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seung-mong · 10 months

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shoot to kill - bangchan

includes: ex (?) bf! chan x fem reader, ANGST idk im in the mood to break hearts ig, fluff at the end, soft smut, mostly chan reassuring and praising reader

"alright fuck, then maybe we should just take a break."

the words leave chan before he can really think about it, hanging in the air like a knife that's been thrown and stops midair, your gaze ice cold and freezing it in it's track.

"really. thats your solution? a fucking break?" you scoff, your (chan's) shirt that usually hangs loosely suddenly suffocating you, wrapping you in a snake-like grip and making your head feel like you're going to explode.

"yea, i just dont think us being together is good for us anymore."

chan has a bad habit. he says shit he doesnt mean, blames the anger that builds in his chest and spits out words he knows will hurt. because thats what he wants to do. he knows its wrong, fucked even. the way he wants you to hurt the way he hurts.

"christopher."

its a plea. take it back, please. you stand there in front of him, defenseless. the way his full name falls off your tongue sounds wrong. it's devoid of all the emotions you'd usually call him with. where's the gentleness, the softness you usually regard him with?

"maybe we just.. need to stay away from each other right now." chan's voice is steady, betraying the way his insides seem to shake, he's not sure if he's shivering from the cold, or the way your eyes seem to look at him as if you're seeing him for the first time.

"you can't be serious." it hurts to speak, your words squeezing out of you as you struggle to breathe, tears freely flowing.

he should turn this around. surrender. no, he isn't serious. he's so stupid and he loves you and he's just so hurt by what you said a while ago and he's tired and- "i'll sleep at changbin's tonight."

your chest hurts, physically feels like its being ripped apart as you stare at your lover with empty eyes. "thats your solution? to run away? over such a stupid-"

"stupid?" chan laughs hollowly, running a hand through his hair, feeling all the anger rise in him again. "it isn't stupid, y/n. you're the one who keeps running away. you're the one who keeps pushing away this conversation every single time i bring it up." he's raising his voice now, can see how tense his body is from the reflection on the glass window.

"you're asking me to pick up my whole life and move to seoul with you. this isn't some silly request like asking me to pick where to eat for dinner, it's my whole fucking life, chris!" you raise yours in response, taking a step closer to him.

"that's what i did for you! i dont understand it, y/n. i moved to chicago. for you. picked up my whole fucking life and moved because i loved you. so why can't you fucking do that for me? this is my work, y/n." he takes a step, towering over you.

"no, don't twist it like that. we made plans, chan. we talked about it for months. it wasn't some spontaneous decision. we both wanted this-"

"well maybe i dont want this anymore."

oh.

...

"you don't mean that."

...

"channie? please. you don't mean that." your voice is breaks, shaky as you step away from him, clutching at your chest.

he can feel guilt eat at his stomach as he watches you, whole body shaking as sobs rack through your frame. he needs to apologize, he knows it. but you've hurt him too.

"i just... i need a break, y/n."

you sink into the couch behind you, shaking your head when chan hesitantly approaches you, kneeling on the floor in front of you. he places a hand on your knee, and his chest tightens when you flinch away from him.

"love-"

"don't." you spit the word out, refusing to even look at him.

"love, please-"

"a break's what you want? you fucking have it. tell changbin to expect you." you push his arm away when he makes a move to reach for you. you unfurl yourself from the couch, stepping aside from the man who holds your heart, ignoring his calls of your name as you walk into your shared bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you.

sleep comes quickly when you cry yourself to sleep, curled into a ball in your bed, heart empty as the overwhelming scent of chan sticks to his pillows. you faintly hear the soft click of the front door, and then complete silence.

it's hard to remember how you fell asleep, almost as if there was a smooth transition from sobbing heavily into your pillow and breathing into a deep sleep. your head is pounding when your eyes open, puffy and sore from your tears. your throat is dry, stomach aching, and heart heavy.

there's a chance chan will never sleep beside you again.

you push aside the bitter feeling, letting out a painful groan when you stretch your limbs, swinging your feet off your bed. the floor is cold, and you have to tiptoe to the bathroom to freshen up.

you look as horrible as you feel. you try not to spend too much time looking at yourself.

the thought of spending your whole day alone in your big apartment makes you uneasy, part of you wishing you could stay cooped up in your room forever. but you know deep down that's not what's truly bothering you, not when the uncertainty eats at you from the inside.

how is he?

is he thinking about you?

why hasn't he messaged you?

...... is it really the end?

you walk to the door, taking a deep breath as tears brim just below your waterline, promising to be productive today, and not to wallow in self pity all day. your scream leaves you before you can register what exactly is sitting by front of your door, large frame leaning against the door toppling over in his sleep.

"what the hell!" you scream, heart suddenly beating too fast at your liking as you finally take the scene in.

"baby?" chan's voice is croaky, as if his throat had been scratched raw. he's still wearing the clothes from last night, shoulder leaning against the doorframe before you swung the door open, causing him to lose balance.

"what the fuck are you doing here?" you sigh, guilt tugging at your heart when chan stands up, groaning and rubbing at his back.

"i- i didn't...."

you stare at him in silence, unable to control the way your brows furrow in anger. he stares back at you, lips suddenly going dry when he sees the way that you look at him, as if he was a bother.

"i thought you went to bin's." you push past him, heading straight to the kitchen as if you had no worry in the world, pretending to busy yourself with dishes despite there not being a single dish in the sink.

"i..... i couldn't leave you." his voice cracks as he takes another step toward you. you turn your back to him, denying him of your attention as you pretend to busy yourself with breakfast, pulling open drawers and taking out pots.

"wow. that's rich." your voice is laced with pure venom when you bite back, sinking deep into chan's heart as he shuffles awkwardly to stand by the kitchen counter.

"you locked the door."

you only hum in response.

"i.... i tried to go in, thought i'd apologize to you but.... it was locked."

"yea. you don't really expect anyone to go in your room when you're on a break."

the silence is heavy on your shoulders, but you know if you say any more the tears will start pouring. you're too mad at chan to break down in front of him, pride and ego wrestling as you maintain your unbothered facade, working your way around him as if his presence meant nothing to you.

"i turned down the job offer last night."

you drop the spatula you were holding in your hand, letting it clank against the metal pot.

"you what?" you finally turn to face him, disbelief etched onto your face.

you finally soften when you see chris mere feet away from you, eyes red and puffy a sign that he had been crying too. his hair is a mess, and his clothes from last night look rumpled, as if he had been restless all night.

