walked on the path as you made your way to the store you talked about. You got a call from your best friend as you were walking there.

“Oh, sorry, this might be important, F/n never calls me. Can you give me like 5 minutes?” you asked. “Sure, I’ll wait here,” he said, leaning on the nearest tree.

You walked across the path before answering the call.

“Hello? F/n? Is everything ok?” you asked. “Ok so. I was thinking, right, and I think it’s so bullshit that you and Tsukishima never hold hands. Like even when I’m looking out from my dorm and see you guys walking, you guys are never holding hands or hugging or anything,” she said. “Is this really what you called me about? I’m literally out with him right now, F/n. He’s just not a touchy person, I don’t know,” you sighed. “Because you don’t initiate anything! I bet if you were to hold his hand right now, he’d probably fucking combust,” she laughed. “F/n…” “I’m not even joking! Test it out, be touchy. I bet you $20.” “That'll be the easiest $20 I’ve ever gotten,” you smiled. “Sure. We can go with that. NOW GO TEST IT OUT,” she said, hanging up.

You walked back to Tsukki.

“Everything good with F/n?” he asked. “Yep,” you said. “She was just stressed about a test she had coming up. I just had to reassure her that she’d do great like usual.”

For someone who didn’t lie often, you were fucking good at it.

“That’s good,” he said. “We should start heading to the store.” “Right, we should!”

The two of you continued on your way to the store. As you walked, you had the idea to test what F/n told you. You slipped your hand into his.

“Y/n, what are you doing?” he blushed. “What do you mean?” you asked, pretending to be confused.

Damn, F/n was right.

“Whatever,” he said, looking forward and gripping your hand more than he had prior.

He had weirdly soft hands. They felt really nice to hold and warm. They compensated for your extremely cold hands.

“Your hands are fucking freezing. Did you stick your hands in a bucket of ice water or something?” he asked. “Your hands are just warm. Did you put them in fire or something?” you asked. “It’s better to hold hands with someone with warm hands than someone’s who’s feel like your holding an iceberg,” he smirked. “Are you saying that you don’t like holding hands with me?” you asked. “That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he glared at you. “I’m just teasing, honey,” you chuckled. “Whatever,” he rolled his eyes.

The two of you arrived at the store. You grabbed a basket while still holding your boyfriend’s hand.

“Should I get ramen or just go out and eat it in restaurants?” you asked. “Ramen in restaurants is expensive but ramen in packs are cheap though restaurant ramen tastes better,” he said. “So, make your choice.” “Hmm, I might as well get it in packs,” you answered, putting the packs in your basket. “Oh! Right! This shop has a bakery here with the best shortcake ever! We should get a slice and eat it in one of our dorms!” “Ooh, good idea,” he said, remembering his love for strawberry shortcake.

The two of you purchased items you needed for your dorms before heading to the bakery.

“You pick which one,” you asked, gesturing to the different types of shortcake.

He picked out the graham cracker strawberry one and the lady boxed it up for you two.

You both left the store, taking your bags back. You had used self-checkout so you separated your groceries into bags for either of you though your boyfriend insisted on carrying some of your bags. It’s safe to say you wouldn’t let him.

Once you two arrived at the dorms, you split to your separate dorms to leave your groceries.

“So? How’d it go?” F/n asked you.

Without saying anything, you handed her a $20.

“I KNEW IT!!” “OH SHUT UP!”

She was cackling as she realized she was right.

“Whatever, i have to go to Tsukki’s dorm,” you said, grabbing your keys. “Oh? for what?” she smirked. “Oh my god, we’re just sharing a slice of cake,” you said. “That’s a weird name for sex,” she said. “You’re lucky i’m running late,” you said, running out the door.

Unfortunately for the two of you, your dorms were on separate floors. His being the one above yours.

You knocked on the door of his dorm. He let you in, already having the cake and cutlery on the table. The two of you sat at the table, starting to eat the cake.

“You were right. That place is good,” he said. “I’m usually right,” you stated. “I’m not so sure about that. But you got this one right,” he chuckled. “Oh fuck you,” you said, flipping him off with both of you hands. “You love me,” he laughed. “Shut up,” you said, shoveling a bite of cake into your mouth.

He leaned in and kissed you quickly, getting frosting from the cake on his lips and face.

You chuckled before wiping the frosting off his face.

Soon, the two of you finished the slice of cake and started talking before Tsukki’s roommate came home.

“Oh hi, Y/n!” he said, entering the dorm. “Hey Tadashi!” you exclaimed. “Did you guys go out on a date or something?” “We went to the store,” Tsukki said. “Yep! I was running out of food for me and F/n so i had to grab some,” you smiled. “Speaking of F/n, i should head back to my dorm.” “I’ll walk you there,” Tsukki stood up. “Bye, Tadashi. See you later!” you exclaimed, standing up. “Bye, Y/n!”

You and Tsukki left the dorm, heading to yours.

The two of you stood outside the door, saying your goodbyes.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you smiled. “See you then,” he said, leaning down to kiss you. “We can go on a proper date tomorrow.” “Sounds good,” you smiled. "Oh, by the way, you want 20 dollars to compensate for the 20 you lost?" he smirked. "WHAT? YOU KNEW?" you screamed. "First off, stop screaming. Second off, you talk really loud when you're on the phone, of course, I heard you," he chuckled. "Oh my god, I hate you," you scoffed. "Were you pretending the whole time?" "Duh. You losing 20 dollars was fucking hilarious," he laughed. "But actually, you should do that shit more often. It's cute. Maybe I should start holding YOUR hand out of nowhere." "I'm gonna kill you," you said. "I love you too," he chuckled, leaning down and kissing you. "I'm gonna head out. Hang out tomorrow too?" "Yeah. Can we go to a restaurant tomorrow?" you asked. "Sure. I'll see you then," he said.

You pulled him into a hug.

"Ok, bye," you said softly. "Bye, Y/n," he said.

You entered your dorm smiling, happy with your time with your boyfriend today.

“I’m sorry but you really look like you just had sex,” F/n laughed.

You scoffed and then threw your shoe at her.

“I’m sorry, but you really do,” she laughed. “I hate you,” you chuckled. “Love you too,” she smiled, blowing a kiss at you.

#tsukki #tsukishima #tsukki x you #tsukki x reader #tsukishima kei #hq tsukki #tsukki imagines #tsukkishima x reader #tsukki hcs #tsukishima headcanons #tsukishima oneshot #tsukishima kei x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines

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writingsbychlo · 4 years

Text

making amends | mitch rapp

word count; 6262

summary; Mitch makes his girl angry, and now he’s making up for it.

warnings; smut and references to violence/injury.

notes; this is totally unproofed, because I wrote it in like twelve hours to make sure y’all had something today since I took the other fic down.

“C’mon, kitten, I said I was sorry.”

Mitch’s voice felt irritatingly soft as he trailed you around the supermarket, watching as you pushed the cart and built up the groceries for your weekly shop, ignoring the way he whined a little as you continued to give him the cold-shoulder. “I thought I told you to stay at home.”

“Technically, you said ‘wash that fucking lipstick off your neck, while I go to the store’, and I did. I showered, I’m all fresh, and I’ve come to shop with you.” He bumped his hip against the edge of the cart, and you growled out, absolutely not in the mood to hear him sum up technicalities. He wandered along with you in silence for a while, occasionally reaching out to try and place a hand on your lower back, or wrap his arm around you, only to be shrugged off. It was at the bakery section, as you weighed out two different loaves of bread, staring at them intently, that he tried again; “Baby, please. It wasn’t like it was something I just did for fun, it was literally a life or death situation.”

“Was it, Rapp? Because the last time I checked, letting another woman crawl into your lap and suck on your neck was called ‘cheating’, not ‘surviving’.”

His own growl sounded out now, and he placed both hands on the front of the cart to bring it to a complete stop, the apologetic look on his face being gone as he glared at you, the intense stare-down taking place in the middle of the bread section, and it was hours overdue. “Do not call me a cheater. I didn’t kiss her, I didn’t initiate it, I just had to let it happen to keep my cover.”

“Where were your hands?”

“What?” Confusion flickered across his features, and in the middle of it all, you chose which loaf you wanted, dropping that down into the cart too, and you raised a brow at him, watching as he swallowed thickly, eyes dropping from yours for a split second. “You don’t really want me to answer that.”

“Yes, I do.”

He scratched at the back of his neck, sighing out, before his shoulders dropped. “On her ass. But, they were just sitting there, it wasn’t like-”

You turned from him, continuing on to find things in the aisles, but your head was a little lower, and he didn’t try to touch you anymore. He simply walked along beside you, adding the things he knew were weekly additions, until everything was prepared, and you had crossed everything off of your list.

He helped to load things out onto the check-out, an elderly woman behind you with far more things than she had bags for in her hands, but you turned back to Mitch, finding him playing with his hands as he stared at you. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“What?”

“Because of what happened on the assignment. Are you breaking up with me?” He finally looked up, honey-coloured eyes wide and glassy, and your angry stiffness slipped away, your body slumping a little, and you stepped slightly closer to him.

“No.”

He perked up a little, a breath of relief leaving him, and he reached out a hand, slowly to give you time to pull back, before it was settling over your jaw, and he was pulling you even closer, until your toes bumped his and breath was shared between you both, a little chuckle on his lips. “Do you want me to sleep on the couch for a few nights?”

You considered it, the pair of you shuffling up a little closer as your groceries moved, the elderly woman ahead of you still packing up, but you were in your own little bubble with the man you loved, even if, on the surface, you were angry with him. “No. You know I hate it when the bed is empty, and you only just got back. I don’t want you out of it any longer.”

He just nodded his head before closing the gap between you both, a soft kiss pressed to your lips. It was reassuring, and no matter how much you hated to give in to him so easily, it felt so right to be back in his arms, and feel the way his lips moved with your own, a pattern traced so delicately, mastered after years of practice but never any less passionate, and when you pulled away, it was with a happy hum and the feeling of warmth flooding through your body.

“I love you, you know that, right?”

“I do know that.” You grumbled, smiling to the cashier as she began to ring up your products, and you began to bag them all up, feeling him bump up against you as he came to help.

“And?”

“And what?” You knew what he wanted, and you were playing coy, but he was fixing you with a wounded stare, some kind of puppy-dog eyes, and you gave him, rolling your eyes fondly and turning away to hide your smile. “I love you, too.”

He was overly pleased with himself, chuffing as his chest puffed out, and he packed the rest of the groceries with you while making idle small talk with the young girl at the register, the poor thing rambling about her upcoming maths tests, before he was punching his PIN into the device and scooping up the bags, following you out to the car.

Loading it all into the back, he helped you climb in, before rounding the vehicle himself, and hopping up into the passenger seat. You turned to look at him as the car started, reversing out of the space, and he lifted your hand from the gear stick to pressed kisses along your knuckles once the two of you were making your way out towards the roads. “Didn’t you bring your car? I’m not driving you back here tomorrow to get it, just because you got needy and wanted to drive with me.”

“So mean.” He tutted, shaking his head, and you took your hand back from him, placing it on the wheel as you reached busier roads. “You don’t want me to sleep on the couch, but you’re still mad at me, because if you weren’t, you’d totally drive me back. It’s not there, by the way, my car is in our garage at home. I got a taxi.”

“That was optimistic.”

“Yes, it was. I would get a taxi from one end of the country to the other if it meant making you happy.” It was ridiculously romantic, and while Mitch was known for sweet-talking you, this was just sappy, his comments usually involved flirting and a playful comment as he teased you and tried to get you a little aroused. “So, please just tell me how to make it up to you, and I’ll do it.”

“Well, you can start by making me dinner.”

“I’ll make you that casserole that you like.” You hummed at the idea, enjoying the simple idea of the meal you loved so much, and he was continuing on for you, trying to charm you as he endeavoured to make it all okay again. “I’ll run you a bath too, and I’ll sit there with you the whole time, even though you know I hate baths. But, I do like the way your bath bombs smell.”

“You’re definitely getting there.”

He smirked, turning to look at you, the radio playing in the background and you could feel his eyes dragging along your body, the heavyweight of his stare on your form, and you only glanced at him, catching the cheeky look on his features. “Then, at the end of the night, I’ll take you to bed, and make you scream in all the ways I know you love, pinned to the bed as I fuck you senseless. I’ll take you apart, make you completely unravel, until you’re begging me for it.”

“No.”

His grin fell away, a little startled at the fact it hadn't been an accepted offer, and he sat up straighter from the slumped position he’d been in. “What?”

“Not tonight.” He frowned, and it was your turn to smirk, what soon became a wicked grin as excitement flooded your veins with your own idea. “You touched another girl, so tonight, you don’t get to touch me until I tell you it’s okay.”

“Kitten, I d-”

“You’ll be begging me for it. Begging me to let you cum, begging me to touch you, begging me just to kiss you.” He was gaping a little squirming in his seat. “Tonight, you can submit to me.”

“We’ve never done that before.”

“That’s because you like to dominate, all the time.” You muttered, and he sounded his agreement enthusiastically.

“And it works that way!” He reached out, to brush his fingers along your cheek comfortingly as you pulled up into the driveway, but you only pulled back, mischief taking over as you tutted at him.

“What did I say? No touching until you’re told to.” He whimpered a little, scowling at you as he pulled back his hand.

“Baby, don’t do this to me. I like to touch you, and hold you, and kiss you. I want to take care of you. Let me take care of you.” You only shook your head, killing the engine and taking back the keys, before you were leaning over the centre console just far enough to press a kiss to his lips, and he whined when you pulled back far too soon for his liking, before he’d even had a chance to tangle his fingers in your hair and lick at you lower lip like he normally would. “This is going to be torture.”

“That’s the whole point.”

Mitch did his best to do as told, he really did, but it was hard. He wasn’t used to being told what to do when it came to you, he was used to being the one giving orders, and doing the teasing, and being able to take what he wanted whenever he wanted it. Every time he kissed you, instinct kicking in, before you’d told him he could, you made sure to stick an extra five minutes onto the time before you got to the fun stuff, and you were loving it.

He looked physically pained when you’d told him you wanted to watch a movie before your bath, to use up the extra time he’d earned by growling and pinning you to the edge of the counter when dinner had been ready and you’d made a show of bending over the oven to pull it out, and while he had insisted that it had been worth it, he was now reaping the consequences. You did love him though, and so half-way through you’d given in to his sad pouting and sulking, shuffling across the cushions into his arms, letting him wrap you up tightly as he curled around you to hold on, your back pressed to his chest as he pressed kisses to your cheeks and jaw, anywhere he could reach as he craned his head around to you, and your fingers had woven together.

That was when you found yourself in a much similar position, warm water swaying around you as your fingers danced over the bubble on the surface, entertaining yourself as you drew patterns, and Mitch’s chin was hooked over your shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around you. Your hair was pinned up to keep it dry, and he was entertaining himself by blowing a strand continuously, watching as it darted up into the air, before falling back against your cheek, tickling you as it did, before he was repeating it all over again.

“Will you stop that? You’re making my cheek cold.”

“Sorry, baby.” He did as told, moving to press a wet kiss to your skin, the cool blows he’d been letting out having chilled that side of your face, and he nuzzled against the spot as he pulled away. “You know how bored I get in the bath. I don’t see the point.” You did know that, but you wanted to sit here a little longer, because as much as he hated it, you liked baths, and there was plenty that you did for him that you weren’t as fond of. Like watching every single baseball match that came on with him, and recording the ones he missed while he was away.

“Just a little bit longer.”

“As long as you want, kitten.” You smiled a little at his voice, your eyes fluttering closed as you settled your head back against his shoulder, feeling the stubble on the underside of his jaw brush against the top of your head as you did, and he leaned it against you, trying to relax himself. “Don’t you feel like we’re just sitting in our own dirt, though?”

“You ask me that every single time. Even when you’re not even in the bath.”

He chuckled, nodding his head a little, before finding your hands under the water, and weaving your fingers with his own. “I know, but showers are just better.” You hummed, barely acknowledging his statement, having heard the argument dozens of times, but letting him play it out, anyway. “They’re just cleaner! All the dirt and grime washes away, and they don’t get cold like a bath does, it’s always hot - well, until the water heater runs out - but they're quicker, too!”

“Uh-huh..”

He huffed, knowing he’d lost your attention, and you felt his thumb raise up to play with your own as he tried to entertain himself. “Besides, we can have fun in the shower.” You knew what he was hinting at, the tone of his voice gave it away, and your mind conjured up an image you were sure was accurate, brows wiggling a little as he grinned cheekily at his flirty comment, and you scoffed.

“We can still have fun in the bath.”

You took his hand, his interest peaking as you dragged it down over wet skin, across your stomach, until the water was shifting as you parted your legs from where they were crossed, and the deep rumble in his chest was more than enough to show his enthusiasm, taking control over his limb as you let go, fingers drifting gently over your core as the surface rippled. Are you finally gonna’ let me touch you?”

“You’ve been touching me all night.” You taunted, and he nipped gently on your shoulder, still stroking his fingers slowly over your folds, waiting for the real permission, finally having learned not to just take what he wanted, hours of being denied making him patient as he waits on the precipice of getting what he really wanted.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” The tip of his nose dragged over your temple, lips following, and you gave in, the sweet and loving touches being all too much. You had already forgiven him, and deep down, you weren't even sure there had ever been anything to forgive. He did what he had to do not to blow his cover, to stay alive and to get the information he needed to get home to you quicker, but it didn’t make it any easier to picture the man you loved so much letting another woman take your place, even if it didn’t mean anything to him. “You can touch me, Mitch. I need you to.”

He let out a happy breath, fingers immediately working to part your folds, dragging calloused fingertips up gently, until he could circle your clit. “Missed you so much while I was away. You have no idea, I hate having to leave, especially when I don’t know how long it’ll be.”

“Every time you leave scares, I think you won’t come back.”