"i- you have to know, my love. i will always choose you, nothing else. i was stupid and-"

"christopher, i never said no." you feel irritation rise in you again, but you take another step closer to your lover. "i never said i didnt want to go. i needed time to think, chris. time. to process. and now you've turned down your dream job and i-"

"i know, i know." chris reaches out to you, letting out what you think is a breath of relief when you dont push him away as he wraps his fingers around your wrists. "but i.... this job, it's going to be demanding and i'm constantly going to have to move and.... look, chicago is your home." he raises a hand to cup your face, wiping away the stray tear that had slipped down your cheek.

"and seoul is yours." you argue back.

"no, you are."

you let out a sob at that, allowing yourself to fully melt into chan's warm embrace. he immediately scoops you into his arms, pressing your face into his chest as he kisses the top of your head repeatedly, patting your hair down.

"it doesnt matter what im doing or where i am, as long as you're there." chan starts to choke up, pulling your face away to properly look you in the eyes. "i dont know what the future holds for me, love. all i know is that i want you by my side. in ten, twenty, thirty years." he plants soft kisses all over your face as you sniffle.

"but i- i feel so bad. i dont want to stop you from doing what you want." you groan, but chan simply giggles lovingly at you.

"i dont want you to think that, i dont even think that. its just a job, y/n. its not even a job i really want. it pays well yea, but it's not something id drop everything for. especially not you." he wipes away the tears that are still falling, cooing at you when you hiccup.

"i love you, chan. i'm so sorry." you sob, pushing your face into his shirt.

"don't apologize. i should be the one saying sorry. i was such a dick last night, i-" he sighs, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. "you know i dont mean what i say, right?"

god he hopes you say yes, he prays to any god, even those he doesnt believe in that you know he never means those things. he doesnt think theres anything worse than the possibility that you could actually think he doesnt want you or a life with you.

"i- i know. but... still hurts when you say it." you sniif, wiping away your tears with the back of your hand.

chan pulls away to look down at you. "i know, my love. im sorry. i'll work on that, i promise. can't stand it when you're sad. i hate knowing im the one who hurts you." he leans down to kiss you, the salty taste of your tears making his chest hurt.

"let me love on you, yea? let me take care of you baby, please."

you nod, jumping up when chan taps at your thighs. he catches you, wrapping his hands around your thighs as he carries you to your bedroom. "need to feel you," you sigh when chan gently places you on the bed.

he stands in between your spread legs, quickly throwing off his hoodie and letting it fall to the floor, leaving him half naked. he leans down to hover over you, lips instantly finding yours in a messy, heated kiss. his hands find their way under your shirt, tips of his fingers grazing your underboob.

"wanna fuck you in my shirt." chan hums against your cheek, squeezing your sides when you squirm against him.

"wanna feel your skin on mine though, please baby?" you beg, holding onto chan's shoulders as he kisses down your chest. he hums in agreement, rolling his shirt off so it sits on top of your breast.

"i'll give you whatever you want, baby. just ask me. promise i'll give it to you, i'll take care of you." he presses soft kisses across your stomach and chest all the while, only pulling away to lift the fabric off you. chan eyes you hungrily, only dressed in your underwear.

"you're the most beautiful girl ive ever seen, my love. so perfect for me." he sighs, fingers tangling in your hair as he kisses you deeply.

"want your pants off, need to feel all of you." you whine, fingers already flying to undo his pants.

"such a good girl, using your voice. you know id do anything you asked." he hums, kicking everything off until he lays bare against you, cock already hard as it rubs against your thigh.

"enough with the teasing, channie. need you in me."

"there's no rush, baby." chan hums, fingers dipping down to see how wet you are, surprised to find you already soaking.

"huh. guess she was crying for me too, hmm?"

you lightly slap at his shoulder, fighting the scolding smile that threatens to paint your face. "just put it in already, please."

"hmm. since you asked so nicely." he kisses your cheek, lips still against your skin as he pushes in you, holding your legs as par apart as he can. your breath catches in your throat at the feeling of him stretching you, fingers digging onto his broad back as he settles deep within you.

"feel good?" he asks, pillowy lips trailing across your face.

"so deep- love you, channie." you babble, and chan can't help but giggle. he presses his bare chest against yours, feeling satisfied when every inch of his skin is met with your own. his hands find yours, interlocking them before he dips down to kiss you on the lips.

"lets go slow, kay baby? need to feel all of you. every inch." he coos, hips slowly pulling back before he sinks back in, keeping the same torturously slow pace.

you whin when it starts to get too much and yet not enough at the same time, heels digging into his lower back to push him in quicker everytime he pulls out. "please, channie. need it faster."

"greedy," chan tuts, rubbing his nose against your jawline. "but, what my love wants, she gets."

his pace starts to pick up, lewd sounds of skin against skin filling up the room aside from the occassional moan you let out. chan grunts against your ear, letting out deep sighs and high pitched whimpers everytime you clench around him or reach up to kiss at his neck.

"m close," you whine, throwing yoru arm around your lover's neck to pull him closer. he easily complies, keeping the same rhythm as you press yourself against him.

"wanna feel you cum, baby. wanna feel that pretty pussy clench around me." he groans, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight circles on the bud.

you let out a silent scream when you cum, legs shaking against chan's waist as he fucks you through your high, letting out a breathy whimper when he feels how tight you've become.

"fuck! love you so much, channie." you sob.

that's what pushes him over the edge, shooting his load deep inside you as his hips stutter, groaning lowly with every thrust. he buries his face into the crook of your neck as you hold him, back sweaty from all the movement.

your breathing seems to sync as you both calm down, chan's hands rubbing up and down your sides as yours curl into his hair, holding him snuggly against you.

"i love you more than anything, y/n." chan suddenly breathes against your neck. he pulls away to look at you, and your breath catches in your throat when you see his eyes are brimming with tears.

"channie?" you pout, gently carressing his cheeks with your thumb. he leans into your touch, quickly kissing the palm of your hand before he nuzzles into it.

"don't wanna lose you. hurts so fucking much just thinking about it."

you're caught off guard by his sudden vulnerability, but you coo at him all the same. "you won't lose me, baby. we'll get through everything." you promise, heart squeezing when his tears start to fall.

"almost did. hate myself so much for hurting you." he sniffs, quickly wiping away his tears.