You lifted a hand, lacing it into his hair carefully, wet fingers making the strands damp, sticking to your fingers as your nails scratched over his scalp in the way you knew he loved, the shiver you felt as you did only confirming it. A single digit eased around your entrance, slipping in slowly, and your back arched as you finally felt yourself connecting with him again. You couldn't help it, the moan that fell from your lips as he pumped the sole finger slowly, and he whispered soothing words softly into your ear as he tightened the arm around your waist.

“Mitch..”

“I know, baby, I got you.” A second finger stretched you out, the pace picking up, water beginning to splash a little up the edges of the tub, and you moved, enough to be able to turn your head fully, lip finding his, and he moaned softly into your mouth as you did. Soft teasings, that only a second later became teeth grazing your lower lip, and tongues tangling as dove further into you, head tipping to the side and hand gripping your waist even more tightly.

The coil in your stomach was tightening, your hips rocking up into his hand as you began to crave your peak, needing to feel everything you’d missed so long since he’d been away. The heel of his hand was rubbing against your swollen bud, his mouth dragging from your own when your head began to spin as you gasped for breath, feeling him move along your neck to find the spot he knew so well, licking and sucking his way, stinging flesh that threatened to turn to bruises, before he was finding the spot within you that threw you over the edge.

There were whimpers of his name as you unraveled, walls clamping around long and slender digits as he eased you through your peak, a cry of his name that was quickly muffled as his mouth descended over your own once again, and then you were coming down, feeling him pull away from your core, leaving you empty as he pulled back. “I’m never leaving you, kitten. I promise, I’ll always come home to you. You are home.”

You could only nod, twisting in his arms straddle his lap, your hands cupping his face as he stared up at you, a small smile on his lips as he felt your thumbs smoothing over his cheeks, and you couldn't help but return it. While there had been no official confirmation of it, you knew where this was headed. When he’d asked whether you were breaking up with him, even at that moment, you’d both know it would never happen, because he was your end game, and you were his, and you never needed to say it, because it was evident in every moment of every day that you spent with him.

“I love you, so much. You know you’re my forever, right?”

“I know.” You whispered, pecking his lips gently when he puckered them for you, and he leaned in further, keeping your forehead pressed to his, even when you pulled away. “I love you too.” He grinned, one of your hands trailing down from his cheek to his chest, hard muscles littered with little scars, bumps of pink flesh that you were so used to tracing with your lips on the quiet nights when he needed a little more reassurance. Tensing and flexing under your touch, you shuffled back, sitting across muscled thighs, before wrapping your fingers gently around his half-hard cock, and he bucked up into your touch.

His lips parted, mouth falling open, and you grinned as his head tipped back, body sinking further down into the water, head resting on the edge of the tub. Your other hand found the metal beside his head, leaning in to kiss and bite your way along his throat, and a whimper found it’s way to the surface leaning even further to let you have that more access, your lips sealing onto the place his neck and shoulders met. You could tell that much by the broken noise he let out, cock throbbing in your hand as he became fully hard, and water dripped from his hands as he lifted them to find your hips, groping tightly as he rolled up to meet your slow pumps.

You slowed down, even more, grip tightening as you waited for him to beg, the same way he’d promised you would be, before you’d turned the tables on him. You’d never had much of a chance to see him this way, to take him apart slowly, piece by piece until he was begging you for it, and you gave in, moving your hand a little faster each time he moaned out, before a needy whine was the loudest sound yet;

“Kitten, stop teasing me, please.”

“But, it’s so much fun. That’s what you like to do to me.” He cracked his eyes open, somehow finding the strength to lift his head, muscles stiff as he neared the edge, but a defiant look was flashing through his eyes. “Don’t you remember, the time you made me wait hours to cum, I lost count of how many times you brought me to the edge, before letting me wind back down? I remember, I was shaking and crying, begging you for it, and when you finally let me cum, it was so good that everything went blank, and it took almost half an hour for everything to come back into focus.”

He smirked a little, the expression quickly dropping as his mouth formed an ‘o’ shape when you toyed with the patch under the tip of his cock that made him go weak, before you were slowing down once again, and a desperate sound left him. “I remember. How could I not? You were wearing my favourite lingerie, and it was the first time you squirted. It was incredible.”

“Well, you made me wait that night, so now, you get to wait.”

“No, no, please. I’m so close, I’m gonna’ come, kitten.” You stopped, hand stilling around him, before you were letting him go, solid cock bobbing in the water as a sob left him, and you caught his wrist in your hands before he could take his pleasure into his own hands. You knew very well that he could overpower you if he wanted to, and it looked like he was going to, before he was giving in, a defeated look on his face as his arms went loose in your grasp. “You really are torturing me.”

“Oh, honey, you’ll get what you want in the end.”

“Yeah, but how long do I have to wait?” He grumbled, watching as you stood up, dark eyes raking over your naked and wet form, licking his lips and grinning happily as you stepped out of the bath, just happy it was finally over. He pulled the plug on the drain, the water began to slip away, before he was following you, grabbing a towel from the rack himself and chasing after you to the bedroom as you dried yourself as you walked.

A hand reached out, finding your waist as he turned you to face him, and you let him do so, before you were pushing him backwards, waiting for the back of his legs to find the bed and he fell backwards, sitting on the edge of the mattress, both towels falling away. “Tell me what you want, Mitch.”

“I want to come.” He hissed, a scowl on his face, and you tutted at his attitude, a shocked look flittering over your lover’s features at the sound. You were having fun at his extent, the role reversal being more than he could handle, but he forced himself to relax, shaking himself down and slumping down on the bed, his hands being all that was holding him up now. “I just want to come.”

“‘Course you do, and we’ll get to that, but not yet. Tell me what else you want.”

He considered it all, before a lopsided smile was taking over, and he was resting himself back against the covers. “If I tell you, will you give it to me?”

“Isn’t that what you always do for me? Take care of me, give me what I want without really giving me what I want.” He chuckled, nodding his head, and he watched as you moved around the bed, pulling the scrunchie from your hair and letting it fall free once again.

“I would love it if you sucked my cock.” You grinned a little, his own hands twitching by his side as his cock bobbed in the air, angry and flushed, leaking precum at the tip as he balanced on the verge of coming. “Just the way you know I like it, when you let me fuck your mouth, choking on my cock, you look so pretty like that. I like it especially much when you let me paint your beautiful face, sticky and white.” He snickered at his own words, and you raised a brow, sinking to your knees between his thighs, and he propped himself up on his elbows as he waited for you to make a move.

“You’re trying to top from the bottom, Mitch Rapp. That’s not allowed.”

“Yeah, well, you already won’t let me cum. What else are you going to do?” He was so sure of himself, so confident, and so you traced your tongue along his length, top to bottom, and his stomach clenched up, lines of his muscles clear, and you chuckled as he reached a hand out towards you, the intention of lacing it into your hair.

“You can’t touch.”

“What?” He was startled, and you repeated your motion, making sure to swirl the wet article around the head of his cock now too, and his hips bucked upwards, cock smeared across your cheek, and you glared falsely at him, taking him in your hand.

“You asked what else I was going to do. You tested me. Now, you don’t get to touch, either. I know just how much you like to do that.”

He let out a string of curses, collapsing back into laying down once again, fingers twisting in the bedsheets as he tried to contain himself, and you wanted to push his limits a little more. Sealing your lips around him, you sank your way along his cock, until he was tapping the back of your throat, and a pathetic sound left him as the sheets shifted under his hold, pulling tight as he tried to contain himself. His hips were moving, pushing up into your mouth as he tried to get even deeper within the wet heat of your mouth, but your nails dug into his thighs, making him tremble as they dropped back down, body curling in on himself a little bit at the shock of the sting that moved along his body.

Pleas fell from him from the moment your cheeks hollowed around him, tight and filthy, and you swallowed around him as you leaned down far enough to feel his tip hitting the back of your throat. The burn in your eyes was something you loved, tears slipping down your cheek as you gagged along his length, swallowing around him. Everything within you wanted to please him, to bring him to his peak, to hear him growl out your name alongside sweet praises as he always did, but today, it was different. Today, you were in charge, you were taking him apart, and you pulled back for breath, your hand finding his spit-slick cock and pumping quickly.

“Oh, shit, baby..” He was gasping for breath, body rigid and tense as you leaned over him, kissing along his stomach, tracing his happy trail with the tip of your tongue as he sighed, before sucking a bruise into the pale flesh of his hip bone. “Please, please, fuck, let me come..”

“You’re doing so good, though..” You mumbled, words whispered into his skin, and as you felt him near that peak, you pulled away once again, ignoring his sobs as he was left dry, and you tried to suppress your thrill, kissing your way up his body slowly, and his eyes were still screwed up when you reached his face, features softening as you leaned in to kiss him.

He was more than eager, searching for any kind of contact at this point, and he lifted his head to meet you halfway. When you licked along the seam of his lips, he parted them happily, letting you explore his mouth as though you’d never done so before, coaxing him to join you until you could feel the tension slip away from his body, relaxing under your touch, the bedding falling loose again as his fingers uncurled from them.

Taking his hands, one at a time, you lifted them up, pinning them over his head, and ignoring the way he let out needy noises into your mouth, muscles twitching under your skin as you trailed your fingertips back along his arms, featherlight touches that made him jerk a little as they tickled him. Taking a seat across his lap once again, joint sounds of pleasure erupted from the both of you as your sodden heat pressed along his length.

Rocking your hips, you pushed down against him, and his head was pressing into the bedding, dark tufts of hair looking more than inviting to tangle your fingers in you rode him, something you rarely ever got to do, but your body was singing out, and you were more than happy to take this opportunity as it reared its head. The tip of his cock grazed your clit each time, you could feel every throb he made, and with a simple shift of your hips, he was lined up at your entrance, ready to sink into your welcoming warmth when you let him.

His eyes met your own, and he lifted his head from where it lay flat, eyes dropping down to the place where you both connected, before they were rolling back in his head as you finally sank down onto him.

“Oh, fucking hell, I’ve never loved your pussy more than right now.” He hissed the words out through gritted teeth, and you gave yourself a second to adjust, feeling the width of him stretching you out as your breath felt knocked from your lungs. That same desperate rigidity was back, short puffs of air as he struggled not to come undone, but then you rocked your hips, lifting yourself up just enough to slam down onto him, squeezing him as you did and with a loud cry, he broke.

Ribbons of hot cum spattered your walls, filling you up in the most delicious way, the same way that always made you feel weak, your body trembling atop his as you tried to keep up your pace, the way he was sobbing and moaning your name was something so erotic you wondered why you’d never thought to want it before, and now, you knew why he dragged it out for you. It was a mind-blowing pleasure, the kind that made our head spin, and you’d always been on the receiving end of it, but you could see the appeal from his side. It made something that made you feel powerful, and confident, and entirely beautiful in your own skin, to see the effect you could have on another person, even through your insecurities, as you watched him fall apart.

“Holy shit, that was incredible.”

His words were slurred, choked out through a contented sigh, before he was moaning again, thrusting up weakly into you as you continued to take what you needed and never once did he soften within you, he just continued to stay the way he was, his thighs tensing behind you as he pulled his feet up to rest flat on the bed.

“That’s it, kitten. Ride me, you look so fucking good on my cock, tits bouncing, you’re absolutely perfect.” He was biting down on his lower lip, that one orgasm seeming to have cleared his mind, because he was right back to being the cocky tease you knew and loved, and as you felt your own peak climbing up, you fell forwards. Hands on his chest to support yourself, he pushed up into you as your nails dug into his chest, revelling in the little bursts of pain, it gave to him. “Please, kitten, you made me feel good. Let me make you feel good, too.”

His eyes were honest, and pure, and the way he bit down on his lower lip as he tried to fuck up into you was your final breaking point. “Yes.”

As soon as the words had left your mouth, you were flipped over, onto your back and his length left you as he did, before wide hands were parting your thighs, a flat tongue smoothing over your folds as he greedily took everything you had to give him, lapping at the slick that coated your thighs, a mixture of you and him, cleaning you of everything that had amounted, and your hands came down to tangle in his hair. Tugging harshly, he growled, biting down on the inside of your right thigh roughly until you yelped, jerking away from him, and he kissed over the patch carefully to soothe it, before two fingers were plunging into your centre and setting a speed you could barely comprehend.

“Mitch!”

“That’s right, sweetheart, scream my name. That’s how it should be.” He was more than boasting, his ego shooting through the roof as your entire body quivered, and he pressed his other hand down flat onto your stomach to pin you down, roughly fucking you onto his fingers as you shot over the edge. Gushing arousal, you cried out, his pace never letting up as your back arched, eyes rolling and your screams went silent at this point, jaw slack. “I want to punish you, I want you to know that torture, but then again, I suppose I deserved it. Now, we’re even. I want you to have a climax like I did.”

“Fuck, I can’t, Mitch!”

“Yes, you can! You said that last time, but you came better than you ever did before. You came so good it went on for almost two full minutes.” He smirked, and you could feel that same kind of blinding ecstasy shooting through you, head to toe as every nerve lit up, and those same fingers left you for a second, before he was filling you up with something much larger. He wasted no time, cock pounding in and out of you as you clung to him frantically, nails dragging marks into his back.

Frenzied kisses, a bruising pace, and then you were exploding, tears running down your cheeks as he eased you through it, following you into a second peak less than before but as he felt you explode, he followed suit. A chant of his name, a series of curses, wet kisses that were more just gasps for breath as your mouths melded lazily, before his sweaty form was collapsing down on top of you, spent and weak, and you held onto him tightly.

Your heart was still racing, so fast you thought it may actually give out, and then he was rolling off of you, trying to catch his breath as that same fucked out but blissful expression took over on his face. “As much as I hated that, I can’t deny that it was incredible.”

“Mhm.”

He cooed, rolling over and pulling you into him as exhaustion and laziness took over, and for a few minutes, you couldn't even force your eyes open. Just the feeling of his fingers stroking up and down your back, tracing your spine as he soothed you, before you were lifting your head, curling into him a little more as you threw a leg over his own, and he gripped onto you tightly.

“Next time, let’s do it the usual way.”

“I absolutely agree.”

He could only laugh, body shaking a little under your touch, before he was bringing his head up to peer at you, catching your lips in a simple kiss, before placing you down in the pillows. Wriggling the blanket out from under your body, he covered both of your naked forms with it, the heat having died down, and you were reaching out for him again, pulling him closer to you as you sought out his warmth and affections.

“I meant it, by the way.”

“Meant what?” You whispered, fingers brushing over a yellowing bruise over his ribs that you hadn't noticed until now, but wanted to heal, and protect him again, now that he was home.

“That you’re my forever.” A hand petting your hair, lips brushing your temple, and you were barely hanging on to consciousness, but these were words you wanted to hear. “I don’t want anyone else. Just you, I love you with everything I have. I know sometimes I’m not great at showing it, but it’s true. Sometimes I just need you to show me the way.”

“Well, you can show it by making me breakfast tomorrow morning.” You joked, a loud laugh leaving him, and you groaned as his chest shook under your cheek, before you were grinning yourself.

“I manage to muster up the ability to say all that soppy shit, and that’s what you give me in return?” He pinched you lightly, happy with himself as you yelped, before he was rubbing the tender spot gently. “I hate you.”

“I love you, too.”

#Mitch Rapp #mitch rapp x reader #mitch rapp x reader smut #mitch rapp/reader #mitch rapp/reader smut #mitch rapp American assassin #mitch month #mitch-tober #mitchtober #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader smut #dylan obrien mitch rapp #dylan obrien american assassin

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mammonshuman92 · 3 years

Text

- Watched -

Mammon & GN!MC

** TW: Stalking, cussing, religion (ish? I guess?)

| part two | | part three |

It’s been nearly 6 months since you left the Devildom. You picked up where you had left off in the human world: college, work, home, repeat. Sure, you missed your family while you were away, but now your heart aches almost constantly for the new family you loved so much, that you had to leave behind. (Not that you really had a choice in the matter.)

As much as it hurt to leave the brothers, Diavolo was right. Establishing harmony and unity with the three realms won’t go over too well if one of the human representatives doesn’t go back to the human world, now will it? Still, it sucks. Life is so boring without all of them.

And quiet.

It’s not like you don’t talk though. Yeah, Diavolo has that rule in place where they have to take turns talking to you because “human’s lives are short” and they were “taking up too much of your time”, but that’s not really going to stop them, is it?

Well kinda, actually.

You can’t really argue with a direct order from the demon lord, after all.

Is it Asmo's day to call? You thought to yourself, trying to remember (not that you ever could) the schedule Lucifer came up with. Your own schedule was hard enough to remember.

You had been picking up extra shifts at work and staying late to study at school when you could. Finding any reason to stay busy or get out of the house. The deafening silence was too much to bear.

"I wonder when I can go visit? I should call Diavolo.." you said to yourself quietly.

You were walking home from your shift at the coffee shop near campus. The sun was just starting to set and the air was slightly crisp, causing you to pull your jacket a little tighter.

If it weren't for the brilliant pinks and warm oranges cast on the sky by the setting sun, it would've felt like a regular night in the Devildom. Memories of your last few days spent there came flooding back, bringing the sadness along with them.

In just one year, you had gotten so close to everyone, but you had gotten especially close to Mammon. He was responsible for you in the beginning of course, but the connection was undeniable (no matter how much he did deny it). He was a total simp for you, and you for him. It was rather cringey to everyone else. He could be a handful at times, but that tsundere really is a great boyfriend. Leaving him behind was... well, there's no words for it.

Rounding the corner, you could see your house perfectly. Now that the sun had gone down a bit more, it was getting darker and you were suddenly thankful that you remembered to turn on the porch light before you left.

You pulled your keys from your jacket pocket while climbing the few steps to your front door, and something caught your eye. Your stomach dropped.

Not again..

You plucked the folded piece of paper that was stuck in the screen door and quickly made your way inside, locking the door behind you.With a heavy sigh, you tossed your keys on the table by the door and dropped your bag on the floor beside you. You immediately went to shower and change not giving the paper a second thought.