"baby, listen to me, okay?" you sigh. you try to sit up to look at him better, but chan whines, resting his head in between your chest and tightening his hold around your body. you giggle at him, hands quickly finding its way to his hair as you play with it. "you won't lose me. we just gotta... talk through everything, okay?"

"but i hurt you.... i dont think when i get mad. say things i dont mean."

"and you said you'd work on it. i trust you." he lifts his head up so he looks up at you, chin resting on your stomach.

"i love you. i hope you believe me when i say that. honestly, i dont think those three words can even begin to describe how i feel for you." he sighs, pinching at your side.

you giggle at him, thinking back to how he called you his home.

you push away the curls that cover his eyes, smiling down sweetly at him. "i know what you feel for me channie." you reassure him, pulling him up by the shoulders so he hovers directly above you.

"'s exactly what i feel for you, my beautiful boy." you coo, pulling him down for a kiss.

taglist: @abcdefgiwsmcty@n034sy@148-seungmin

#seung mong!#skz smut #skz #skz fanfic #stray kids #bang chan #bangchan x reader #bangchan fluff #bangchan angst #bangchan smut #chan smut #chan x yn #chan fluff #chan angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #i need a chan honestly #he loves yn your honor!#youre my home trope is one of the best like what the hellll

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barbiecrocs · 1 year

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Serial.

Michael Myers

tags- fem!reader, horror, soft gore, breaking and entering, size difference if you squint, rough sex, blood, piv, monster fucking (just bc this man is monstrous), dumbification, hair pulling, 90s ig, the mask stays on during sex. WC. 3861

Barbie's note... can't believe I used to be on my knees for this man. Like I used to be in the trenches frfr but if yall like him enjoy. after all I did write it to be read. I might go back into hibernation btw.

The storm that brought your birthday party to an early end sends most of your friends home for the night. The bipolar winds knock leftover party cups and plates into the pool. The storm seems to be having a party of its own in your backyard. It practically plucks your backyard apart bit by bit. You raise your hands to your temples and rub them in stress. The only thing you could do was sit on the sidelines and watch.

"Sigh, the sound of rain is so therapeutic…Too bad the storm is destroying your backyard. This is not a pretty sight." You hear an oncoming voice say.

"Kate, you shouldn't be so relaxed. You have no ride home now. You should've gone home with your sister and the others. It's raining cats and dogs now." You complain and look over to Kate, noticing her outfit. "Did you get that from my closet? You took my whole ‘My Melody’ set! Even the slippers! I only have one set! The rest are just shirts! I was going to wear that after my shower!" Your eyebrows furrow in distaste for her stealing one of your favorite pajama sets. She could've at least asked right? Man, you really have to kick her out. You roll your eyes.

"Jeez, take a chill pill, don't get your panties in a twist. I wanted to leave, but I guess I took too long to take a shower and get changed out of my swimsuit, so they left without me. She told me that she was going to come back after dropping everyone else off." She starts to tap on the glass with her acrylic nails as her eyes flicker back and forth between you and the glass. "That doesn’t make any sense, she’d just be wasting more gas and my time.” You roll your eyes. “Jeez, no need to be in such a time crunch, your bed isn’t going anywhere, anywhere far at least,” Kate says. ‘Ugh! So insensitive at all times.’ You think. “You know Kate, I had other things planned tonight!" You huff.

"Ooh? What did you have planned that was so important? It’s almost midnight-. Oh. OOOH? Is it what I think it is? Were you and Miles going to fuck? Is that why you’ve been hanging by your phone so much?” She says, continuously poking your arm. Your cheeks run hot as she continues to press you with flustering questions. “Maybe that’s why you’ve had such a stick up your ass because you’ve been waiting for him to stick something up there. Are you keeping it ready for him huh? It’ll slip in nice and easy-.” “KATE!” You interrupt, practically steaming with embarrassment and shyness. “What?” She snickers. “Did I hit the bullseye?” “Just… Just shut up!” You stomp. “Fine. Fine. You wanna take another dip in the pool to cool down? Or perhaps the rain, does that sound like fun? Becoming one with the rain. It sounds lovely, an absolute dream." She smirks, unlocking the backdoor.

"No, no it doesn't sound like a dream. It's a hot summer night turned lukewarm and I bet the rain is uncomfortably warm too-" "Come on!" She interrupts, yanking you outside so hard that you topple over, good thing you were still in your swimsuit. Can’t say the same for Kate though.

She starts to skip around the pool playfully as if the rain was nonexistent. "Kate, ugh! You little shit, you're lucky I'm still wearing my bathing suit! Plus, you're getting my clothes wet! What was even the point of taking a shower if you were going to go back outside? Sigh You know what? You should stay outside and really be one with the rain. Have fun!" You shut the door as she runs over, slipping on the wet pavement.

"Hey! Don’t leave me out here! Come on, it was just an impulsive decision. I was just having fun since the party was ruined! Loosen up a bit!" She yells, muffled through the thick glass of the backdoor. You put your fingers in your ears and pretend like you can’t hear her. She’ll be fine, the rain was warm, plus there’s a patio set with a waterproof hood so she doesn’t have to stay in the rain.

'Great, now I have a mixture of chlorine and rainwater on me.' As you walk inside the house you notice that you left the TV on and overhear it from your open kitchen.

*T.V static* "Emergency news coming to you live from Los Angeles, California. The news channel where we relay urgent news in under five minutes!" Reporter Nancy says while thrusting her hand in the air to represent the number five. "Nancy, stop, this is serious news. We are here to relay information about a serial killer sneaking into backyards and killing residents living there. Numerous calls were made to the emergency hotline, 911, saying that there was someone in their house or giving us details on what the deranged man looked like. He stands somewhere around 6'7 and wears a dark blue jumpsuit. He wears a mask that hollows his eyes and he has brown hair-"

The TV suddenly cuts off as if it was unplugged, yet everything looks in check. It wasn't unplugged, the TV isn't smoking like it's broken, the power is fine, and it's not like you turned it off manually or remotely.

'Wow, it's the first time I actually sit down to watch the news and the TV decides to cut off.' You think.

You bang on the TV in hopes that it'll cut back on, but no luck. "Ugh, old ass T.V.! I told mama that she should've gotten a new one! This shit is so outdated. We have had this since I was ten! That's a decade!" You pout.

You look out the glass backdoor and see Kate, happy as ever, texting someone on a huge duck floatie in the pool with little to no rain outside now. Like what the hell? It was just raining. You unlock the sliding door and call out to her. "Hey, Kate. You should come inside now. It would be a hassle for your sister to drive back over here. You should spend the night." You say, cursing yourself for your generosity. "Really? Now you want me to come in? I'm good. There's no need to be so concerned. We're on private property. No one else can enter without permission, that's illegal. Plus, the rain is warm just like you predicted. She should be fine while driving, seriously. I'll just wait until my sister picks me up. You act like I'm ten years old. I don't need supervision." She rolls her eyes.

You return the same energy with an eye roll. "So naive, your funeral… Just know that I will be locking the door." You mumble and pull in the curtains. If she doesn't care about her safety then neither will you. Your objective was to take a shower, not look after her anyway.

In the middle of your shower, you hear the house phone ring. You let it ring for a while before realizing that Kate can’t answer the phone for you. With a long sigh, you rinse off, grab a towel, and head to your room, wanting to put some clothes on before going downstairs. You throw on a Kuromi pajama shirt paired with loose black shorts and head downstairs.

'Was Kate expecting a call? Maybe it’s Kate’s sister and she’s here to pick her up. Maybe it’s Miles? We were supposed to fuck for my birthday tonight.’ You skip down the stairs, hoping that it was the second option, and pick up the cream-colored phone just to hear heavy breathing on the other side. 'What the hell?' You think.

As you're about to hang up your movement is forcefully put to a stop. You feel your heart sink as a painful throb begins to travel up your arm, making you drop the phone on the table. You fully tune into this sound as if nothing else around you matters. It’s so loud in your head even though the phone is no longer in your ears. Every nerve inside your body is tense and telling you to hang up, but the breathing is so captivating, trance-like if you will. Listening to the sweet sound as if it was someone humming your favorite tune or singing a soft lullaby. It's so alluring, arousing almost. It mentally sucks you in and the noise alone brings a physical warmth to your skin, supplying false comfort like a hug. It takes away the pain in your arm just as fast as it gave it. As you listen for longer you start to notice the raspiness in the voice. This wasn't like a white noise machine or a random audio on loop. There was someone behind it. In and out, in and out, in and…

Suddenly, you hear Kate scream bloody murder and you snap out of your trance, unplugging the phone and rushing toward the back door. Yanking the curtains open and analyzing the pool from inside, the scene that is held in your eyes is mortifying.

Kate lays there on her back, lifeless in a puddle of her blood on the rubber duck floatie. Her hair is a mess and you can see signs of a struggle on her body. The stressed clothing, choke marks, and some of her fake nails are broken off, leaving her fingernails bloody. Her phone is no longer in her hand, but slowly sinking to the bottom of the pool. Heh, it looks like it still works, the screen is on. Blood flows out of the stab wounds on her throat and chest as the light rain continuously tries to wash them away.

Your eyes frantically scan the pool area for the culprit. And somewhere in the darkness that is the other side of the pool, you see a tall figure step forward, making you jump back from the glass.

A man in a dark blue bloodied jumpsuit, standing around 6'6 - 6'7, wearing a mask with brown hair. Just seeing this man triggers something in you, as you've unlocked a memory. Have you seen him before? No way, that can't be possible, there's no way that you've seen him and not run away screaming. Then it finally clicks. He was the murderer that was described on TV. He fits the description perfectly. The mask, hair, height, the only thing the description was missing was the blood.

Goosebumps tatted your skin as you begin to panic. You hold still in hopes that he has bad eyesight or somehow can't see you through the clear glass door, as if that's possible. He remains completely still and at some point, you wonder if he really can't see you. Maybe the mask messes with his vision?

Suddenly, he starts to make his way around the pool and so you run into the living room to dig in the couch cushions for your mom's pistol that she keeps for "unexpected guests".

You hurriedly load the gun and speed back to your place, tripping over a bunched-up rug. You tip back and fall flat on your butt and point the gun in his direction, waiting for him to round the corner. Your hands are shaking from adrenaline and your nerves are high. At this point, you're hyper-aware of everything happening to you. Blood is coursing through your body from head to toe because of this intense situation and yet… you feel a second heartbeat, this one wasn't in your chest, it was between your legs. Why was your body doing this?

Was this turning you on? You feel obloquy and disappointment fill your heart as you think about such taboo and shameful things. Many thoughts swarm your mind, but everything is put on hold as he rounds the corner.

He stands in front of you, only the glass door standing between you both, but it isn't long before he busts through it. Glass comes shooting your way and you shut your eyes and cover your face in defense, not realizing that you dropped the gun. You were too late to protect yourself properly and tiny shards of glass grazed your skin. Some cuts are a little deeper than others, but the overall damage was minimal. Luckily, due to the adrenaline, you couldn't feel the pain.

You open your eyes when you realize that the gun is no longer in your hand. You look around on the floor until you notice unfamiliar shoes planted right in front of you and snap your head up just to see his dark, hollow, eyes staring at you.

In a panicked rush, you continue to search for the gun you dropped, trying to keep your eyes on him. Patting the area down like a dumbass, you still couldn't find it. Only for a split second you look away and grab it, but a large hand roughly grabs you by the neck and the other snatches the gun away, throwing it somewhere towards the stairs. Your hands' fling onto the hand choking you, attempting to tear him off of you. No avail, his grip was firm and you were slowly, but surely losing air.

He lifted you with ease and put your back to the other glass door that wasn't broken. Trying to cause as much of a hassle as you can, you thrash around, kicking and punching, but it wasn't doing anything to his firm body. 'What is this guy made of?'.

You start to feel hot tears prickle in your eyes and your face feels like someone is sticking pins and needles in it. Heat piles in your chest and your heart starts to beat slower and slower. After what seems like a lifetime of flopping around, you finally land a good kick to his stomach. His grip softens on your neck and you loudly gasp for air, coughing up a storm as spit lulls out your mouth and down your chin.

All too quickly, he grabs your legs and wraps them around his hips to stop you, putting you both in a rather intimate position. With you being pinned to the glass, you stop resisting and catch your breath.

As you calm down, you notice just how close he is, how you can practically feel his heart beating through his chest, how his leg is tucked snuggly between your thighs, and all of a sudden your feet can’t touch the floor. The mood between you two was shifting from panicked to steamy. You felt ashamed of yourself for thinking in such a way. You could die right now, but all you could think about was how big and warm his hands were around your neck. You could no longer find it in yourself to even look in his direction. But your surroundings are all too familiar, nothing else besides him can keep your attention.