Not everyone in the human world agreed with the Devildom exchange student program. After you and Solomon had arrived in the Devildom, there were numerous protests by a group much like the Westboro lunatics. They were without a doubt against the program and called for it’s immediate termination. Thankfully, their personal hatred was no match for the opportunity for the realms to find peace.

When you had returned, you noticed people whispering about you, calling you names and giving you dirty looks. You've even received quite a few pieces of hate mail. Granted, the people opposed to the program were very small in numbers, even if it didn’t seem that way. It didn't bother you though. Demons ended up being some of the most important people to you. Not to mention you were kinda in love with one of them. People could say what they wanted about the Devildom and about you, their words didn't bother you.

You were still towel drying your hair when your phone rang. Tossing the towel, you rushed to the living room to fish it out of your bag, Asmo's face popping up on the caller ID. You were right, it was Asmo’s night. You were secretly hoping it was a certain greedy demon’s turn to call (not that he doesn’t text you almost constantly.)

Asmo was the same as usual. Talking animatedly about this and that, gushing over new beauty products and outfits, filling you in on all the gossip you were missing. While he was rambling, your eyes fell onto the paper that was in your door. Might as well look at the newest piece of hate mail, right?

You began unfolding the paper, quickly giving Asmo an “omg!” about the gossip he was dishing (even though you hadn’t been paying attention.)

Upon seeing the contents, all the color drained from your face. You were sure your heart sank into your stomach, but you could hear the rapid beating in your ears. You suddenly felt hot, and the air around you seemed thick.

Then the adrenaline kicked in.

With shaky hands, you quickly checked the front door making sure it was locked, and headed to the back door to do the same. You rushed around checking the windows and pulling all the curtains closed. Everything seemed fine, nothing out of the ordinary. Still, that didn’t settle your nerves any.

“MC, dear? Did you hear me?” The sound of Asmo’s voice brought you out of your frantic state.

“Huh? S-sorry Asmo. I guess I s-spaced out.” You tried your best to keep your tone normal and steady your breathing, as to not alert him to anything. You really should give him more credit, though.

“MC? Is everything alright?” His tone was different, no longer playful and flirty. You could hear the concern.

Shit.

“Yeah, I’m fine. More hate mail is all. No biggie.” You lied. Maybe he would believe it..

There was a pause on his end, “You’re STILL getting it? Don’t they have anything better to do?” Good, he bought it. For now, anyway.

After about 10 more minutes Asmo said his goodbyes, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

This piece hate mail turned out to be something much worse than the run of the mill stuff you usually received. Inside there were pictures. Of you. At work, at school, the grocery store, ...outside your house. There was also a newspaper clipping that had a picture of you and your family, from when your parents first opened their bakery a few years back. There were red ‘Xs’ marked through everyone’s faces...

The only words scrawled inside read, “I’ve been watching you. You will pay for what you’ve done, whore. And don’t even think about telling your demon fuck buddies. I know everything about you and your family. It’d be a shame if anything happened to poor old Mom and Dad because their child is an unholy slut.”

You read it over and over, tears streaking your cheeks. Hate mail was nothing new, but now this? A stalker?

Maybe I’m just over thinking it. The other hate mail was spicy too. But these pictures... There is NO way I’m over thinking this..

“Regardless, I can’t tell the brothers.” You shuddered at what their reaction would be like. It would definitely make all of Diavolo’s hard work on the exchange program obsolete. It wouldn’t be good for any of the three realms. There was still a long way to go, but the program was a giant step in the right direction to obtaining peace and understanding. If dealing with some backlash and hate mail could help get closer to that goal, then for the sake of the greater could, you could handle it.

“For now, I will bear this burden myself.”

- {3 weeks later} -

“Are you okay?”

The simple question nearly made you squeak and nearly jump out of your skin. You turn and meet the worried gaze of your lab partner. You weren’t super close with her, so you knew your current state had to be bad if she was picking up on it.

God, do I really look that bad? You got a good look at yourself this morning, and yeah, you absolutely look that bad. But then again, you haven’t really slept in a few weeks. You had gigantic purple eye bags, your hair looked like a family of birds took up residence in it. Your skin was pale and lifeless, and you began skin picking at your nails due to the anxiety. You’d even lost about twenty pounds.

“Sorry, I guess I was spacing out.”

“It’s alright. It’s just- no offense, but you look awful. Have you been sleeping?” She asked, eyes scanning your face.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I'm fine. Promise.” You lied. She nodded and gave you a weak smile, dropping the subject for now.

You hadn’t really been paying attention to class today. Well, for the last several days, really. You’ve been putting in less effort for a lot of things lately. You’ve been slacking off bad at school and barely keeping up at work. Not to mention you never sleep anymore. How can you though?

You left class early and although it was still early in the day, you decided to skip the rest of your lectures for the day. You’ve always been a fantastic student, so taking a day off wouldn’t really hurt anything. And seeing as today was Thursday, you didn’t even have work today. Same as every week.

Upon arriving home, you were relieved to see that there weren’t any notes left for you. Yet, anyway.

Ever since the first letter a few weeks ago, they’ve been showing up constantly. Only a few times the first week or so, but now you get at least one every single day. They’re also increasing in severity. The sender seems to be becoming more and more unhinged with every passing day.

“Dirty demon whore!!”

“You’re a HUMAN!! How dare you taint your body with demons!”

“I will cleanse you and make you pure again.”

There was so, so much more. All of it growing more and more explicit with each letter.

The whole thing was taking a huge tool on you, but what could you do? Your family’s safety was on the line. You so badly wanted to tell Mammon of even the cops, but you couldn’t live with yourself if anything bad were to happen. Whatever this psycho had planned, you would gladly put yourself in the line of fire to save those closest to you.

The whole situation has also affected your relationship with Mammon and the rest of the brothers as well. At first, you tried to hide what was happening, but they started getting suspicious and asking questions. Always wondering why you sounded so tired and why you kept cutting their phone calls super short. You always rejected their face time requests, knowing that your drastic change in appearance would be alarming and alert them that something was wrong. Lately, you’ve barely talked to any of them. Especially Mammon. He’d be the first to figure out something was wrong with you and come here ready to fight.

That honestly didn’t sound too bad. You wanted nothing more than for him to hold you while you ugly cried. Breathing in his scent while he rubbed soothing circles on your back.

Your heart started to ache.

When you got home you decided to take a nice, hot shower to hopefully help ease some of your tension and possibly begin to get a handle on your quickly deteriorating self care status.

Once you felt somewhat normal again, you put on your comfiest pj’s (which included one of Mammon’s shirts) and plopped yourself on your bed in the fetal position. It was the only thing that kinda helped ease a tiny bit of the feeling that everything was spiraling out of control. The warm scent of your most favorite demon helped calm you.

*bzzz* *bzzz* *bzzz*

Damn. I almost fell asleep..

You sat up, rubbing your eyes and reached for your D.D.D. on your nightstand. The called ID made your heart rate accelerate and your palms sweaty.

It’s him.

“Mammon..? I thought it was Beel’s turn to call?”

“I don’t care about Lucifer’s stupid schedule. I need to talk to ya.” His tone made him sound like he was on edge.

“Oh, ok. What’s up?”

He scoffed, “Really? You’ve barely messaged me back in three days. The last time I called, ya hung up after five minutes.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy.” Every lie helps break your heart just a little more.

“You’ve never been too busy before. Besides, shouldn’t ya be in a class right now or somethin’? It ain’t even noon.”

“I left class early and I’m skipping the rest of the day.” You explained.

“..Hmm.” He replied, you could detect suspicion in his response.

It was quiet on his end for a moment.

“MC?”

“Yeah?”

“..Do ya got another boyfriend? Cause The Great Mammon is definitely better! And-and, I’ll kick their ass!”

“What? Mammon, no. One boyfriend is almost more than I can handle.”

“Wha- hey!”

For the first time in who knows when, you actually giggled. It felt so good.

“So, you swear nothin’ is wrong? You’ve been actin’ so weird.” His voice was heavy with concern.

“Yeah, I swear.” Lie.

As good as it felt to talk to him, you needed to end the call before he ended up dragging the truth out of you. If any one could figure out what was wrong with you, it’d be him. The two of you had spent so much time together, that you can practically read each other like a book.

“I gotta go, ok? I have work later and I need to get ready.” Lie. But, you needed to get off the phone with him before he suspects anything.

“Yeah, sure.” He sounded so defeated. You could almost hear him pouting.

After a quicker goodbye than you usually have when getting off the phone with Mammon, you fell back onto your bed with a heavy sigh.

That was a little rough, but he seemed to believe it. I hope this will all be over soon.

With that, you quickly fell asleep, lulled by the memory of your demon’s voice. Although you wouldn’t sleep long, at least you got to fall asleep to the thought of him.

*bzzz* *bzzz* *bzzz*

Geez, are ya gonna answer or not? Ya always pick up on the second ring when I call ya.., Mammon thought.

Finally, on the sixth ring, “Mammon..? I thought it was Beel’s turn to call?”

Man, hearing your voice is like music.

“I don’t care about Lucifer’s stupid schedule. I need to talk to ya.” His tone made him sound a little rougher than intended, but it was all the same. He needed to hear you voice.

“Oh, ok. What’s up?”

He scoffed, “Really? You’ve barely messaged me back in three days. The last time I called, ya hung up after five minutes.”

I miss ya like crazy. Ya keep avoiding me..

“Oh. I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy.”

Huh? But, MC is always busy doing somethin’ and it never stopped em’ before..

He started getting an uneasy feeling deep in his stomach. He could tell something was off, but he just didn’t know what it was.

Is it ...someone else? Nah, MC wouldn’t do that. ...Right??

“You’ve never been too busy before. Besides, shouldn’t ya be in a class right now or somethin’? It ain’t even noon.” He didn’t try to hide the pout, that he knew you could hear, in his voice. His own thoughts were beginning to hurt his feelings.

“I left class early and I’m skipping the rest of the day.” MC explained.

“..Hmm.” He hummed. Thoughts started swirling around in his head.

MC never skips school, not even at RAD. Somethin’ is definitely going on. And what’s with the short answers? MC always talks like crazy. Maybe they’re mad at me?

It was quiet for a moment while he tried to sort through his thoughts.

“MC?” He asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

“..D-do ya got another boyfriend? Cause The Great Mammon is definitely better! And-and, I’ll kick their ass!”

“What? Mammon, no. One boyfriend is almost more than I can handle.”

“Wha- hey!” You giggled at his response. It was small, but he heard it. It made his heart swim.

All joking aside, he did believe you. Something was definitely not right with you though.

“So, you swear nothin’ is wrong? You’ve been actin’ so weird.” His voice was heavy with concern.

“Yeah, I swear.” Those three words caused his heart to sink.

That was a lie.. MC only says ‘I swear’ while tryin’ to act like somethin’ ain’t wrong..

He pushed his thoughts aside for the time being and continued the conversation. It only lasted a few more minutes before you started saying your goodbyes. Again, cutting the call short.

“I gotta go, ok? I have work later and I need to get ready.”

Hmm. Why does that seem weird?

“Yeah, sure.” He sounded so defeated.

There was, without a doubt in his mind, something going on. Something that would make you lie to him..

One way or another, he was going to find out.

“Mammon? Are you alright?”

Mammon was sprawled out on the couch in the common room. After talking to you, he was lost in his thoughts and feeling rather down. Beel passed by the common room on his was back from the kitchen when he saw his older brother. Noticing that he looked sad, Beel went to investigate.

Mammon looked up to meet Bee’s concerned gaze and with a sigh, he sat up.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Mammon said, as he stood up to leave. Beel could tell he was obviously lying, but decided not to press the issue.

Mammon stopped a few paces away from Beel, and turned back around to face him.

“Hey, Beel. Was MC actin’, I don’t know, “off”, the last time ya talked to em’?” He asked the sixth born, thinking maybe you had accidentally let something slip.

Beel’s face seemed to twist up a little bit, and he nodded.

“Yeah, kind of. MC used to sound excited when I called, but now they hardly talk at all. And they used to send me pictures of the food they were eating and new recipes, at least twice a day, but it’s been about two weeks since the last one they sent.” He explained, sadness in his voice. While in the Devildom, you were his favorite person to eat with.

Mammon nodded at his brother, getting lost in his thoughts again.

So, it’s not just me. MC is actin’ strange with Beel too..

Neither of them had paid been paying enough attention to see Asmo enter the room.

“Mammon, there you are. I’m going out, and I need my new bag from Majolish. The one I let you borrow. And i swear, if you sold it-” Asmo stopped mid sentence when he noticed the sad state two of his brothers.

“Is it about MC?” He asked, nonchalaunt.

Mammon’s head snapped toward his brother.

“What do you mean? Did they say somethin’ to ya?” Mammon asked quickly, taking a few steps closer to his brother.

MC and Asmo always gossip with each other, so maybe they’d tell him somethin’..

“Calm down. MC really hasn’t talked to me much in the last month. I’m so hurt! Who else am I going to talk beauty products with? Lucifer? Goodness, no.”

“Asmo!” Mammon said loudly, trying to get the fifth born back on track.

“Oh, right. Let’s see.” He put a finger to his chin and thought about it. “Hmm. The only thing I can think of was during the last normal conversation I had with them. They said something about receiving a piece of hate mail. They said it was no big deal, but I distinctly remember MC seemed flustered by it. Which I thought was weird, considering it’s definitely not the first one they’d received..” Asmo explained.

Hate mail? MC has only mentioned it to me a couple times. Do they really get it that often..?

“How long ago was that?” Mammon asked. He felt like he was on the brink of something. Just a few more puzzle pieces..

“Hmm, it was right before MC started acting distant toward me. So, about three or four weeks, maybe.” Asmo explained. That’s around the time you had started acting weird with Mammon too.

“So, maybe something happened to MC.” Beel suggested.

“No, MC would tell us. ..Right?” Asmo questioned.

Mammon was so confused.

What is goin’ on with you, MC?

After talking with his brothers, Mammon holed himself up in his room. He didn’t really want to be around anyone at the moment. His thoughts were driving him crazy and giving him a headache. What was he not seeing? What piece of the puzzle was he missing?

He started going over your last conversation again, for the millionth time, looking for any kind of clue. But, you seemed normal. Well, your new normal, anyway. Distant, short answers, not giving too much to the conversation. What were you hiding?

It was something about the end of your conversation, but what was it?

He remembered your small giggle. The memory caused a smile to break out across his face. It gave him a tiny bit of hope that you were still there. That you still loved him. That whatever was troubling you, wasn’t making you forget them completely.

It was after that though. You had said “I swear”, which was a red flag, considering you only say it when you’re trying to convince him you’re ok when you’re really not.

He sighed, and rolled over on his bed. He looked at the alarm clock on his night stand, numbers glowing an angry red.

MC is probably at work right now..

Something caught his eye.

Today is Thursday... MC never works on Thursday. I guess the schedule coulda changed. No, cause MC specifically requested to always have that day off for some reason. Delivery day at their family’s bakery, I think. ...MC lied, again..

Then it hit him.

The small little lies. Avoiding all of them, even him for weeks now. Barely talking when you do answer the phone. The way you always sounded so tired and out of it.

It had something to do with what Asmo said about the hate mail.

“Hmm. The only thing I can think of was during the last normal conversation I had with them. They said something about receiving a piece of hate mail. They said it was no big deal, but I distinctly remember MC seemed flustered by it. Which I thought was weird, considering it’s definitely not the first one they’d received..”

Mammon didn’t even know that you’d been receiving that much hate mail. Sure, you’d told him about it a couple times, but he didn’t think it was that bad. Maybe it was actually pretty serious. Is that why you’d been so distant.

Mammon got up from his bed, and began pacing around the room. He almost had it figured out, he could feel it.

Asmo said MC seemed flustered, so it had to have somethin’ to do with the hate mail they received that day, since after that is when MC started actin’ weird.What if it’s somethin’ bad. Like, bad bad.

He stopped pacing.

The thought of MC being in danger was...

Mammon grabbed his jacket, where it was thrown onto the pool table and left his room in a hurry. He was on his way to Lucifer’s study, mentally preparing himself on the way. He was sure he knew what his brother’s answer would be, but he wasn’t going to just sit here. He needed to know that you were, in fact alright, with his own eyes.

I’m going to the human world. Whether Lucifer allows it or not.

| part two | | part three |

#obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me #mammon x mc

86 notes · View notes

sigillaria-svt · 3 years

Text

Apartment Dates

One-Shot Scenario

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x Reader

Word Count: 1,789

Genre: Fluff, slice of life ▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

You put your bag down on the sofa, looking around at the apartment that you haven’t visited in almost half a year. Due to your work schedule, it has been a bit difficult to meet each other. Now that you finally managed to convince your boss to give you a weekend off, you spend the day at his apartment.

You lay on the sofa and stare at him.

"Just as soft as when you last visited, right?" he says cheerfully. "Did you miss me?"

"Of course, I couldn't have survived without you," you smile. "Can I get a hug?"

He laughs and hugs you. "It's been too long," he says.

You sigh. "Too long is an understatement, it's been months. I really, really miss spending time with you."

He frowns and hugs you tightly. "I'm sorry, I should've visited you sooner."

You sigh again. "And get in trouble for sneaking out again? The last time you did that, your manager almost went crazy.”

He laughs.

You say "Let's go and make lunch. I heard you've been learning how to cook pasta recently. "

"Yeah, I learned how to make pasta from Joshua.” He smiles. “I’m still learning, don’t get your hopes up. I think I still have some ingredients left from the last time Joshua and Jeonghan came over.”

"How about we head to the supermarket nearby? Let’s get snacks for later.”

He lets out a small groan. “But we just got here…”

You hold his hand and look up at him. “Cookies and cream ice cream? Please?”