His grip tightens on your thighs as he leans into you. With closing distance, the more you can feel his clothed length slowly push against your thin shorts, twitching and aching to be sheathed in your now soaking, cunt. You wrap your arms around his neck and shut your eyes as you wait for him to plant a kiss on your lips. Instead, you feel surprisingly warm kisses along your jawline to your neck. His lips find your sweet spot, making you jolt in pleasure. As he starts attacking your neck with hickeys and bites. You feel a cold hand travel from one of your thighs to the hem of your shirt. He tugs on the fabric, signaling that he wants it off. “Go ahead.” You say, layering your hand on his as he slips your shirt off. Squeezing one of your boobs with the other hand.

Your naked back forcefully pushes up against the cold glass and it isn’t long before a cold shiver rushes up your spine, making your back arch fiercely. “Ah, c-cold!” You hiss. He looks around and spots a comfy couch in the living room, covered in fuzzy throw-over blankets that were used for cold movie nights. He throws you over his shoulder and then plops you onto the couch, his hands immediately moving around your waist and snaking up to your chest. He takes a second to admire the naked flesh in his hands, kneading and kissing it. He’s never felt something so soft and smooth in his life. Considering that his life was a very hard one, this felt like heaven on Earth.

You wrap your legs around his waist and pull it closer to your clothed entrance. His fingers loop around your panties and drag them down, swiftly. A string of shlick leading from your pussy to the wet spot on your panties. He brings the panties up to his nose and sniffs them, making your cheeks run hot with a blush. “Perv!” You beat at his chest.

He takes off his jumpsuit as he stares down at you. Broad shoulders, muscular chest, dark eyes, and abs sculpted by the gods intimidating and turning you on simultaneously. He continues undressing and pulls his boxers a little bit lower than his thighs. Your eyes almost pop out of your skull from how big his dick is. Yet it fits in his hand perfectly.

He gives it a few long strokes before lining himself up at your entrance, raising your hips to level with his tip. “W-wait. I don't think it’ll fit.” You whimper, trying to close your legs, but are blocked by his waist. He stands still for a second, thinking about what to say. Instead, he shrugs his shoulders considering that he doesn’t talk much. He prods his tip at your entrance and slowly sheths himself mostly inside you, letting out a deep guttural groan. Your arms subconsciously try to claw at his back, but can’t wrap around it, clawing on his shoulders at best. “FUCK!” You scream, tears prickling in the corners of your eyes. “You’re too big.”

You lay on your back, trying not to move an inch, scared that he might rip you in half just from it being inside you. He puts a calloused hand on your cheek and wipes your tears, trying to soothe you the best he can without words. Your grip on his shoulders tighten when you feel him push in more. “Wait!” You weakly move a hand to his chest. “Stay still for a moment. It stings so bad.” You throw your head back onto the armrest of the couch as you bite your lip in pain, almost drawing blood.

After what seems like an eternity the pain is finally gone and now you can enjoy the dicking that you were supposed to get from Miles. You wonder what happened to him. Maybe he canceled without telling you. ‘Ugh, dickhead! Ghosting me on my birthday?’ You brush off that thought and tell him you’re fine now. He pulls out halfway and slowly thrusts back in, making you feel every inch of him. Your whole body quivers from how deep he was inside you, plunging farther than your fingers ever could. “Oh fuck!” You claw. He starts to pick up the pace, with each thrust fucking you further into dumbification.

You practically scream when he starts pounding your g-spot, making you breathless. “So good!!~” You hiccup, trying to focus on not being fucked dumb. So much that you didn't realize him switching positions.

Suddenly, your stomach is pressed against the back of your brown corduroy sofa as your knees dig into the pillows and cushions beneath you. He stands tall, towering over you from the back with one hand tangled in your hair. His free hand returns to one of your hips and he pulls them closer to his length, lining himself up again. He wastes not even a second going slow this time. He thrusts into you, immediately finding your G-spot and pounding it. The position does wonders for you as his balls repeatedly smack against your clit, making your back arch immensely. That’s it. That was your last straw before turning dumb. Your nails dig into the couch and your tongue hangs out your mouth, trickling drool. He lets out a deep groan when he feels your walls squeeze around his dick and suck him in, signaling that you were close to cumming.

A familiar heat starts to spread over your body and it isn’t long before your walls go from squeezing to trembling. “Fuck, Fuck FUCK!!” You thought you screamed, but to him, it just seemed like fucked out babbling. Your pussy gushes around him, triggering his orgasm. He fucks both of you through it, almost to the point of overstimulation. He finally pulls out, allowing all the cum and shlick to ooze out of you. Both of you watch as it drips onto the blanket below you, making you giggle. “Heh, oopsie.” You babble, still fucked out.

Your tiredness catches up with you and you fall limp on the couch, rocking in and out of consciousness. He picks you up and searches the house for a bathroom. He starts to run the water and steps out for a minute. The sound of running water and a loud thud from the living room snaps you out of your unconscious state. ‘W-what the fuck?’ You stand up on wobbly legs and head out of the bathroom, finding out that he put you in the downstairs one. You feel a cold gust of wind and look towards the front door. It’s open with the man that was just balls deep inside of you standing hunched over. You have a bit of trouble walking over to him, but eventually, you make it. You try to find an opening to see what he was looking at since he’s too tall to look over.

You fall on your butt in horror when you realize that it’s Miles, dead and the fully clothed mysterious man was dragging him away. A puddle of dried blood on your porch gives away that he was dead for a while.

“What. The. FUCK!” You had such a nice time with this man that you forgot he was a murderer. For heaven's sake, he killed your best friend Kate. “Who are you?” So many questions run through your head at the same time. ‘Why did he kill Miles? When did he have time to kill Miles? Why didn’t he kill you too? How does he know about you?’ He throws Miles over his shoulder and turns back to you. It looks like he’s going to raise a hand at you, instead, he reaches into his jumpsuit and pulls out a gold name tag with the name ‘Micheal’ on it. He throws it into your lap and disappears into the darkness of the night. “What…What the fuck?”