After a big sigh, he grabs his bag and hurries over to the front door.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” You say with a wide smile.

You quickly get up from the sofa and the both of you walk out to the grocery store nearby. You hold on to his elbow as you walk, looking around at the bustling city. On your way to the store, you start to reflect on your relationship.

You never thought that you and Cheol would end up together when you first met. To be honest, you hated each other's guts because neither of you wanted to back down. It wasn't until later on that you realized that he had a great sense of love and protection for his friends. As the leader, he had to make sure that he stood his ground, but only because he had to do what was best for the team.

Later on, you figured out he was a kind person who just likes to have fun. You knew he would be the first one to help you out if you were in trouble because that's just the kind of person he is. When you messed up a job a few years back, it was Cheol that came running in the middle of the night to help out. You would've never thought he would've done that and that's why you realized just how much you actually liked him.

The both of you arrive at the grocery store. You look around and see that there's hardly anyone else around.

"Let's go into the bakery section," you say. You browse through the pastries while Cheol grabs a few. "Let's get some garlic bread. It'll taste great with the pasta. "

"Yeah, and it'll help me survive the garlic breath I'll have for a week," he laughs.

You and Cheol look at each other and laugh as you both find the garlic bread aisle.

"Oh come on, you're not going to have garlic breath for that long."

"I sure will!" he laughs again, "You’ll be tasting garlic bread for the entire week too.”

He winks at you.

"What?" You say, slightly flustered.

"Let's get some ice cream.” He grins as he heads to the ice cream aisle, satisfied at his attempt to rile you up.

"What are you talking about?"

He leans in and whispers into your ear. "We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

You can't help but blush at the thought. It doesn't help that you always seem to wear your heart on your sleeve. The thought of this makes you feel embarrassed and vulnerable. But with him being the way he is, you always expect him to do something weird like this so you don't really know how to react.

You try to not smile or make eye contact and look down as you grab the pint of mint chip. "Let's get out of here."

"I got you a bit excited, didn't I?" He said teasingly. "You're so shy. I'll have to work on that."

"Shut up," you say, not wanting to have this conversation for multiple reasons.

The both of you make your way to get the snack aisle. However, Cheol's hands never seem to leave your waist, making you even more flustered. You want to pull away, but you also don't. He's being especially close, even more than how he was this morning. You got shy whenever he did this in public, but he seems to enjoy getting a rise out of you. He gives you a small smirk when he sees how red your face has become. Although you missed him so much, you never seem to get used to public acts of affection.

“You’re going to be mine for the rest of the weekend.” He says

"Don't say that in public, what if someone heard you?!" You try to hush him.

"What's wrong, are you ashamed of how much you miss me?"

"No! I just... don't say things like that out loud!"

You two eventually get to the counter and Cheol takes out his wallet to pay. He takes out enough money to pay for everything.

“You’re paying for all of it?” You ask.

“Why not? I’ve got money to spend.” He looks over at you and nods. “If you want to pay for anything, you can do it later at the apart—”

You pinch his side and give the cashier an awkward smile. The cashier puts the food into two bags and gives them to you.

"Thank you."

The both of you make your way back to the apartment. "You're welcome," he says with a wink as you both walk out of the store.

When you arrive back at the apartment, you put the ice cream in the fridge as Cheol prepares the ingredients for your lunch. The scent of garlic and onions fill the apartment, making your stomach grumble. You walk into the kitchen, seeing Cheol chopping up the garlic and onions. You roll up your sleeves and help him with boiling the pasta.

The whole time he's flirting with you, he begins to move closer to you.

"Why are you acting like this?" You ask him.

He takes a deep breath and speaks, "Why not? Don't you like it?"

You stop what you're doing and stare at him.

He continues, "I thought you said you wanted to spend the weekend with me. If that’s the case, let’s spend it like we’re spending two months together.”

"No... It's not that I don't like it. I love you, I really do.” You couldn’t help the thought that’s been disturbing you for the past few months. You didn’t want to bring it up because you knew that it would just make everything awkward.

Still, you take the shot. You love him too much to hide what you really feel from him. “Don’t you ever get tired of me?”

"What do you mean?" He says while stirring the pasta slowly.

"It's because of me that we haven't met in months. I was the one who decided on my work schedule, and even when I didn't have work, I stayed at home all day to sleep. "

He stops stirring the pot and looks at you. He then goes back to stirring.

"If I wasn't ready to deal with all that, I would have broken up with you a few months ago when you first told me about your new schedule," he says. "But I didn't."

You say nothing to this, it's obvious he's willing to put up with a lot because of how much he loves you.

"I love you," he says as he gets closer to hug you.

"I love you too."

He puts his arms around you and lays his head on your shoulder. Over the next few hours, you and Cheol enjoy your time together. What was meant to be a peaceful lunch turned out into a rollercoaster of topics. You talked about everything that you couldn’t over the phone. At some point, you shared about this coworker that’s been getting on your nerves, almost riling Cheol for a fight. There was so much to talk about, and yet so little time.

Eventually, the both of you had to clean up after three hours of talking. After cleaning up, both of you snuggle over at the sofa as you watched a movie. The two of you laugh when certain scenes came up and you hit him when certain ones came up. You didn't really realize movies could make you laugh so hard, but you enjoyed it. But to be honest, you only enjoyed it so much because it was with Cheol. Without him, you wouldn't really find anything about this movie all that funny.

After the movie, you and Cheol head over to his room to sleep. You drift off to sleep with a smile on your face. After a few hours, you wake up. You look at your alarm clock. It's 8 AM.

You look over to your right and find Cheol soundly sleeping. You hesitate to wake him up, happy to see him sleeping like a log. A loud buzzing noise makes you jump up. You look around and find it to be your alarm clock.

You quickly turn it off, but Cheol ends up awake. He looks at you with a smile.

"Good morning, sleepyhead." He says, half-awake.

"I should be saying the same to you," you respond, sitting up. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Mmmm." He replies, pulling you back down to the bed for more snuggles. “Five more minutes.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. For such a tall man, he was always like a child when he just got up from bed. You decide to spend the rest of the morning with him in bed.

“What am I going to do with you, Choi Seungcheol?” You say as you stroke his hair.

He snuggles more into you at the sound of his name from your lips. In moments like this, it made you remember why you fought to keep this relationship in the first place. You wouldn’t trade him for anything else in the world. - END -

#S.coups #Scoups #SVT #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #SVT fic #seventeen fic #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #seventeen fanfic #choi seungcheol #seventeen

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jimlingss · 4 years

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Sugar and Coffee [22.5]

Back to Chapter 22

Words: 2729 || The Ultimate Mini-Chapter of the series

“You’re working in a grocery store now?” Taehyung asks with raised brows, surprise taking hold. He never imagined his friend being a produce boy, yet it seems fitting somehow. “Isn’t working in the bakery section more suitable?” Jimin shrugs. “I didn’t get to pick, but the job is pretty relaxed, so I’m not that worried. My manager is really nice and I’ll probably quit when I find a real position after graduating.” “Nice, dude.” They fist pump. “Now you can buy me my deli meats all the time.” “You’ll have to reimburse me, Tae.” The boy with his full cheeks has his eyes crinkled. The two boys have known each other since their elementary days — where Taehyung kept stealing Jimin’s books and pencils until one day the timid latter had enough and tackled the former on the playground. They stuck together after that, finding that their personalities balanced. It would only be later until they met Yoongi in math class, Hoseok in Jimin’s extracurricular, and Jungkook during an outside volunteering event in High School. It was how the four of them came to be, how they naturally formed a friendship over the course of time and still remain close after so many years. So Taehyung has no hesitation when his phone starts blowing up with notifications and immediately verbalizes his woes— “Oh shit.” “What?” Jimin abandons the game he’s playing. He’s never been good at them like the rest were. “Yuna found me on instagram,” Taehyung grimaces. “She just added me and liked all my pics since three years ago.” Jimin bursts out laughing much to his best friend’s dismay. “She’s the girl Y/N and Jungkook was showing around, right?” “Yeah, that sixteen year old.” The shorter man’s brows furrow. “Isn’t she eighteen?” “Same thing.” Taehyung sighs despite the fact that he’s only twenty himself and Jimin muses that he often acts twelve. But he doesn’t utter his thoughts and Taehyung tosses his device onto the couch. “She kind of scares me.” “Why?” Jimin gives a toothy grin. “She’s tiny.” “Haven’t you heard what Yoongi said? The shorter ones are always the ones closer to hell.” It’s a fair point. “The smallest peppers are always the spiciest, am I right?” “Fuck off, it’s about girth not length.” He ignores how Taehyung’s brows wiggle. “Didn’t she ask you out before she left?” “Yep.” “What did you even do? She wasn’t like that to me or Hoseok.” “Exactly. I have no clue.” Taehyung would make a joke about he’s just naturally irresistible but this is no time to joke around. Yuna is undeniably intimidating and a serious threat to his existence. “I heard from Y/N that she’s thinking of coming here, so thank god we’re all graduating in a few months.” “Yeah, well you might need another semester with the grades you have.” “Bro.” Taehyung sits up straight. “You want to fight?” He shrugs. “I’m just saying you can’t get away with a thirty percent in nutrition.” “Fuck. Don’t remind me. I need to catch up on my readings.” “Same here.” Yet no one moves. They don’t even flinch. The two should crack open their textbooks and start reading — but Taehyung’s arm only stretches to grab a controller and join the game Jimin’s in. The night continues on as the two relish in their youth and ability to be irresponsible without repercussions. Or at least too many repercussions.

The air of the small coffee shop is tense. It is as if the four walls are closing in, but still, she’s glad that it’s a public setting. She can’t bear if it was just her and him. At least in public, there are voices to fill in the background silence and the threat of public embarrassment keeps her from crying, from having an outburst. It’s difficult to face someone she used to care so much about. To this day, she still doesn’t know what she felt can be called love. But the fact that she has to contemplate it, she’s inclined to think that it’s not. But that doesn’t mean their short and sweet relationship was any less meaningful. He was her best friend for so long after all. Aeri swallows hard, sipping her drink. She tries not to get the paper cup to shake so much in her clammy hands and ends up putting it back on the table when she realizes she can’t taste it well. After another beat, she lifts her eyes to look at his and realizes that he’s been staring at her. Aeri breaks the silence. “Why’d you call me here, Hoseok?” “I thought it would be nice to talk.” “About what?” “Us.” Closure. He came here for closure, but she’s not sure what kind of closure he wants or how he wants to shut this bittersweet chapter of their lives. “What about u-us?” She hates that her voice breaks, but oddly enough, it isn’t as painful as it was a few weeks ago. A few weeks ago, she would’ve never been able to face him like this, wouldn’t be able to even look at him without crying. It seems like as time goes by, it becomes easier. “I’m sorry.” He says in a weakened tone that hurts her as well. “Don’t apologize, Hoseok.” “No, but I want to. I’ve been thinking about it a lot — and what we had….it was good.” “It was.” Aeri smiles. “Wasn’t it?” He nods, eased at her openness, that she’s not defensive or angry like he thought she would be. Like she has the right to be. “I don’t think I tried hard enough to make it work.” “I didn’t either, so don’t blame yourself alone,” Aeri says, a tiny smile tugs on her lips. She accepts his apology. “I had my part to play in it too.” “I didn’t want to hurt you.” “I didn’t either. But it’s okay, Hoseok. We just weren’t right for each other.” He nods. It goes silent. He musters a tender smile. “Truce?” “Truce.” The girl giggles when they shake hands across the small table. “You still owe me ten dollars when I lent you gas money.” “Oh, you’re really going to bring that up now?” “Of course,” Aeri laughs. “Fair is fair.” It’s hard to be acquainted with someone who used to be so much closer. Someone who has so many memories — good ones and hurtful ones. And often times the end can never be the same as the beginning. For the rest of their lives, Aeri knows that she’ll always keep Hoseok at a distance, at an arm’s reach, for the sake of her own heart and self-preservation. But she considered herself one of the lucky ones — that they have a mutual understanding, that they can still see each other, and can still have some semblance of a platonic friendship. She’s lucky when she knows that the two of them will never revert to being complete strangers.

Min Yoongi is a man of many things. He is quiet, but deadly. He is grumpy and lethargic, but will go out of his way to make someone’s life miserable and has the biggest smile when he sees suffering. He had the most joy when Taehyung stubbed his toe against the doorframe, when Jimin was last place during Smash. Most of all, he’s an enigma. Lazy, yet the hardest working. Mean and snarky, yet always willing to lend an ear and shoulder. Indifferent and aloof, yet the one who never fails to react first in a crisis. But of all things...you never expected him to be clingy. “So this is what you do all day?” Yoongi gestures to the clutter on the kitchen counter, the wires and gum paste rolled out, styrofoam and toothpicks, small brushes and petal dust shades. “You practice making flowers and then go home to suck Jungkook’s dick?” “Excuse me.” You scoff. “I practice making cakes too.” “You’re fun.” “If you don’t like it, then leave me alone,” you mutter out of the corner of your mouth, concentrating back on the rose you’re working on. “Why are you hanging out with me anyway?” “Because it’s you or Taehyung right now and I’d rather spend time with you than Taehyung.” “What’s wrong with Taehyung?” “He’s Taehyung.” A light scoff falls out of your mouth. You know the motherfucker has a soft spot for him, but he can say whatever he wants. He’ll deny it even if you confronted him. “Want to make flowers?” you offer. “Nope.” Min Yoongi would rather fiddle with kitchen materials and spin around on the stool than brush up on sugar flowers, piping flowers or fondant flowers. But you don’t have the time or energy to argue. You do, however, show off once you’re finished. “What do you think?” He hums as he looks at your finished product. “Not half bad, I guess. I’ve seen worse.” It’s not the greatest compliment in the world but you’ll take it especially since it’s coming from him. You’ve noticed in the time you’ve known Yoongi that he has a difficult time praising others. He always tries to work around it, skirting through the subject, never verbalizing his feelings despite being such a straightforward person. It never fails to be entertaining to watch. You grin. “If my relationship with Jungkook ever goes to shit, we’d still be friends, wouldn’t we, Yoongi?” “Sure,” he mumbles while resting his elbow on the counter, cheek in his palm lazily. “But your relationship with Kook won’t ever go to shit. Kid’s too whipped for you.” Your smile only widens. “He is, isn’t he?” “You are too,” he says when you attempt to exclude yourself. “It’s gross to watch, but whatever.” “You need someone in your life too, Min. Maybe you’d be less bitter all the time.” It’s not that he’s bitter, but you like to tease that he is since you know it grinds his gears. “I have a cousin of a cousin who’s around our age. Want to meet her?” His expression wrinkles like he just bit into a lemon. Yoongi sits upright. “First of all, fuck you. I’m not bitter — I’m just me, bitch. Secondly, I don’t want to meet anyone, much less your cousin. And last of all, you’re becoming worse than Taehyung.” “Maybe this is an invitation for you to leave then.” You grin cheekily at Yoongi and it doesn’t amuse him. It’s unfortunate he doesn’t have a soft spot for you like Jungkook does. “And don’t call me a bitch. Only Jungkook’s allowed to do that in bed.” “I didn’t need to know that.” Yoongi’s face crumples more and he waves at you. “Just stop talking and continue what you’re doing.” Min Yoongi is an enigma and someone you relate to the most. Often times you feel him on a spiritual level. And in spite of what he might think internally, he’s a great friend. He’s logical, reasonable, the clarity that the whole group usually needs before they think doing dumb shit, like jumping off the roof of the dining center into a pile of snow beneath, is a good idea. He’s hilarious in a sarcastic, snarky way and cares the most when no one’s looking. He reminds you of an older brother who will always watch your back — and he makes you glad that both you and Jungkook have him in your life.

Jungkook had a dream. It was odd — only because it felt so real and how it still sticks into his mind hours later. Usually dreams fade away like memories of childhoods where he can’t distinguish people, actions, his own thoughts but generally what had occurred and the feeling he had obtained. But Jungkook remembers this dream well. It was a dream where he wobbled to the kitchen in this small house with wooden floorboards and hideous wallpaper, his home, and found you by the window above the sink. Only, you were old with gray hair and wrinkles around your face, an apron tied around your body that was shorter and more sluggish. And his own hands were wrinkled like crumpled paper, round glasses perched on his nose, his movements slowed down as he staggered. You had turned around and complained about the damn neighbour kids ruining your garden with their littering and he had to calm you down for fear of you getting a heart attack. It was so entirely mundane, and he had never been more confused when he awoke. “Jungkook!” His mother shouts over the phone. “Are you still here?” Her voice sounds farther away. “Honey, the phone’s broken again! I can’t hear him!” The boy snaps back to attention. “No, I’m here! Mom? Hello?” But neither of his parents hear him. Instead, there’s rustling and the sound of his father’s voice. “Give me that. Hello?” “Hello?” Jungkook sighs. “Hello?! Goddammit, I just fixed this old thing yesterday!” “No, I’m right here!” He has to strain his voice, shouting loud enough that could warrant complaints from the people next door. “I can hear you!” “Honey, is that you?” His mom calls out again and there’s more rustling. “Where’s the speakerphone? Oh, here. Hello?” For the tenth time, Jungkook exclaims— “Hello!” “Finally. I thought the phone was broken again.” Both his parents start discussing the phone issues and Jungkook nurses his headache before the conversation gets back on track again. “Have you been eating well?” “I’ve been fine, mom.” “Good! Your grandma’s visiting and she’s been so worried about you. It’s not good to do all that exercise and not eat well! You’ll burn all your fat and just be skin and bones!” There’s the sound of his grandma’s voice at the back that he can’t distinguish well enough to make out what she’s saying. “Anyhow, your aunt and uncle send their regards. We’ll be visiting their home this time for the Holiday season come December. Also Lia and Eunbi wanted to ask if Y/N will be coming home with you.” “Uh.” Jungkook scratches the back of his neck. “I’m not sure yet.” “Oh, well, do bring her, dear.” His dad suddenly says, “Heaven knows, your mom and grandma can’t stop talking about how great she is. If she comes by, I’ll fire up the grill and we can have a barbecue too!” “Yeah, we’ll see,” he exhales sharply. Jungkook still hasn’t announced to his family that he’s dating you yet. If you agree to come back with him for Christmas, he’ll probably make it known to them but he can’t even fathom the many more times they’ll call if they knew. God, they would probably call you directly and he would rather spare you from their smothering love. Suddenly a thought creeps into Jungkook’s mind. “Hey, mom. Can I talk to grandma for a second?” “Sure! Mom! He’s here.” He can hear the phone getting passed, more buttons accidentally being pressed, and his grandma’s voice sounds closer as if she accidentally turned off the speakerphone. “Hello? Kookie, is that you?” They exchange the usual back and forth, asking about each other’s well-being and wishing one another good health. His grandma also tells him to bring you around some time when he comes home and how lovely you are — but he doesn’t need to hear it. Jungkook’s already long learnt that. “Hey, grandma.” He finally approaches the question he’s been meaning to ask. Slow and hesitant, but he manages. “What was it like to grow old with grandpa?” He can practically hear the soft smile on her face. “Oh, it was wonderful.” There’s a pause as if the aged woman is looking for a word to exactly describe her experience. Though she finally seems to be able to find it. “It was a privilege.” A privilege. That’s the perfect word. It encapsulates his dream entirely. It was sad to be aged, to see you tired, to feel weighed down himself and slower than what he’s used to. But when he looked at you, he didn’t just see an old woman — he saw the snarky girl he knew of in high school, the attractive girl he daydreamed about for so long, the one he’s with now. And the one who will join him for so many more memories. Even if it was just a dream, Jungkook’s excited to make it a reality.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario

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snarkymonkeyprime · 3 years

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Since I’m firmly entrench in destiel once again, I’ll be brining this fic back as well. I never did settle on a title for it. *ponders*

Anyway, Dean and Cas are rival bakers in the same town and secretly pining. Gabe and Sam hatch SHENANIGANS.

“Hey, Sam! You delivering yet or can I start using you as a coat rack?”

Sam stacked the boxes of pies in the back of the van, securing them as best as he could. He glared around the side of the door. "I’m five feet from you, asshole. Stop shouting.“

Dean grinned. "Oh, good. You can hear.” He trotted out the side door of the bakery, carrying a large cake box. "Last one. Any get messed up, I’m kicking your ass from here to India.“

Bastard, Sam though. He smiled bitterly. "You do this every time, Dean. I’ve delivered for you for what? Five years? Have a messed up one yet?”

Dean scruffed Sam’s hair, cackling when he swatted his older brother away. "And don’t eat the product, Gargantua.“

Scowling, Sam straightened his shirt. "I hate you and everything you stand for,” he said quietly.

Still grinning, Dean ran a hand through his hair, leaving streaks of flour and frosting along his forehead. "This one’s important. It’s the first time a chain store’s picked up my stuff.“

"Puts you right alongside Castiel now, doesn’t it?” Sam prodded with a smirk.

At the name of the cross-town baker, Dean first paled and then blushed. "Like I give a shit what the guy sells. Or where he sells it.“ His jaw tightened. "Whatever. Just…shut up.”

Sam grinned, shutting the van doors and moving to the driver’s side. "You want me to pick up more eclairs while I’m there?“

Shifting like a guilty toddler, Dean muttered, "Five this time,” before darting back into the bakery.

Sam snickered, pulling himself into the driver’s seat. He sighed, dropping the visor to find an old picture of he and Jo and Dean, with Dean doing his usual mugging in the background. "One of these days, Dean,“ he muttered, starting the van, "you need to quit hiding.” He snorted, pulling out onto the street. "Like you’re really hiding anything, you idiot.“ He whistled to himself as he drove off, affectionate amusement keeping him company on the drive to the grocery store.

Sam parked the van in one of the few open street spots and got out, still whistling. He waved to Gabriel where he sat on a nearby bench, a familiar pink box at his hip.

He unlocked the back door and pulled out two pies: one apple and the other marionberry. Without a word, Gabriel held out a fistful of dollars.

“Do you think they’ll ever figure it out?” Sam asked, setting the pies down before fishing out a few bills from his own pocket. He made the exchange and picked up the box of eclairs.

Gabriel snorted. "Seriously? You think my cousin even understands what attraction means?“ He snickered. "The idiot. He moons over these damn pies when he thinks no one’s looking. I mean, yesterday, he finished off that peach pie your brother tried out? I thought the poor idiot would burst into tears.”

Glancing at his watch, Sam realized he still had some time before he had to make his delivery to the market. He sat down beside Gabriel, setting the eclair box across his legs. "Same. Dean acts like Castiel’s nothing to him but I swear he can’t go a day without these.“ He drummed his fingers on the box, pursing his lips. "I say we lock them in a closet until they figure it out.”

Chuckling, Gabriel shook his head. "Good God; I’ve never met a more blind pair.“ He ran a hand through his shaggy hair and commented, "Think we should step in finally? Show them the error of their ways?”

“Jo thinks so.”

Gabriel grinned, making Sam’s heart stutter. "I like Jo. I've always liked that little minx.“

Sam smiled and looked toward the van. “But I hate meddling with Dean’s life. He gets really … pissy.”

“Look up that word in the dictionary you’ll find his picture,” Gabriel muttered. He patted Sam on the shoulder. “Look at it this way; if we don’t do something soon, these two idiots are going to pine over each other through baked goods until they’re both diabetic.” Gabriel wagged a finger. "We’re doing them a favor by pushing the issue. You’ll see.“

It would be nice, actually. Dean had been running at full bore since he was about sixteen. Working as many jobs as he could manage while watching the house and Sam and John. Putting himself through culinary school. Opening the bakery. Handling the marketing. Hell, he doubted his brother even slept at this point. Was it so wrong to try and get him to see a good thing when he barely had a moment to breathe?

It wasn’t like Dean hated Castiel. Whenever they did interact, he was as friendly as anyone. Castiel’s specialty was usually with pastries and foreign desserts. Best baklava Sam had ever had. And Dean had stuck to more traditional fare like cakes and pies. Both did very well in their small town. Rarely competed except at the county fair. But lately, Sam had noticed the lingering gazes Dean sent Castiel’s way whenever possible. And he hadn’t been blind to the shy looks Castiel gave his brother when Dean wasn’t looking.

Sam sighed and nodded. "All right. If you promise Dean won’t try to neuter me, I say we do it.”

“Thank God.” Gabriel stood up, hefting the pies. "If I have to see him moon over one more pie, I will strip him naked and ship him to Dean.“ With a wink, Gabriel saluted Sam and sauntered off.

Shaking his head, Sam rose and returned to his van, setting the eclairs down gently on the seat beside him. He waved again at Gabriel as he slipped into his car. That was the other thing. If he got Castiel and Dean to admit their own attraction, it meant that Sam might be able to do the same with regards to Gabriel. Maybe. Jo had been pushing him to admit his crush for the past few months, careful not to mention it around Dean since Dean and Gabriel – friends or not – tended to snipe at each other seconds after exchanging hellos.

Kind of hypocritical that he was goading Dean and he couldn’t do it either. He pulled a face as he started the van. To be fair, he wanted Dean and Castiel together in order to soften the blow of his own attempts.

Still, he had to wonder if this was the best course of action. Dean never did like it when Sam tried to help him; even if it was just getting him to ask a guy out. So, this was either the best idea he’d had or the worst. “Probably the worst,” he muttered as he started the van. "But I can’t have a geriatric sibling stuffing himself with eclairs until he dies.“

#destiel #sabriel #rival bakers!au #destiel!au #spn fic #deancas #samgabe

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codevassie · 3 years

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Superpower TS Fic Recs

[***Let me know if I’ve missed anything on the Content Warnings!]

[**Do Not Ask Authors for Updates!]

[*Leave these authors Comments, please and thank you!]

What You Can Stand by manyfandomsonelog

Status: Incomplete, Work In Progress

Summary: Virgil tried so, so hard to avoid becoming a supervillain. He really did. But when your superpower is literally manifesting a person's worst fears, it's a hard thing to avoid. Still, he really, really tried. Even when his own parents feared him. Even when the whole school feared him. Even when he hated himself and his Propensity so much that he wanted to give in. He might've succeeded, if he hadn't met him- Roman Reyes, AKA Roman Spectacular, AKA The Prince, AKA the worst thing that has ever happened to him (which is saying something).

Relationships: Prinxiety, Logicality

CW: Psychological stuff, nightmares, bullying, physical harm, spiders, panic attacks, suicidal thoughts, brief discussion of racism, self-hatred, bomb, explosion, blood, injury, bad/abusive parenting, imprisonment, fire, homophobia, pedophilia mention, discussion of child abuse, evidence of physical abuse, sexual innuendo, anxious thoughts, death, funeral, flashback, reference to sex, fairly aggressive arguing and yelling, public speaking, secondhand embarrassment

My thoughts: My quarantine savior!!! I started the fic like a week into quarantine, so I really mean that literally. The characterization is absolutely fantastic--I love seeing all of them interact. It’s so natural and fun and interesting. The plot is also just wonderful--one thing keeps happening after another and these guys just cannot seem to get a break. The pacing is awesome, and whether it’s a character or plot chapter, you just can’t look away. Log is such a fantastic writer and a wonderful person, so if you like awesome prinxiety, superpowers and secret identities, trust and betrayal, humor and angst, you really need to read this one!

Rewind by ravenclawicecream

Status: Incomplete, Work In Progress

Summary: When a group of superheroes show up to kill him, it's just another Wednesday for Virgil Messana. After five years of being on the run, he's used to the idea people want him dead. That fact is just an unfortunate side effect of having the power to destroy everything you touch. What does surprise him, however, is when he finds himself agreeing to join those superheros and become part of the team. It's not long until Virgil learns that all the heroes have chapters of their lives they'd rather keep unpublished, along with events they'd rather not relive. And, as he spends more time with the team, he realizes that he may know certain members much better than he'd originally thought. Virgil longs for a moment to figure everything out but by then it's too late. He's already caught up in a bigger scheme; one where they no longer have the power to control their own destinies. With every movement monitored and every action proven to be calculated, the lines between allies and enemies blur, leaving Virgil caught in between. When the stakes are inevitably raised, the remaining heroes must do all they can to change the future of the world. But time has always been a cruel master, and sometimes the only answer is to rewind.

Relationships: Loceit, Logicality, Prinxiety, Remile

CW: Major Character Death, Murder

My thoughts: Gosh, I wish this one got more love. It’s probably the MCD tag, so understandable, but also take into consideration the time travel tag and perhaps give it a chance? I feel like this fic is setting up for so much, and I cannot wait to see how it all goes down. I have so many questions for this fic which is always a good sign (so many that I may have freaked the author out with my WALL of questions on chapter three don’t worry about it /j). Please. Read. This.

Powerless by patentpending

Status: Complete

Summary: “People like us,” Logan had once remarked to Virgil. “Are statistical anomalies.”(Almost) Everyone in the world has powers. As for those who don’t, well, they’re such a small part of the population - only 0.04% - why would anyone care about them?Ever since he realized what people mean when they call him Powerless, Virgil Sanders has tried to fight back against the system that oppresses people like him, Patton, and Logan. When Patton’s bakery is targeted in a hate crime, he finally snaps. With the help of a mysterious sponsor, Virgil becomes a villain, ready to remake a broken society. The only thing standing in his way is the world’s most Powerful (and infuriatingly charming) superhero: The Prince, who is hiding the fact that his gilded life isn’t as perfect as it may seem.

Relationships: Prinxiety, Logicality, Roman/Female Fanon Character

CW: Classism, Unreliable Narrator, Thinly Veiled Criticism of Society, emetophobia, violence, gun mention, implied suicide attempt, dub-con, mentions of blood, graphic depictions of a riot, non-graphic description of a wound, possessive and abusive behavior, kid being kicked out of the house by parent, kidnapping, kinda torture (?), body horror, gore, graphic descriptions of injuries, emotional abuse, police brutality, pain and injury, burning building, swearing, vomiting, murder, panic attack, dysphoria, misgendering, minor character death, major character death, self deprecating talk, mentions of suicide

My thoughts: Well, doing a TS superhero rec without Powerless is just treason. I don’t know--I’m trying to figure out a way to describe it and instead launching up to pace around the room with an instant replay of different scenes in my head. I mean, the grocery store chapter?!?! This stuff lives in my head rent free. The characterization, the banter, the tension, the motives--I can’t describe it y’all. Just, if you love yourselves (love yourselves, please <3) then just go read it. Or reread it. Do that for yourselves.

Waterspout by Greenninjagal

Status: Complete

Summary: "Hail!” The boy says all smug smiles that Virgil immediately hates. “You’re Recluse aren’t you?”As if there was some other spider themed weirdo who clung to buildings in their free time.“No,” Virgil says, because he can. *** Virgil finds himself stuck on the side of a building in a rainstorm and is helped by an annoying-admittedly attractive-guy.

Relationships: Prinxiety

CW: Mild cursing, storms

My thoughts: This one is very cute. Virgil is a spiderman-like hero who went up a waterspout, and down comes some rain trying to wash him out. Roman comes to help, they banter a bit, and, maybe, there’s a little surprise at the end. I would not mind more of this AU. In fact, I would love it. But that should not discount how wonderfully made a oneshot it is either. The author wrote it perfectly for the length it is, presenting the charm of the characters, great plot and symbolism, and left me wanting more at the same time. Definitely go check this one out.

Technically. It’s A Secret by supervillain

Status: Incomplete, Work In Progress

Summary: Virgil Storm, the adopted son of a reality TV star with telekinesis was born without a power. That's been a problem for him all his life. His only friend is Patton Vega, his only chance at romance the irritating Cros Corson--until he gets a job at a top-secret facility, playing babysitter to a bunch of kids with dangerous powers and even more dangerous minds. Kids who happen to be exactly his age.Yeah, this is going to be a piece of cake, especially when the enigmatic villain Believe (aka Roman Torres) takes a liking to Virgil. And even worse, when Virgil starts to more than like him back. Pull in some evil mad scientists, a plague created to decimate the world, a murderous villain, an obnoxious stalker, and the greatest Kinetic the world has ever known, and you're in for a hell of a ride.

Relationships: Prinxiety, Logicality

CW: Anxiety attacks, arson, murder, minor character death, blood, spiders, being eaten alive, falling, death, sleeping, fighting, cop mention

My thoughts: I’m behind on this one, and I wanted to catch up on it before I posted this rec list. Today is the last Friday of the year though, so I decided to just go ahead and do it. I love this fic a ton so far, and I can’t wait to read more. I can tell the author put a lot of thought into writing the world and characters, and that the plot is interesting and deliberate. There’s mysteries unfolding which intrigues me So Bad. It’s a super interesting one, so I’d say go read it!

#fic recs #sanders sides #ts #friday fic recs #prinxiety #NOTE: the two that have a wall of CWs are mostly just warnings from the beginnings of chapters #which means they can be skipped over fairly easily #so today is the last friday of the year (holy snit) so i wanted to get this out #i've been trying to make this list since like may but i don't read a whole lot of superpower aus #hope everyone is having a great one!

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takemeawaytocamelot · 4 years

Text

Voices Matter

Okay. This will be a pretty personal post, and maybe a bit long. Feel free to skip along.

You may or may not be aware that until June of 2019, I had been a delivery driver for a national auto parts chain. Being a young woman in her mid to late 20′s, it was a good job that worked around my school schedule. The downside was working with mechanics. As a whole, they’re an odd bunch. The vast majority of them haven’t matured past 13 or 14 year old boys, so they make a lot of dick jokes. I got a lot of ‘nice rack’ or ‘sorry about my dirty shaft’ jokes too. For the most part, they rolled off my back because after a while, you learn to ignore it.

One particular shop, however, couldn’t be ignored. It was a small shop owned and run by one guy. Creepy Dave. Now, one thing you should know about me, I’m not a touchy feely person. I don’t typically enjoy physical touch, but with the right people I can do what they need me to do. That being said, I obviously don’t like people invading my personal bubble either.

This is where Creepy Dave comes in. Everyone at the store, both drivers and the guys at the counter, called him Creepy Dave. He’s that creepy. He would regularly do the ‘accidental boob graze’, or some how find a way to touch your hand when taking his invoice from you. He also did the ‘you should smile more’ on a regular basis. This man made every single woman (except for the lady who was in her 60′s) uncomfortable. When I trained new drivers, I had to teach them how to deal with Creepy Dave. Why you ask? Let me tell you.

His behavior was not good, it made everyone uncomfortable and we hated delivering to him. So we’d go to our bosses, who were the store owners, and their response was this: we’ll talk to him.

Talk. To. Him.

That’s it. Because Creepy Dave spent a lot of money at the store, and always paid his bill on time, he was allowed to harass the female employees. Whenever he got a “talking to”, he’d behave for about a week, but then go right back to it. Eventually, we stopped complaining because it didn’t do any good.

Fast forward to about 4 weeks ago. In the years between Creepy Dave and starting my new job at a grocery store, I’ve been in counseling for suffering a sexual trauma when I was very young. I’ve done a lot of healing and a lot of growth since then.

Now, Creepy Dave figured out where I worked. I’ve seen him in my store a few times, always a little... uncomfortable. One evening, I was in the front lobby disinfecting carts and baskets when he walked in. I’m holding a spray bottle and rag with nowhere to run and no counter between me and Creepy Dave. He walks in, stops, looks at me and smiles. That creepy smarmy smile. You know the one. And he says to me, “you gonna spray me down?” or something to that effect. I straight up said No. Because ew. To which his response is “You sure you don't wanna spray me off?”

In what universe is it okay to say that!? I MEAN REALLY??!