#horror #michael myers #Michael myers x reader #myers #myers x reader #slasher #slasher x reader #slasher fic #fem reader #soft gore #smut #lemon #slasher smut

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yuzukult · 2 years

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yours, but not yours 03 (m) || csc & reader

title: yours, but not yours 03 pairing: choi seungcheol x fem!reader/oc genre: angst, fluff, smut, fake dating!au, bad influence!seungcheol, nice guy syndrome!namjoon, mechanic!seungcheol wc: 7.4k summary: when a nice guy gets too overbearing, you’re stuck with the option of having a fake boyfriend. warnings: oral sex (f.receiving) a/n: omg sorry for the delay... i’ve been in a really bad writing slump LOL if there’s some errors... ignore them. the fact i even finish this deserves a pat on the back LMFAO also thx @/cheolbooluvr ig for beta reading

Seungcheol stumbles back, wiping the red that formulates on the side of his lips. “Did you just fucking punch me?”

If there’s anyone he hated the most, Namjoon just kicked them off the top of the list and claimed the throne as his own. The fire that sets ablaze underneath Seungcheol’s skin is evident—the milky skin of his is flushed tints of scarlet, deep as wine and grows warm like the scorching sun.

Namjoon smirks, head tilted back with his chin up high like this is his territory and Seungcheol is a trespasser. It makes Seungcheol feel like he’s in one of those movies on National Geographic—he’s acting as if he’s a lion and you’re the lioness, while Seungcheol is just some opponent who wants what Namjoon has. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest, sucking in his cheeks for a brief moment before letting out the most brazen chuckle. He thinks he’s won, that smug look on his face giving it away. “Do you need a playback? I’ll do it again.”

In complete disbelief, Seungcheol scoffs. It takes all within him not to bash Namjoon’s face in but with you standing there, he can’t bring himself to show this crude side of himself in front of you. You don’t deserve to see him tear Namjoon to shreds—you deserve so much better than a guy who gets into fights instead of handling it civilly. He wants to be that, the kind of person you want, but when Namjoon takes the silence as a ‘yes,’ he’s prepared for another swing with a fist by his side.

“Alright, that’s enough,” you chime in sternly, ready to interject but Namjoon is already pulling his arm back and driving a punch into Seungcheol’s jaw with all his might, awaiting that pleasant sound of his bones cracking from the impact.

Only that it doesn’t.

Seungcheol has his arm extended, palm out and against Namjoon’s knuckles as he continues to dab the blood from the cut. It’s almost like it’s from a scene of a film, out on the schoolyard with rivals from different schools ready to rumble. “Chill the fuck out. You don’t gotta go home but you can’t stay here. I’m not gonna hit you, if that’s what you think is gonna happen because I don’t waste my energy on guys like you.”

The silence is deafening—Seungcheol could almost hear the ringing in his ears from it. Namjoon doesn’t aim very well, but the strength behind his fist is strong enough for Seungcheol to suspect a sore jaw tomorrow. They can’t pull their threatening stares from each other, flames burning in their eyes, with teeths clenched down in semblance to the balled hands at their sides.

You’re quick to shatter the glass of quietude, caring nothing more than to end this. You see why cigarettes tempt Seungcheol—suddenly your lungs are craving that breath of relief. “Go home.”

“You heard her,” Namjoon sneers. “She said go home. Guess you weren’t being a good boyfriend, huh.”

“I meant you.”

The two men turn to look at you.

“Namjoon, go home,” you reiterate, never stuttering over your words. “You don’t get to come here, to my house and punch someone in the face because you’re unhappy with something. You don’t get to act like a child, throwing a tantrum because you didn’t get the trophy girl and quite frankly, I’m not one. You’ve never once given me a decision tonight, thinking that it was better to come in place for Yubin, and none of this was discussed with me. When did you get to dictate my life?”

Namjoon drops his arm from Seungcheol, attention pivoting to you. “We had fun tonight, babe. I’m just doing what’s best for you,” he says, his favorite, signature line never fails to spill when it comes to you. Namjoon has developed this image of you that’s incapable of determining who would be the right fit for you because you ‘don’t know what you deserve.’ But it feels like every guy you choose doesn’t fit his criteria. “I want you to be with a guy that gives you it all, who takes care of you, who loves you, and gives what you truly deserve.”

“And what? You think that Seungcheol can’t offer that to me?” Inhaling in a deep breath, your lids squeeze shut. He’s your best friend’s brother, and although the trope is a cliche that you love, you didn’t love it in this scenario or when it involves yourself. “Namjoon,” you begin again; when your eyes lock on his, he sees the solemnity saturated in them. “It’s great that you care, but you’re overbearing and stepping over boundaries. Go home.”

It doesn’t take Namjoon long to slam the door with a scowl, driving off with his exhaust puffing smoke in your face.

Rubbing your eyes, you let out a heavy breath that you’ve been holding the entire time. You felt a mixture of embarrassment and anger—from Namjoon making a move on you when you clearly weren’t interested, to him punching Seungcheol in the face—it's hard to even give Namjoon any type of margin of error when his toxic behavior is so awfully constant.

“How you feelin’, pretty?”

Even with his jaw fractured and a hand against his cheek, he still manages to compliment you through his cherry stained lips. “If you’re askin’ bout me, I ain’t feeling so hot.”

“I can see that,” you retort with the roll of your eyes, tugging on his jacket sleeve up the stairs of your home. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

Seungcheol is a simple guy.

He sees you, and immediately his mind goes blank. Seungcheol is like a smittened 12 year old when they see a pretty girl for the first time; his mouth goes dry, all possible words get suctioned off his tongue, and his lips part as if he has something to say but it never comes out. He’s never been really good at expressing his emotions; elaborating clearly how he felt for you was an obstacle he had trouble

So when you point to the dining chair placed in your small kitchen, he obediently does as he’s asked while you scramble to find a first aid kit in your storage closet instead of contesting it. He’s better at actions and gestures than words, so if it meant being like a well-trained puppy for you to understand the lengths of his likeness for you, then so be it.

“So… you and Namjoon…”

“Should I just stop feeling guilty and cut him off?” you interrupt, sighing as you drop the plastic box onto the square table. He notices everything here is kept minimal—two seats at the table, a loveseat couch, only two pairs of slippers for guests, and that was it. There is no intention of more, almost like you purposely don’t want anyone else coming in. “If it’s gotten to the point that he’s punching my fake boyfriend, it’s beyond ridiculous. There’s no boundaries when it comes to him, and it’s unfair that I have to constantly watch everything I do or say just to make sure I don’t upset him.”

“Should just cut ‘em off,” he spits, rotating his jaw. “He’s done nuffin’ but upset you. Stop being concerned ‘bout how he’s feeling and worry ‘bout yourself.”