So, given my history with Creepy Dave, I don’t really tell anyone about it. He’s just creepy and there’s never consequences. Except... I don’t work at the auto parts store anymore.

Creepy Dave comes into the store again a few days later and I see him. He doesn’t see me. This time, I’m behind the counter in the bakery area and my manager is there. So I pull her aside quickly and ask if she’d be willing to deal with him because he makes me uncomfortable. (Side note about my manager. She’s amazing and I love her. She’s incredibly protective over her staff and she doesn’t take crap from anyone. She’s what I call a safe person that you just feel comfortable with.) She says of course she’ll deal with the creepy old man.

Once he leaves, she asks for an explanation. I give her the whole story, including what he’d said to me in the store lobby. She’s appalled. She asks me to write down, in as much detail as I remember, what happened and we’ll take it upstairs to our store manager so there can be documentation about the incident. I do and she runs the note upstairs. A few minutes later, she comes back and says Chris would like to see me. I felt like I was going to get in trouble, though I’d done nothing wrong.

I go upstairs and talk to Chris, explaining my history with Creepy Dave and everything. The response I got nearly had me in tears. “When you see him again, call for a manager and we’ll explain to him that it isn’t ok to talk to my employees like that. And if he does anything like that ever again, I’ll kick him out of my store. Don’t worry, Sam. We’ll pick up where your previous job failed.”

I was so conditioned to accept Creepy Dave’s behavior that it honestly never occurred to me to make a report. Nothing was ever done before and my level of discomfort never mattered. Until it did.

The reason I’m writing all this out is for you. Whoever you are, whatever your situation, you needed to see this. You needed someone to tell you that your voice matters. YOU matter. Inappropriate behavior in the workplace, whether from a coworker or a customer, isn’t okay. Actions have consequences.

Let me say that one more time.

YOUR

VOICE

MATTERS

Don’t let something continue because it’s been allowed to continue before. Speak up and protect yourself. You’re worth protecting and are worthy of protecting. If the people around you don’t support you, find new people.

#personal #takemeawaytocamelot #voices matter #your voice matters #speak up #its not ok

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kareofbears · 4 years

Text

blinding lights, chapter 2/4

Their height gap is a wide one, but in no way is Sumire going to let Akechi keep looking down on her. “It became my business the minute we wanted the same thing: to fix this reality.“

—

Akechi and Sumire have to traverse through the events of the third semester without Akira (or rather, against him).

Read on AO3 or you can read below! whatever works for you :-)

They both agreed to meet at noon at an address of Sumire’s choosing. Considering that Tokyo is still in a post New Year’s mindset, the streets and the stores that reside there are fairly sluggish; only a few elderly couples and a handful of families with toddlers tugging them along are mindlessly walking through the streets of Shibuya.

Akechi takes one look at the restaurant. “No.”

“Huh?”

“No,” he repeats, glaring at the adorable restaurant with no small amount of disdain. “Why here?”

“I thought that a small, public setting like this would be smart,” she scratches her cheek. Maybe she’d misheard when—”Kurusu-senpai mentioned that you liked this type of food, back before school went on break.”

“Did he now?” His tone is light, but his jaw looks worryingly locked in place. “How kind of him.”

“We can go somewhere else—”

“No need,” Akechi narrows his eyes at the bright neon signs once more before going through the glass double-doors. “I’m not so petty as to refuse a restaurant for no good reason.”

“Okay,” Sumire says for a lack of better response, following him in. Why Akechi has such a fierce vendetta against eating at an IHOP, she’ll probably never know.

They were seated right away by a flustered waitress. Akechi smiles at her, charming and non-threatening. It’s almost kind of jarring seeing it now.

After she shakily hands them the laminated menus, she stumbles away to the kitchen—no doubt to rave about how sweet the detective is in person, how approachable.

“Finally. I was afraid I’d snap at her if she’d stayed a moment longer.” He starts skimming the menu, ignoring her curious stare. “You have a question.”

“I do, but I don’t want to come off as rude.”

“I’ve dealt with people who would dispose of me if I so much breathed the wrong way,” he flips the page. “Give me some credit.”

She thinks of the halls in Shujin, filled to the brim with rumors and hate and animosity towards her. This aspect, at the very least, can act as a middle-ground between Sumire and the boy in front of her.

“You’re not really the Detective Prince, are you?”

“Of course I am.”

“But it’s an act, isn’t it?”

He chuckles mockingly. “Everything is an act, Yoshizawa. There isn’t a single person out there who isn’t pretending in some way or another. But, if you’re referring to how I’m no longer keeling over to lick people’s gum off their shoe, then sure, I’m not really the Detective Prince.” Akechi pauses when her eyes dart toward the kitchen. “Of course, there are exceptions to every rule. If it’ll benefit me, I can be whoever I need to be.”

The door to the kitchen bursts open. Akechi smirks. “Exhibit A.”

The waitress returns, slightly red and clutching the handle of a steaming coffee pot like a lifeline.

“On the house,” she blurts out as she pours the hot liquid into their mugs. “Um, are you ready?”

They give her their order (Sumire gets a breakfast platter with double pancakes while Akechi seems adamant on not ordering anything on the breakfast menu, asking for cream and sugar instead). When they finish, Akechi flashes the waitress a smile, tilting his head so that his brown hair brushes his shoulders, and induces yet another wave of red to flood towards her cheeks.

She scampers away and Sumire gives him a look. “Did you trick her to...get coffee?”

“To prove a point,” he corrects. Lifting his mug, one sniff has him grimacing. “Leblanc has truly spoiled me. This smells rancid.”

She lifts her own mug; it smells delightful. “That sounds exhausting, having to constantly change how you act.”

“Perhaps. But if it gets the job done, then I can’t complain. Survival, after all, must come before anything else, only closely followed by the notion of winning. Many times, those two coincide.”

“And if you get caught in the act? What happens then?”

“That doesn’t happen.”

“Sure it does,” she picks up her teaspoon and absentmindedly stirs the contents of her mug. “Why else would you be interacting with me without your…persona?”

“You think you caught me in the act?” He asks, an eyebrow arched.

“Oh, no, not at all. But someone must’ve figured it out for me.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs. “It’s a bit of a stretch to say ‘figured it out,’ but in a way, yes. It’s more coincidence and luck. Less figuring out and more,” Akechi pauses. “A different perspective.”

Leaning back into the (slightly sticky) faux leather of the booth, he folds his hands together in a polished manner. “Are you sufficed with this interview? Or is this an interrogation?”

“I thought it was more of a nice chat,” she replies.

“Chat?” Sumire freezes. Akechi’s voice had dropped an octave, and her stomach along with it. “Chats are what people have when they’re gossiping about what some boy is doing after school, or when they have the luxury to waste time. Chatting is what friends do, Yoshizawa, and forgive me if I wasn’t clear enough. However,” he leans forward, his red eyes dark and lips pulled back ever so slightly. “Being allies with the same goal does not make us besties.”

He leans back, and Sumire can only stare at him. She tries to push away the intense waves of disappointment, irritation, and embarrassment at tricking herself twice now. A million words are stuck on her tongue like a fly caught on sticky paper—struggling, but an ultimately fruitless endeavor.

“Okay,” is what comes out. Clearing her throat, “Let’s focus back to the matter at hand then, shall we?” Sumire spoke timidly, but not out of fear of the man in front of her, but rather in fear of scaring him away. It’s obvious he has a bus load and a half of issues, but they’re allies and right now, they don’t have anyone but each other. This is one objective she can’t afford to slip up on, and with her knowledge of the Metaverse being shaky at best, she needs all the help she can get.

“Let’s.”

As he’s about to continue, the waitress returns with Sumire’s staggering order, Akechi’s sugar and milk (in tiny, blue capsules) and mysteriously straightened hair. “So sorry for the delay,” she says, most of her attention on a boy who seems infinitely more interested in the creamer than her.

“Thank you,” Sumire blurts out when he doesn’t reply, more to fill the awkward silence than anything. At least it seems to snap the waitress out of whatever disappointed stupor she’s in, after the detective had a full one-eighty on his personality.

The waitress walks back, shoulders drooping, and Sumire points a side eye at Akechi. “That was mean. Kindness has its own benefits too, you know.”

“Alright, Maruki. Can we get a move on?”

“Please.”

Akechi folds his hand over each other. “I mentioned that I’ve worked with the Thieves in the past.” At Sumire’s nod, “I believe that can be used to our advantage.”

She frowns, and picks up her fork. “Our advantage? Did you learn something back then?” She starts cutting into her pancakes, the scent absolutely mouth-watering.

“Not quite. Most of the intel I gathered from them were useless. Never in my life did I need to know about half of the bakeries in Tokyo, or which days of the week were the most plentiful in terms of grocery sales. Really, it’s all garbage. However, three things were clear by the time my truce with them had ended.”

He plucks a single capsule from the table, inspecting it with interest. “One: Kurusu Akira is very good at what he does. It pains me to admit it, but he’s powerful, much more than lets on. His ability to utilize multiple Personas to fill in any holes his team might have, the natural tendency to anticipate his opposer’s attacks. This made me knock out the initial strategy.”

“Which was?”

“Battle him on the spot,” he answers nonchalantly. “Beat some sense into him, in whatever form that may be. However, as history decides it, that plan was doomed to fail before it even began. Maybe as a last resort.” Sumire very nearly asks him what on earth he could be referring to in terms of history, but Akechi continues before she works out how to ask without setting off another aggravated landmine. It’s a lot like her floor exercises; one misstep can be her downfall.

“His power also extends past the Metaverse,” Akechi crosses his legs neatly. “He’s made a plethora of confidants splattered across the city, ranging from ridiculous to slightly worrying. The most crucial of those confidants, as you can imagine, are his pesky friends.”

Placing the capsule back onto the table delicately, he continues. “The second is what I’ve mentioned before, back in the palace—Kurusu would walk backwards into hell for his little troupe. However, the very notion of teammates demands more than one side of the party.”

He begins to stack the capsules on top of each other until a structure is created on top of the polished table (they both pretend not to notice the elderly couple eyeing them with annoyance). “And finally, number three—” Akechi leans back, gazing uninterestedly at the miniature pyramid made out of eight creamer capsules. “Is that every single one of his teammates would do the same for him.”

Like a lock and key, the pieces of it click in her mind. When he lays it out like that, it’s almost obvious.

Sumire gestures to the pyramid. “May I?” At his nod, she (reluctantly) moves her barely-touched plate out of the way and considers the structure before her.

“Kurusu-senpai is doing this for his friends,” she states.

“Indeed.”

“So, if we plan accordingly…” extending her pointer finger and, carefully, prods the base. All eight pieces fall over, the one at the top crashing down to earth the hardest.

Sumire looks up to see Akechi smiling at her, if one would be willing to call it that; it’s slightly too sinister to be called a grin, with the way his eyes are filled with subsided manic energy, though it’s shadowed by the forelocks of his brown hair—he’s the spitting image of a classic Disney villain if it were an R-rated film.

“Now you’re playing the game.”

—

The plan was simple. Straight forward.

It wasn’t too different from a hostage situation—you can’t make a move if the hostages are held over you as leverage, forced to comply with whatever the gunman wanted so long as nobody gets hurt. Take away the citizens and suddenly the situation gets a lot simpler.

Maruki had, inadvertently or not, held a gun to the Thieves’ heads with Akira playing negotiator. All Akechi and Sumire have to do is remove the hostages from the scene safely. If Akira, the negotiator, can’t be reasoned with, then they’ll just have to place their trust in the rest of them to convince Akira themselves. They just need a bit of a wake-up call.

Really, it’s a simple solution to a complex problem. All that’s left is the execution.

—

YS: are you there? i’d like to ask you something. AG: What? YS: i understand that splitting up would be smarter to make this a lot speedier and id like not to stay in this reality any longer than necessary YS: but after thinking about it, isn’t it better to do it together to guarantee success? if we can’t fail on convincing them that their reality isn’t real, then doing it together is probably a good idea! AG: That may be true. I’d like this entire fiasco to be over as soon as possible. YS: same! And you also know them way better than i do :) AG: Please don’t remind me. YS: noted AG: Are you opposed to meeting in leblanc tomorrow? We can begin our plan there. YS: starting with Morgana-senpai? that’ll be good actually. he’s the only one i at least kind of befriended AG: You’re aware that he’s not here, right? That he is not physically reading the word ‘senpai’, right? YS: yes AG: Just making sure.

Leblanc is blessedly empty when they enter, the blunt yet strong fragrance of coffee beans seeming to waft from every direction with only the slightest hint of smoke drifting towards them from the bright orange tip of Sojiro’s cigarette. He tilts the corner of his lip up at their entrance, even as his eyes light up with curiosity.

“Morning,” he greets, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth and snuffing out its embers on the ashtray. “Sorry bout that, shouldn’t be smoking in front of you kids—Niijima gives me a nasty look whenever I do it. So, what can I do you for? If it’s coffee you want, it’s on the house.”

“As tempting as that may be, we’re going to have to decline,” Akechi answers. He’s once again donning a mask of pleasantness, layered so thick that Sumire has to wonder how she ever believed it. “However, we’d love to speak with Morgana for a moment, if you don’t mind?”

“Sure,” Sojiro jerks his head at the wooden staircase. “Head on up.”

They nod their thanks and make their way upstairs.

Sumire had learned early on in her life that she wasn’t someone who was prone to falling for jump scares. Horror movies aren’t really an issue for her and haunted houses were always more of an interesting location to gauge visitors’ reactions rather than try to get anything out of it herself. Often times, it is psychological horror that affected her, the creepiness of it sliding into her mind that causes her to shake and tremble.

Even though Akechi had reminded her once more, even if she spent a good amount of time trying to picture if, even though on a technical level, she knew what she would be looking at—

“Yoshizawa? Oh, Akechi too! I didn’t expect to see you guys here.”

—Nothing could have possibly prepared her for the sight of human Morgana.

He’s sat on what she’s almost sure is Akira’s bed, though it’s a futon placed on top of a bunch of grocery pallets. He has dark hair that could be mistaken as black had the sunlight from the window not shined on him, and the only remnants that could have resonated his cat form is his once-collar turning into a gold chain paired with his bright, blue eyes. With a manga perched on his lap, he looks like an ordinary boy that she wouldn’t even think twice about.

It's a really unnerving thought.

“Hello Morgana,” Akechi says when Sumire can’t seem to find her words. “May we speak to you for a second?”

“Of course! Make yourselves at home. Er, sorry it’s a little messy,” he stands and clumsily beats the run-down couch with his human hands. “Don’t know how I never noticed the mess in here before—”

Sumire leans to Akechi, eyes never leaving the fussing boy. “You’re right.”

“About?”

“This is truly harrowing.”

“You overheard that conversation?”

“—But better late than never!” Morgana finishes, giving the sofa one last pat and gesturing for them to sit. “Oh, and just let you know, I can’t stay for too long; Lady Ann wants me to carry her stuff while she walks around Shibuya and, well what kind of gentleman would I be to say no?” He laughs, so elated that it’s almost like they missed out on a gut-busting joke.

“That’s fine, this won’t take long, Morgana-senpai.”

Morgana juts his chin out, poorly concealing his smugness. “Anything for you, Yoshizawa! Just like back in Odaiba.”

He blinks, brow creasing. “Odaiba...with Akira.” His tone turns confused, like the words that were coming out of his mouth were leaving without his consent. “That was a wild day, we just found a Palace. And you had your awakening, and I was so shocked and….” A hand comes up, clutching his head and eyes scrunched tightly. “I was…”

Sumire and Akechi lock eyes, the same thought going through their mind: it’s the same reaction that Akira had. A weight left her shoulders, knowing that just as they planned, it wasn’t difficult to remind them of the true reality.

What they didn’t expect was for Morgana to disoriently glance at them and say in a quiet voice, “I gotta go...take a walk.”

“Wait, hold on—” Sumire tries.

“Feel free to stay, but I, uh, have to think,” Morgana moves towards the staircase, only half-glancing at their perplexed faces before escaping.

They don’t move until they hear the bell ringing downstairs.

“That could have gone better,” Akechi sighs, voice tight with mild irritation.

“I don’t know why I didn’t put two and two together and predict this. I mean, that’s pretty much my reaction, too!” She throws her hands in the air. “I was too distracted by how Kurusu-senpai reacted.”

“Well, as we learn time and time again, Kurusu is the exception, not the rule.” Akechi moves to lean against an old work desk, and rather than normal student supplies littering it’s surface, it has strange-looking metals and hardware. “While it’s a shame to have failed in recruiting the cat, all is not lost. As long as we can convince one of them, it’ll at least be enough to make Kurusu hesitate. That’s all we need.”

“Is that the best move?” she asks, walking around the room and inspecting the fun little knickknacks strewn about. It’s probably not the most courteous move of hers to look at someone’s room without permission, but she can’t help it. “Should we try and convince Mona-senpai?”

“It’d be a waste of time, especially while we have six other people to speak to, and our time frame is limited as is.”

“Maybe they’ll naturally come to realize it, without our prompting? He already seemed pretty on the fence about his memories.”

“Perhaps. But like I said, I don’t do gambles.” Sumire peels her away from the realistic-looking ramen bowl just in time to see the flint in his eyes. “And hell would freeze over before I let this counterfeit reality become the real one.”

Sumire smiles, though her eyes are just as hard as his. “I understand the sentiment.”

They regard each other for a long moment.

Akechi readjusts his coat. “We should leave and try again tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. Oh, maybe Boss is still up for the free coffee he mentioned.”

“Ugh, finally some good news.” They head down the stairs. “Hopefully we can make it quick—don’t want to take any chances.”

“Chances? I thought you liked the coffee here.”

“Oh, I do. But the regulars here might put a bit of a damper on the—”

The moment Akechi’s foot hits the main floor, the door to Leblanc swings open once more and a young girl with bright orange hair bursts in.

“--Situation.”

—

YS: who should come after Morgana-senpai? AG: It doesn’t matter. AG: But there are a few people who I want to postpone, if possible. YS: that’s fine, but why? AG: No reason, but if we can guarantee that we’ve convinced the others before them. AG: It’s a stroke of luck that Morgana’s wish was easy to figure out, but we have no such advantage afterwards. However, I have a select few...intuitions, for what their wishes might be. YS: that’s better than nothing! Lay them on me. AG: For some of them, nothing may be the better option.

“Ah, did you forget something?” Sojiro chides, chuckling. “I told you to double-check your bag before running off.

Futaba slaps her forehead. “Gah, I know, but there’s no way I’m missing out on a day of Akihabara with mom! It’s like getting the motherlode cheat in the Sims.” She hops over the counter and slides behind the bar, very nearly knocking over the yellow landline. “Agility plus three!”

“We have guests, Futaba, and business is hard enough as is without you jumping around.”

“Huh? People? Futaba scans the cafe, her mouth rounding to a perfect O as she is, in fact, not alone. “People! People I know!”

Sumire waves, charmed at the other girl’s exuberance. “Sorry to intrude.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. It’s nice to see this place having some people around to move the dust every once in a while,” gesturing to the wall of canisters, her arm outstretched like an experienced realtor. “Feel free to have whatever you’d like, free of charge!”

“Futaba,” Sojiro exasperates, with no small amount of adoration laced in every syllable. He turns to them in a what can you do? gesture. “She’s right, though. Say the word and I’ll brew something up.”

Futaba gasps. “Mom! She’s still out there waiting. Oh, big brain idea comin’ in!” She redirects her outstretched hand to point at them, still standing awkwardly at the staircase. “I’ll bring mom in here and introduce you both!”

Akechi stiffens on her left. “No need, we were just about to—”

“Ah, ah, ah! Nope!” she interrupts, already halfway out the door. “I’ll be back before you can recite the national anthem.” Futaba runs out, leaving the ball ringing behind her.

“That girl is a whirlwind,” Sojiro says gruffly. “Hope she didn’t scare you off. Especially you, Akechi,” he ducks behind the bar, rummaging through its shelves. “You ran out real fast last time you came in here.”

Sumire’s eyes dart towards Akechi when he doesn’t answer. “Are you okay?”

He’s about to answer when Futaba decides to burst in for the second time, chest heaving and face pink. A grin takes up every crevice of her features as she clutches the hand of a woman looking fondly at her. “I come bearing gifts! Well, a gift.”

Sojiro sighs. “Sorry Wakaba, can’t reign her in like you can.”

“You’d be a fool to think anyone reign her in,” Wakaba laughs, before tilting her head curiously at Akechi and Sumire. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“They’re friends with Akira and I!” Futaba says, chest puffed out. “Yoshizawa and Akechi, meet my mom—” For a split second, Futaba’s eyes widen before grabbing the counter’s ledge. “Nngh…”

“Sweetheart?”

“Futaba, what’s wrong?”

Sumire turns to Akechi, a clear question in her eyes. What triggered it?

“My head,” Futaba groans. She removes her glasses and rubs her eyes furiously with her palm.

However, the minute she pulls her hand away, Futaba’s eyes open and Sumire feels her stomach lurch uncomfortably. Those are no longer the eyes of the girl playfully giving away the contents of a humble coffee shop to mess with her dad; they’re the eyes of someone who’s confused, shocked, and, above all else livid.

And she’s directing it all at Akechi.

“Mom,” she says, voice trembling. “I feel better, so let’s go.”

Wakaba frowns. “Are you sure? You look so pale."

“Don’t worry! I just—I just really want to go.”

Futaba throws another glare at Akechi and an inquisitive look at Sumire before leaving, her previous energy sapped away.

SIghing, Wakaba gives them an apologetic look. “Sorry about that. Futaba has such a one-track mind. I’ll be sure that she apologizes—”

“Don’t,” Akechi says. “She doesn’t have to apologize for anything.”

“Oh, that’s very sweet of you," some of the tension in her shoulders dissipate. “I’m so glad to have people like you looking out for my Futaba.”

Akechi doesn’t say anything, even when Wakaba gives them a wave, following Futaba out to the backstreets of Yongen.

It was quiet for a long moment.

Sojiro clears his throat. “You still up for that coffee?”

“No, thank you,” Akechi replies, his voice possessing an odd quality to it. “I must get going now. If you’d excuse me,” In a few quick strides, he’s out of the door.

Sumire bows quickly. “Thank you for having us,” she says politely before following him out.

Looking left and right, Akechi is briskly heading towards the station. She catches up to him with ease.

“You knew that would happen,” she says flatly.

He keeps walking. “I did.”

“And you didn’t tell me? Didn’t you think that, I don’t know, would have affected our mission?”

“I didn’t tell you because it’s none of your business, and if I’m not mistaken, that’s still the case.”

“None of my business?” She ups her pace and stands in front of Akechi, forcing him to stop in his tracks. With him standing six inches taller than her, their height gap is a wide one, but in no way is Sumire going to let him keep looking down on her. “It became my business the minute we wanted the same thing: to fix this reality. I’ve come to understand that you’re not interested in being friends, but do not go against your own word by refusing to see me as an ally.”

They stare each other down for a few seconds, a handful of the neighbourhood’s residents whispering about them and scuttling away in fear that they might get caught in the middle of some teenage spat.

“Fine,” he relents. “It wasn’t the best move to withhold information. This won’t happen again. But,” looking around, there’s still some people milling about, an old man dutifully listening to the radio. “Not here.”

“Do you promise?”

Akechi scoffs and moves around her. “Would you like to pinky swear?”

“Akechi.”

“Fine, yes, I promise. Are you really such a goody two shoes that you need a damn contract?”

Sumire frowns. “Goody two shoes?”

“As straight laced as the student council president herself,” he confirms, pulling out his commuter's card as they near the station. “At least Niijima broke out of it once she realized what she was fighting for,” he looks back at her. “Have you?”

Clenching a fist, she says, “You have no idea what I’m fighting for. And I’m still not sure if you know what you’re fighting for, Akechi.”

His gaze hardens. “I know damn well what I’m fighting for. Not everyone has philanthropy running through their veins. That’s Kurusu’s job.”

A crowd of people exit their trains, filling up the station. By the time it dissipates, Akechi is gone.

—

YS: shouldn’t we try to approach Sakamoto-senpai first? YS: i’m sure kurusu-senpai doesn’t play favorites, but he IS his best friend, and, well, in love with him. it would be smart to guarantee that he’s on our side AG: True. Whether we like it or not, that jester is an important factor to the success of the mission. AG: But that’s why I think we should save him for last. It’s better to guarantee everyone first and then Sakamoto as a last resort. YS: (´;︵;`) AG: ...What. YS: that’s rude to sakamoto-senpai. he’s really nice! AG: No, I mean what is...that? YS: an emoji? i love them, they’re very expressive. AG: Stop that. YS: .·´¯`(>▂<)´¯`·.

Instead of taking the train right away, Sumire decides to take a look at the inner workings of Yongen.

It’s a lovely little area—away from the insatiable hustle of Shibuya but close enough in case you want to indulge yourself in shopping and the never ending waves of shoppers. Yongen is like it’s younger, humbler cousin; small groceries, a quiet movie theatre, batting cages, and of course, a quaint cafe with a dedicated fan base of elderly couples, pretentious film critics, and a large group of teenagers.

She goes to none of these commodities, finding herself drawn to the second-hand shop run by a kind old man. An expensive habit it may be, but Sumire has always fallen back to shopping whenever she’s feeling frustrated at the world. She may not have a closet worthy of Vague, but it’s an enjoyable distraction at the very least.

And after that conversation with Akechi, she’ll take any distraction she can get.

Sumire takes a deep inhale. It would be laughably easy to let herself snap on the detective, with the stunt he pulled earlier. This mission is difficult enough as it is, especially without the mind games. It’s like playing tug-of-war with a brick wall; she’s lost the game before she even began. No, she refuses to lose. If there’s one thing she’s learned in gymnastics (except how to execute a flawless aerial cartwheel) is that half the competition is the mindset you have walking on to the mat. If you take a step with the slightest belief that you’re going to fail, the medal was doomed to fall in someone else’s hands.

Sumire begins to shop even harder.

She’s in the middle of inspecting a strangely charming glasses case that her father would absolutely love when she hears a surprised, “Yoshizawa?”

Nearly dropping the case, she turns to find a sweaty, grinning Ryuji, hand gripping one of his earphones that she can hear even from here. “Sakamoto-senpai!” Carefully placing it back down, she heads towards him, waving. “Do you run in this area?”

“Heck yeah! Life hack:” he looks around like someone who’s about to spill the beans on nuclear codes. “If you look tired enough, Boss’ll give you free drinks.” Sumire can’t help but laugh, and he goes on. “And y’know, I see ‘Kira here all the time, so that’s always a plus.

She fights not to let the smile drop from her face. “That must be nice.”

“Eh, it ain’t half-bad,” he says ruefully, but there was no hiding the clear fondness his voice possesses. “Hey, you got something goin’ on right now?”

“Um, not particularly.”

“Eff yeah! How about you and I walk around? There’s a real nice park down the street and, uh,” his expression turns sheepish. “In all honesty, you look like you could use a bit of a breather right now.”

Three things run through Sumire’s mind in the span of a breath: Ryuji’s definitely one of the nicest senpais she’s ever had, Akechi would probably warn her that hanging out with Ryuji might be stupid on her part, and that’s a huge part as to why she’s most definitely going to agree to spend time with him.

“I’d love to, as long as I’m not interrupting your workout in any way.”

“Nah, I’m on my cool down anyway.” Yanking out his other earphone and shoving them in his track pants (trademark Shujin red and white). “Let’s get this show on the road!”

“Yes, let’s!”

A fourth thought ran through her mind; a quiet, subdued, selfish thought that she herself is too wary to consciously think about. Her goal right now is an honest one. She just wants a window—the same window that Akira had looked out from. What does he see? What’s going through his mind when he sees Ryuji? All she wants is a little bit of perspective.

“What were you listening to?” Sumire asks. “During your run.”

“Oh, nothing crazy,” Ryuji shrugs. “Just some political podcasts.”

“Really?” She always assumed he listened more to punk songs that hurt her ears.

“Yeah, I mean there’s a lot of shit going on in the world, and there ain’t much I can do ‘bout it. I might as well get pissed off in, like, a smart way, so I know what I’m talking about.”

“That’s really impressive! I usually don’t listen to anything while I run since I have to actively focus on my form.”

Ryuji’s eyes nearly bug out of his head. “You run? I mean, yeah, no duh you run, you’re like all gymnasticsy and stuff! And you don’t listen to music?”

“Not really.”

“That’s hardcore. That’s like what monks do on the mountains.”

“Oh, I’m nowhere near that level.”

“You’re closer than I am, at least. You need crazy good concentration when you do your…” Ryuji does a messy hop-and-spin move. “How long you been doing that by the way?”

“Gymnastics? Since I was really young.”

“No way. You gotta tell me about it!”

The two of them walk around the park with Sumire explaining her journey of experiencing the competitive world of gymnastics (carefully exempting the darker parts) and Ryuji oohs and ahhs at the appropriate times, eagerly asking her technical questions on her regimen with a crazy amount of detail. It’s clear that he’s passionate about athleticism and Sumire can’t help but be infected by his genuine enthusiasm, asking him for tips on how to avoid cramps while running long distance in return.

But one thing that Sumire can’t help but notice is how permanent Akira’s presence is in their conversation, despite not being here physically. Whether it’s Ryuji mentioning him in passing, or rolling his eyes at something he did, or just asking in a teasing tone if Akira’s actually a good senpai (“c’mon, he ain’t here, I’m no snitch I promise!”). Despite all that, it’s obvious it’s all done with a bucketful of tenderness; a clear and unbreaking thread that ties the two together that no blade in the world can cut apart.

And that’s the moment that Sumire realizes, only for a split second, she got what she wanted: perspective.

While she herself may not harbor those feelings, it’s easy to see how someone could—especially if they were a transfer student who had distressing rumors surrounding them since day one. Sumire can understand the impact that one person may have on you when it feels like you’re fighting all of Shibuya. She can comprehend the need to fight for that person’s happiness—after all, isn’t that what she’s doing?

A realization jolts her as she watches Ryuji speak, eyes bright and hands moving animatedly, that he’s probably still under the rose-tinted lenses of Akira’s wish.

He drops her off the station with a wave once they’re done. Sumire’s left to deal with sifting through which parts of their conversation was either byproduct of the wish or which was the real Sakamoto Ryuji.

—

AG: There’s also the matter of finding their locations. Some of them aren’t as straight forward in their hangouts, while others are as predictable as playing poker with Sakamoto. AG: Knowing Kitagawa, he would be loitering around the museum in Ueno. It would be easy to ambush him there.

They find Yusuke gazing at the portrait of Sayuri in Ueno the next day.

It was an odd sight, seeing Sayuri out in the open again. Sumire only knew about its history through public knowledge—a once internationally renowned artist named Madarame had been stealing his students’ art and abusing them under his care. While Yusuke’s name had initially been anonymous, it was impossible to completely leave him incognito with how massive the case had been; the painting of Sayuri, once praised to high heaven and appreciated by people who had never even picked up a paintbrush, forever bastardized and tainted by the greed of Madarame.

And now it’s on display once more.

“Let’s get this over with,” Akechi says as they close the gap between them and Yusuke.

“Be nice,” she reminds him, and clears her throat. “Kitagawa-san?”

Yusuke slowly peels his eyes away from the painting and lights up once he processes who was speaking. “Yoshizawa, Akechi, hello. Have you come here to look at my mother’s painting as well?”

“Yes,” says Sumire. “It’s truly beautiful and...a shock to see.”

He nods, his vision trailing back towards the portrait. “It’s all thanks to my sensei’s unyielding patronage that I’m lucky enough to view it from a museum,” Yusuke speaks with warmth, a tone contradicting the bluntness that Yoshizawa had associated him with. “Everyday I thank the hand of fate that dealt my cards; had I not had my sensei supporting me, I don’t know where I’d be today.”

Sumire swallows. “Do you mean Madarame?”

“Of course!” Yusuke claps his hands together, elated. “Speaking of, would you two like to join us for dinner tonight? I’d so dearly love for you both to meet him,” Yusuke smiles and she feels her chest tighten. “To spread the word of my sensei’s excellence as a thank you for what he’s done for my mother...nothing would make me happier.”

You don’t know them like I do. You don’t know how much it means for them to have their lives back.

Akira’s voice enters her mind, and she almost sympathizes with his words. Mostly though, all she can think about is the cruelty of letting Yusuke continue on like this.

“Kitagawa,” Akechi cuts in, unfazed. “Is that Sayuri you were looking at?”

Yusuke’s brow creases. “Sayuri...? That isn’t what it’s called….”

“Is Madarame-san a good sensei?” Sumire presses, and holds back a flinch when his resolve begins to crumble in front of her.

“Madarame,” he whispers. “Am I being fooled again?”

“Only if you let yourself be,” says Sumire.

“So focus,” says Akechi.

They wait with bated breath as they watch Yusuke struggle to reign in the whirlwind of thoughts flying through his brain, clenching his fists and shoulders tensing.

And then, slowly, he raises his head at them, defeated.

“Excuse me, but I must be going.”

Sumire winces, and stretches her hand out. “Kitagawa—” But he was already gone.

Beside her, Akechi lets out a hiss. “Useless. They’re all useless.”

“We still have four to go,” she reminds him. “And please try to understand his pain. He lost his mother and he has to find out that he was being used. That’s horrible.”

“Oh, boohoo. So did I, but you don’t see me having a breakdown in the middle of a museum.”

Her eyes widen and Akechi scoffs. “Save me the pity bullshit, we don’t have time for that. Besides,” he heads for the exit. “That hasn’t bothered me in a long, long time.”

—

YS: oh, i know where one of them may be! Takamaki-senpai frequents the underground mall, and i bet we can find her there :) AG: Understood. AG: (*❛‿❛)→ YS: sorry? AG: What? You were correct in that they’re useful for conveying expressions. AG: The arrow indicates that it’s pointing. I.e. you have a point that Takamaki is probably there. YS: ooh! I never thought about it like that. nice one!

Sumire didn’t know how she didn’t realize it sooner.

Rumors are a staple of Shujin Academy; if you weren’t the focus of one, you’d be the one spreading it—the gust of wind amidst a wildfire. In her first year, there were really only three hotspots in the rumour mill that were constantly being shoved in Sumire’s ears: the vulgar used-to-be ace of the track team who’s now a violent delinquent, the serial killer/arsonist/elephant trafficker criminal transfer student that came in early April, and the gorgeous foreigner that no one can take their eyes off, least of all the coach of the volleyball team.

Sumire isn’t a stranger to the cycle, having been the focus of one ever since she was made an honors student. While it had made her life unnecessarily difficult, it granted her a different outlook on those three. It has shown her an obvious truth that people seem to forget when they’re parroting false facts: most rumors aren’t true.

The delinquent isn’t actually a delinquent, but someone who refuses to stay quiet in the name of injustice. The transfer student is only a criminal in the eyes of the law, someone who had the opportunity to save someone and wouldn’t hesitate to do it again, no matter the cost. The foreign student is just a girl who’s unfortunate enough to end up in the spotlight of an irredeemable scumbag of a teacher that never hesitated to hold his power over students.

But.

There was another rumor that followed Ann, one that didn’t get displayed on a billboard and screamed from the rooftops. It was passed around quietly, like a drug deal, and it was buried beneath the Kamoshida hearsay.

Most rumors aren’t true, but seeing Ann and Shiho interact with each other in the mall, Sumire didn’t know how she didn’t realize sooner that they’re head-over-heels in love with each other.

“Ugh, Shiho, I seriously can’t stop thinking about that spike you did in the last game!” Ann gushes as they shop for shoes. “It’s just like bam! Like some kind of cannon! I’m so glad it was taped.”