You roll your eyes, tearing the wrapping of the alcohol wipe as you settle in the chair in front of him. “He’s my best friend’s brother.”

“This isn’t some romantic comedy. Stop naming that stupid trope. Tell Namjoon to quit and put your foot down. You’ve got a boyfriend now, and he’s gotta respect that,” Seungcheol says sternly, puffing his chest as if he’s all riled up.

Letting out a laugh, you shake your head as you wipe off the blood that dries on his wound. With a wince, he grimaces as he leans back. “Stop moving,” you nag before grabbing the ointment in the box. Squeezing a dollop into your finger, you apply it on gingerly as he scrunches up his face in fear of the pain, but it never comes.

Physically, at least.

“If I’m your girlfriend, then why haven’t I met your family yet?” you joke, but Seungcheol tenses up.

Family. The word alone causes his whole body to stiffen and his jaw to tighten. Before he could react, you’re already stumbling atop him as a loud crack is heard, and his first instinct is to pull you onto his lap.

“Oh, fuck—”

“Geez, baby, if you wanted to ride on my dick so bad, you should’ve just said so. No need to break your chair for it.”

Somehow, you find yourself seated on his thigh, arms wrapped around his shoulders, and nose nearly brushing his. You can feel his breath ghosting your lips, the stench of cigarettes permeated in the fabric of his clothes, but you prefer this over Namjoon’s cologne. He smells… heavenly. It’s like you are intoxicated, unable to control your thoughts properly, heart pacing faster than the cars you see on race tracks.

“I…” you gulp. Is he going to kiss you? His lips are so plump, cherry red, and visibly sweet. Unfiltered thoughts spill through your head; you want to taste his honeyed lips on yours, his hands roaming all around you. But you can’t have that. Right? But he’s so fucking close, you swear he’s gonna lean in for a kiss. Eyes hooded, he’s in a daze of you, equally as drunk on your scent. Notes of white jasmine—whatever the fuck that is, but he remembered seeing it on a body shampoo bottle in the bathroom. You smell sweet, with hints of something fruity and floral. He wants to drown in you.

And he manages to slip out the words that nearly have you tumbling.

“Wanna kiss?”

Did your heart just stop beating?

You’re vacuumed from any words—you and Seungcheol don’t work, but why do you want his lips slotted into yours? He doesn’t fit the requirements of what kind of guy you want, the kind of guy you see yourself with–the fact that your first encounter with him resulted being under the sheets with your body against his, there’s no way he’d ever be anything more.

So, why does he make you feel this churning inside the pit of your stomach?

He chuckles, pushing his hair back and away from his face. Leaning back against your chair, he watches as you quickly shuffle off of him and clear your throat as heat floods your cheeks. “I’m just kiddin’. Maybe you should get new chairs, love.”

You sigh; the chair on the floor has its wooden leg split. It should’ve been a sign about a month ago when the creaking first started… and when you continued to hear the crack of the wood with each time your ass made contact with it, but procrastination seemed like the better option in those moments. “I—” you puff your cheeks in annoyance. The damaged furniture is the least of your problems right now. Turning to Seungcheol, you place your hands on your hips. “We need to establish some boundaries.”

With a quirked brow, he scoffs. “Boundaries? You’re the kidder now.”

“I’m just saying,” you begin to pace, huffing. “We can’t—this can’t be more than it is. We’re just two people who had sex once—” Seungcheol clicks his tongue as he crosses his arms while narrowing his eyes on you. “—a couple times, but that’s it. You’re just gonna be my fake boyfriend in front of my friends so they can back off with Namjoon. Capeesh?”

“You know, the fact you gotta lie to your friends sorta means that they ain’t good ones.”

“Well, outside of Namjoon, I like them, alright?”

“I’m just sayin’,” he adds, raising his hands up in defeat. “I’ll do what you want, baby, but you’re ova here tryna set boundaries with me when you should be doin’ that with your friends, too. But I like you, and you’re sexy when you’re serious, so I’ll bite. Gimme your conditions.”

Inhaling sharply, you walk over to the desk beside your bed to shuffle through the drawers for a sheet of paper and a marker. “Okay,” you begin, slamming the computer paper into the table. “This is our terms. Let’s start off with number one. No fucking.”

Seungcheol chuckles, watching as you scribble the words. “We already fucked, baby.”

“Well, anymore. No dilly-dallying. We’re strictly business, Seungcheol.”

“Alright,” he raises his arms in defeat. “Whatever you want, baby. What’s next?”

“No catching feelings—”

“—Can we decide on rules that we haven’t already broken?” He quirks a brow before leaning forward with his elbows propped on his knees. “You know I like you. Very much. Not just in the way to get in your pants, but more. So maybe… pick rules that we haven’t already broken, yeah?”

You puff your cheeks. “Fine. We’re just faking in front of my friends, right? So, I need you to be on your best behavior around them—I want them to believe that we’re real so that they can finally just come to terms that there are other guys that aren’t Namjoon.”

“You know,” he begins, tapping his foot against the wooden floors. “I still want my part of the deal upheld.”

You blink. “I must’ve missed that. What was it?”

“This is a trial,” he reiterates from the time before. “This is you considering me outside of just an acquaintance. A potential boyfriend.”

There’s a moment of silence before you let out an awkward laugh. “Let’s uh… let’s get back to the boundaries… yeah? How about… no fucking, no catching feelings, no sleeping over—”

“—All broken, but go on.”

You shoot a glare at Seungcheol before continuing. “No family involved. No telling people that we aren’t together, and lastly, this is exclusive.”

This intrigues Seungcheol. “Oh, well that’s new. I didn’t think you were the possessive type. Thought you didn’t like me, love.”

“It’s to spare anyone’s feelings,” you state sternly, writing down the rules onto the piece of paper. “I don’t want someone coming up to me later down the line, asking why you led them on when you were with me the entire time.”

“You know,” he begins, crossing his arms against his chest. “I keep telling you the same shit like a scratched up record. I like you, and I want to be with you. There won’t be another girl, so that rule is easy for me. The rest—can’t say that they won’t, though.”

“Seungcheol.”

He grins. “I’m kidding. But you know I’ll try for you, baby.”

Why does Choi Seungcheol do that thing where he makes the insides of your stomach feel sick? Is it because he’s absolutely repulsive?

Or is it because he’s actually swooning you?