“Stop, you’re overreacting,” Shiho rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling wide enough that it wipes away any heat.

“No way, I’m gonna keep yelling about how incredible my girlfriend is until—Oh, hold on Shiho—Hey! Akechi! Yoshizawa! Over here!”

Ann enthusiastically waves them over. “Fancy seeing you two here. Doing some New Year’s shopping? Shiho and I are just celebrating the fact that she was the MVP in her last volleyball tournament,” she puffs out her chest. “But it really stinks that I couldn’t be there to watch in person with her, with her school being so far and all. She’s coming back this year, though! I’m so excited!”

Sumire nods, smiling, and tries not to stare at Shiho. Everyone’s seen a glimpse of what Shiho looked like after that day. No one thought that she’d be walking at all anytime soon, and even after intensive therapy it would be difficult to bring it back a hundred percent. But here she is now, speaking casually about playing in a volleyball tournament like she was born to do it.

“Oh my God, Ann, they don’t need to know that.” Shiho turns to Akechi, sheepish. “Sorry you hear all that, especially when I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Suzui Shiho. It’s good to meet you, detective.”

“Pleasure,” he replies, smiling politely. “It seems to me that you’re looking much better, Suzui-san.”

Sumire should really stop being surprised at the complete lack of reservation that Akechi possesses when it comes to reminding people of the true reality, no matter how heart-wrenching their past is.

“I’ve always been fine,” says Suzui, the comment flying over her head. “I hope you’re doing well, too.”

Akechi’s eye twitches and Sumire hurries to jump in. “It seems the two of you are happy,” she glances at Ann, and tries not to feel too bad when she says, “Especially considering what happened with Kamoshida.”

A beat passes before Ann’s gaze begins to cloud over with a now-familiar expression of disorientation and pain. Holding her breath, hoped that they could finally have their first ally amongst the Thieves.

Then Ann shakes her head aggressively and they knew it was a lost cause.

Chuckling nervously, Ann grabs Shiho’s hand. “Sorry, I just remembered we had plans to go somewhere. See you later!” Ann begins to drag Shiho—and herself—away.

Akechi clicks his tongue. “Four people in a group founded on justice and they’ve chosen to ignore their own. This is getting pathetic.”

“We still have three to go,” Sumire says. “There’s still time.”

Eyeing her with disdain, “How is that you don’t seem the least bit bothered about this?”

“There’s still three people to get to! And, not to mention, there’s a possibility that they’ll come to terms with their feelings in due time.” She tilts her head. “Have you forgotten the bonds that Kurusu-senpai has with his friends?”

“Of course not.”

“Then it’s fine,” she says. “We just have to believe that they’ll be there for him when he needs him most. Even if they aren’t here at this very moment, that’s okay.” Tucking one of her long, red locks behind her ear, she smiles. “Faith is an advantage in its own right.”

#owo? whats this? another chapter?#persona 5 #persona 5 royal #p5 #p5r #goro akechi #ryuji sakamoto #sumire yoshizawa #kasumi yoshizawa #blinding lights #akiryu #pegoryu #akira kurusu #writing goro like a piece of shit is just so good its like therapy BUT YOU GOTTA DO IT RESPECTFULLY #i may hate him but i dont hate him. no <3 #anyway wear a mask and social distance #mine

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babbushka · 5 years

Text

It’s Always You

Charlie x Reader

Warnings: NSFW

Word count: 3k

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

Whenever it's early twilight

I watch 'til a star breaks through

Funny, it's not a star I see

It's always you

“You don’t have to say yes.” Charlie starts the conversation off, as you’re both browsing the produce.

Strawberries are in season, and you pick up a carton of them as he inspects bananas.

“Why don’t you ask me first?” You say, not really looking at him, voice low.

You had been meeting in the grocery store for a year now, every Sunday, at exactly ten a.m. It was one of the only things that you both knew you could count on, meeting every week, seeing each other every week. No one knew you there but the staff, and they didn’t suspect. They just thought you were a couple of regulars.

No one suspected.

Charlie picks a bunch of bananas and puts them in his cart, along with the other things he’s gotten for the week.

“Keep me company?” He asks, looking at you now, passing you with his cart but stopping right in front of you. “It’s the first night in the new place. The first night…”

He doesn’t say the first night I’ll be alone.

He doesn’t have to, you hear it anyway.

“Why would I say no?” You ask back, voice soft.

“Because I barely have any furniture yet and all I can offer you is a takeaway dinner and some TV and – ” Charlie starts to get worked up, starts to do that thing that he does when he’s frayed at the edges.

You hate to see him like this.

“Of course I’ll stay with you.” You want to reach out and hold him, so badly. You want to, but you can’t, not here, not now. Not where everyone can see and know, you can’t let them know.

“All night?” Charlie pleads, and you don’t feel like you’re in the produce section of the grocery store, not when he looks at you like that. You feel lost in his gaze, like you’re on an island somewhere, somewhere sunny and warm.

You know better, there are dark clouds on the horizon, a storm coming to the island.

“All night.” You say with a nod as you reach for raspberries too. “I’ll make breakfast in the morning and you can tell me about your plans for the place.”

Charlie nods and walks away, pushes his cart to the deli. You go to the bakery.

Whenever I roam through roses

And lately I often do

Funny, it's not a rose I touch

It's always you

“It’s a house.” He says, when you reconnect near the cereal. Charlie loved cereal, the boring flavors. You loved that about him, it meant you didn’t have to share yours. “It’s a nice house. I didn’t want to do that thing, you know? That thing where the dad moves away and lives in a bachelor pad apartment forever. I want Henry to have a backyard he can run around in, I want him to have someplace he’ll be excited to visit.”

“He’d be excited to visit you if you lived in a shoebox.” You smile, a little more open now that you were tucked away in an aisle, instead of out in the open.

“Maybe now, but when he grows up and resents me, it won’t be so easy.” Charlie groans, and you give him a hard stern look.

“Henry isn’t going to resent you.” You place a hand on his, right over it, right over where it sits on the handle of the shopping cart. “And I’ll tell you that all night if I have to. I’ll tell you all night.”

The grocery store plays jazz, and the storm starts to break, rain falling down on the roof of the grocery store.

Charlie tucks a slip of paper into your purse, an address. His new address, just outside of town.

You part ways.

If a breeze caresses me

It's really you strolling by

If I hear a melody

It's merely the way you sigh

“I never thought I could have this, you know.” He says with a sigh, hours later.

You followed the address right to his front door, a stunning two-story painted all white.

It was empty, painfully empty.

But there would be time, time for love, time to fill it with memories.

“Have what?” You ask, your head on his shoulder.

All he’s got in the living room is a love-seat, and a television balanced on a stool. It’s late, much too late, you both have work in the morning, you have to leave and go back to pretending there’s nothing going on here, there’s nothing.

Nothing that anyone can prove.

There’s so much, but nothing anyone can prove.

“You, next to me like this.” He says, resting his cheek on the top of your head, slowly moving to hold your hand in his, intertwine the fingers. “I wanted it for so long, and I know – I know that makes me a bad person. But it’s true.”

“You remember that time I couldn’t babysit Henry because I had a date? Like a year ago?” You say softly, watching as the blue glow from the television casts shadows on the wall.

“Yeah.” Charlie says, says it like he’s angry, like he’d rather not remember.

“It went really well, they were nice and funny and interesting. They complimented my outfit and my hair and asked about what I did and had genuine questions about my hobbies. We talked about politics and celebrities and the national news and the community gossip and we were on the same page about everything. I never called them back.” You continue, looking down at your intertwined hands.

“How come?” He whispers, watching you trace his knuckles with your free hand.

“Because the entire time, all I could think about was you.” You glanced up, eyes wet, nervous. So nervous that now, even after all this, after everything, he’d reject you, get mad at you.

Instead, he kisses you, and your body feels like it’s on fire, like the lightning outside is zipping through you and not the atmosphere.

“It felt like a betrayal, to be out on a date that wasn’t with you. And how fucking stupid was that? To reject someone who seemed perfect on the surface, just because they weren’t you?” You ask, stuck – you were so stuck, a fool. You were a fool for this man. “I never thought I would know you as anything other than my best friend, my neighbor. And still, the whole time I just wanted to be with you, a married man.”

“I’m not married anymore.” Charlie says, says it like it’s a secret, like he hasn’t said it out loud yet.

Maybe he hasn’t.

“No, you’re not.” You agree, run your finger over the spot where the wedding ring used to live.

“I haven’t felt married in a long time.” He confesses, and you can’t help but let out a sad laugh at that.

“I know.” You say, “If you had, I don’t think you’d’ve even taken one look at me.”

“Yes, I would’ve.” Charlie shakes his head, reaches his free hand up and presses the pads of his fingers to your cheek, just the lightest of touches.

It’s so late, late enough that it might as well be morning.

You knew you could call in to work tomorrow, tell them something came up – but Charlie couldn’t. Charlie was important, was needed. So many people needed Charlie.

“I didn’t bring any night-clothes.” You say, just to have something to say, just to talk to him.

You loved talking to him.

“You can wear something of mine.” He says with a frown, but you chuckle a bit.

“Charlie.” You raise your eyebrows, and he gets it, picks up the hint.

“Oh!” He says, too loud, startling the both of you. “Oh, or we could both wear nothing.”

“I don’t want to pressure you into anything, I just thought – ” You immediately backtrack, not wanting to push him into what you want, not wanting to make him feel obligated.

“You’re not! Believe me, you’re not.” He says, squeezes your hand tight, casts his eyes down in embarrassment. “It’s just been a while…since I’ve had sex.”

“Me too.” You re-assure him, sad for him.

If he were your husband, you’d want to have sex with him every day.

You don’t say it out loud, but he hears it anyway.

“Okay.” He nods, turns off the tv.

Wherever you are, you're near me

You dare me to be untrue

Funny, each time I fall in love

It's always you

He kisses you in the dark of the living room, strips you naked.

He unwraps you like a present, one he’s been looking forward to all year, one he takes his time opening because even the wrapping-paper is precious.

Your hands shake as they unbutton his clothes, and he kisses you to help you relax, he kisses to help his own hands calm themselves, calm himself.

It’s the first time his hands can touch you like this, can reveal you to him like this, he needs to kiss you.

The bedroom is even more scarce, nothing but a bed against the wall.

“Can I touch you?” He asks, sounding so pained, like he would shatter if you said no.

You’re half asleep, tucked under the covers and pressed against his warm frame, soaking up the heat that his body radiates. You don’t really hear him, don’t know if you were dreaming it or not, in that state of half asleep.

“Hm?” You blink an eye open, found his lidded ones looking right at you, face so close you almost have to go cross-eyed to see him in the low light.

“You look so soft, can I?” He asks again, mouth so warm as he bridges the gap between you and presses the sweetest of chaste kisses to your lips.

“Please, please Charlie.” You kiss him back, the sound of gentle kisses thrumming in your ears, beating in your chest. “I’ve dreamt about you touching me.”

And it was true, you had – too many nights spent, dreaming of his hands on you. Dreaming of the times when you stole moments at parties, or at ‘chance’ meetings out in the city. Dreaming of the way his touch lingered on your sleeve, or the hem of your skirt, or your shoulders as he helped you into your coat.

You roll onto your back, and Charlie follows, props himself up on his side as his free hand leaves goosebumps in its wake, touch scorching your skin as he lets a hand cup your breast, his thumb toy with your nipple.

“I don’t know how I’m going to live here without you,” Charlie says, chin wobbling as he shuffles closer to you, kisses your bare chest, “Be in this bed without you.”

You pull him to lay his head on your sternum, encourage him to bury his face into your chest and breathe you in. You run a hand through his hair as he peppers kisses all over you, years and years of waiting for this.

“You won’t have to, not for long.” You reassure him, although not sounding so convinced yourself, “We just need a little time, a little more time so it doesn’t reflect poorly on you, on your career.”

The last thing you want is for people to think badly of him. Charlie is the least bad person you know, but people love to gossip. They love to hop on a rumor and run with it, they love to expose and destroy and you want none of that for Charlie – none of it.

So if you have to wait, you would wait. Charlie is having none of it.

“I’ve wasted so much time being apart from you as it is.” He whispers, listening to your heartbeat for a moment.

The thunder has subsided now, the storm passing, leaving nothing but the gentle patter of rain in its wake.

“You’ve got me now, Charlie I promise.” You whisper back, “I promise you’ve got me. Touch me, please?”

His hands shake as he trails them down your chest, down your stomach, between your legs. You suck in a breath of anticipation and spread your thighs, just enough so he can dip his fingers in between the warm folds of your cunt.

“You have to tell me,” He says, licking his lips as he shuffles even closer, his stomach now pressing up against your side, “You have to tell me what you like, how you like it. I want to make you feel so fucking good.”

You loop your arms around his neck, reach up to kiss him. God he is such a good kisser, his lips are perfect for it, perfect. His tongue is hot and insistent as he pulls noises out of your throat, you can only imagine that tongue shoved in your pussy.

Maybe you’d ask for it – you could ask for things now, you could have them.

You could have him.

“Three,” You gasp against his mouth, “Three fingers and I’ll come – you’ll make me come.” You say, and he moans, moans at the thought.

“Fuck,” He sighs, doing as you tell him, starting off with one…then two, “I’ve thought about it, what you look like, how you sound when you come. When I jerk off in the shower it’s to the thought of you crying out my name, say my name?”

“Charlie!” You gasp when he pumps those fingers in and out of you, eyes shut tight because you can’t bear the pleasure of it, “Oh yes, please? Please!”

“You’re so sweet, so sweet for me.” He murmurs, in awe, as he adds the third finger. “C-can I – ?”

His cock is hard against your thigh where he’s pressed against you, and you’re already nodding before he can even finish asking.

“I don’t want to wait any more.” You gasp, moan, keen for him.

His hands are so big, his cock is even bigger. How was he not constantly getting laid?

“I don’t have – fuck I’m so stupid, I don’t have anything.” Charlie pulls away just a minute, unsure what to do, trying to think.

“It’s okay, it’s okay I’m – ” You swallow, your throat clicks, “I’m on the pill.”

He breathes a sigh of relief, moves to lay on top of you, props his weight up on his hands.

You smooth your hands down his back, feel the way his muscles move as he bends down to kiss you. He’s so hungry for you, you can taste it.

“Next time, I’ll get some for next time.” He promises, and a jolt goes through you.

Next time, there’ll be a next time.

“Do you want me on my – ” You start, but he shakes his head, desperate.

“No, stay like this, please?” He asks, “I want to look at you, I want to see you.”

And you grin, heart beating wildly. You nod, smiling too wide, that smile that drops into a gasp as he runs the head of his cock against the folds of your pussy, as he pushes in.

He’s everything you thought he would be, as he fucks you.

“Yes, oh – yes! Fuck.” You can’t help but moan, but sigh.

He’s not rough with you, you’re too precious to him for that, but he takes what he wants – what he needs.

You’re glad to give him what he needs, glad that he needs you, your cunt.

He savors this, like he does everything with you, and there’s a thrill that this doesn’t have to be a secret, not for much longer.

You don’t know how long you both last before you’re coming, before you’re clenching down around him and sweating against his skin, panting against his lips. He swallows your moans, eats them whole, kisses and sucks at your lips, your neck, your shoulders.

“I’m going to come.” He warns you, but you claw at him, desperate for him to stay as close to you as possible.

“You can come in me, it’s okay Charlie.” You tell him, can barely get the words out.

He comes, groans your name as he does.

You swear you can feel wetness on your neck from where he must be crying against you, so overwhelmed with everything.

You pet through his hair, feel his come pulse inside you, feel so wholly and completely his.

If a breeze caresses me

It's really you strolling by

If I hear a melody

It's merely the way you sigh

“I’m going to want this all the time.” He sighs, a few moments later, once he’s regained his own ability to speak.

“Want what?” You ask, and he pulls out of you, collapses down onto the mattress, not moving an inch away from you if he can help it.

“You.” He says with a smile, “Here, with me. In my bed. My come in you. And the second this whole fucking divorce blows over, I’m going to want you at the theater with me, I’m going to want you walking down the street with me, going out to dinner with me – me and Henry.”

“He’s going to be mad at me.” You sigh, thinking about Charlie’s son.

You were terrified, once he finds out what you did, how you broke up his family.

“He loves you.” Charlie frowns, holds your face in between his hands, “He really fucking loves you. You know, one of the reasons he wanted to stay living with Nicole? Because that house is next door to you.”

“No he didn’t.” You whisper, in disbelief.

“Yes, he really did.” He insists, “You’re a genuine friend to him, (Y/N). He doesn’t have many of those. Imagine if you were to…”

“Were to what?” You ask when he trails off.

“Live here, with me.” Charlie says, so soft you almost don’t hear it. “I’d never ask you to move out of your house, but – ”

“I honestly don’t know if I can stay living next to Nicole.” You say, thinking about it, really thinking about it. “Once she finds out about us, about this, it’ll be too uncomfortable to bear, for both of us. I don’t want to hurt her any more than I already have.”

“You could keep the house, rent it to a family. There are tons of families who want a house this close to the city. We could have a green kitchen.” Charlie had been thinking about it too, you can tell.

“Six months.” You say, “Six months after the divorce, I’ll move in. Six months, and then we don’t have to hide anymore.”

There’s a moment of silence, and in the dark you can see Charlie’s wet eyes shine.

“I can do that, I can do six months.” He nods, voice wobbling, filled with hope. “I’d do six years, if I knew – if I knew at the end of it you’d be mine.”

“I’ve always been yours, Charlie.” You promise, and it’s true.

It’s true.

Wherever you are, you're near me

You dare me to be untrue

Funny, each time I fall in love

It's always you

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Tagging @adamsnackdriver @dreamboatdriver @kyloxfem @solotriplets <33

#reader insert #charlie x reader #marriage story #angst #my writing

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