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You’re left frozen from how close he is. Seungcheol gently brushes his nose against yours, eyes hooded but irises dark and swirling with lust. He manages to steal the breath from your lungs so effortlessly, the cause of you stuttering over your words, and suddenly unable to be crude and blunt because Seungcheol is intoxicating.

Swallowing, you stumble back a bit. Palms resting against the hood of the bright red Audi in your garage—well now his garage, you’re not even sure how you ended up like this. “Uh, to… to my house.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” he counters, furrowing his brows. “You called me a fuckboy, mocked me, then when I act upon those ‘so-called’ talents, that sharp tongue of yours has nothing left to say?”

You clear your throat. “I’m just… Who cages someone after getting their ass roasted?”

He chuckles; it’s deep and hearty from his chest, head dropped down momentarily before his gaze meets back up with yours. “Wanna see how a fuckboy fucks?”

Mouth parted, now you’re really at a loss for words.

Leaning in, he pecks the side of your mouth with a wink before his hands grab the thickness of your thighs and tugs you lower on the hood of the car. With a yelp, you fall back onto your elbows as Seungcheol slides down in between your legs.

You’re debating if you should be thankful you chose a skirt this morning or wishing you had on jeans instead so you’d at least have the self discipline to push him away.

But when he looks like that, he makes it hard to.

“Just tell me if you don’t want this,” he says reassuringly, fingers playing with the hem of your miniskirt. He likes this color on you—beige is so neutral on other girls, but when you strut in it, you bring light to it. “But if you do, and you’ve got your hand covering your mouth to hold in those pretty moans, I’m gonna have to ask you to let go.”

And with that, he disappears in between your legs.

Seungcheol pulls your hips even closer to his mouth, desperately wishing he could live in your pussy forever. You taste sweet; his favorite treat from now on, and when he hears those melodic moans slip between your swollen lips, it causes the hardness in his jeans to twitch.

“Fuck, baby,” he mutters against your wet folds. “I could do this all day.”

From the last time you fucked, Seungcheol makes it clear: he hates when you pull on his hair. There’s nothing worse than someone tugging on your strands, especially when they have no sense of control and end up hurting your scalp. And despite the fact that he enmitizes it, there’s something about you and when your pretty hands are knotted in his ebony locks.

“Fuck,” he says, and at first, it sounded like it was from pleasure of eating you out.

But when he curses the second time, it sounds more like pain.

“Fuck!”

Your eyes flutter open.

“Fuck!”

Fuck indeed.

You were fucking daydreaming.

Seated on the couch in the corner of the garage, you get the best view of Seungcheol. He’s underneath the hood of your car, working on whatever it was that made that weird sputtering sound yesterday, and definitely not underneath your skirt. Just your car.

“Fuck!” he exclaims again. “Are you just gonna sit there and watch me? I knocked over the rod and your hood fell on my head.”

“Sorry!”

Immediately, you’re at his side, lifting the hood while propping it back up with the metal rod. When Seungcheol finally shuffles out, he stands there, puffing with his chest out. You could already imagine all the thoughts that were running through his head because how did you miss that entire incident? “What the fuck was that? I was calling you for like five minutes—you were totally zoned out.”

You roll your eyes. “It wasn’t five minutes.”

“It wasn’t, but it sure felt like it.”

Valid. He was stuck so it probably felt like an eternity.

As he rubs his head with a grunt, you can’t help but get flustered at where your thoughts drove through. Did you really just whip up an entire scenario where Seungcheol was tongue deep between your folds on some stranger’s car? And why the fuck did it feel so realistic?

This thing between the two of you is supposed to end in a fake relationship. No strings attached—no sex, everything kept a secret, and the end goal was to showcase that yes, there are other guys out there that are better than Namjoon and can be a candidate.

Then again, it was hard to hold off your raging hormones when Seungcheol is just fucking standing there in that tight black tee with the fabric of the sleeves snug around his bicep. He’s not even doing anything and yet somehow he’s got your panties wet. Are you exactly like those other bitches? The answer is yes. And you’re more than just embarrassed by it.

He nods his head. “The fuck you thinking about over there? Lost ya for a second,” he reached over to grab the stained rag to wipe off his calloused hands. “You thinkin’ about me bending you over a car?”

Yes.

You know he’s joking, but it’s 100% true. And you’d be stupid to ever admit to it.

“I—Honestly, I’m not going to waste my breath answering that.”

He chuckles, just as thick and honeyed as in your daydream, except he’s the reality of it. For some reason, with how the sunset hits into the garage, he looks… handsome like this. Hues of orange, red, and yellow makes him glow, causing your heart to stutter in its beats for a brief moment. His lashes are long, brushing against the highs of his cheekbones gingerly, pomegranate lips plump and look like they’d be pillowy if you got to press your own against it and you could imagine they tasted just as sweet as the fruit. The injuries he sustained from Namjoon are almost entirely healed, but it complimented him well. He sort of had that bad boy-esque look going for him; the bruised cheek, scar at the corner of his mouth, the leather jacket, and the motorcycle?

You’re a liar if you said that you didn’t want to hop on his dick one more time.

And for some reason, your heart wanted to jump his too.

“Well, you came all the way here to talk to me and not just hang. What did you need from me?”

Right. You came here to ask for another favor. Why are these thoughts plaguing your once-logical brain? You have a MBA for fucks sake but all it took was good dick to scourge sanity with horniness.

“So,” you begin, rolling your lips. It’s intimidating to request this from him, only because you know how much he has to go out of his comfort zone to do it. “The girls and I were talking…”

Seungcheol raises a brow at you drifting off mid-sentence as you lean against the car as coolly as possible—even though he stifles a laugh at the sight. “Stop beating around the bush.”

“They want a weekend getaway at a log cabin by the lake.”

Confused, he puts down the wrench he picks up moments ago with a clang. “With just… you… or? ‘Cause baby, I know I’m your boyfriend, but you don’t need my permission for that.”

With a groan, you throw your head back. “No, no, I’m indirectly asking you to tag along and… be my boyfriend.”

“For the weekend?”

You sigh. “Yeah.”

“With… your friends and their boyfriends?”

Where was he going with this? “Uh, yeah.”

“Alright, cool. I’m down.”

Truthfully, you should’ve known something was up with how easy it was to convince Seungcheol to go.

He’s got a spare helmet in the space behind him on the bike, patting the leather spot reserved for just you while showcasing that dumb cheeky grin on his face. “Hop on.”

“I’m not riding that.”

“Oh come on, you’ve ridden other dangerous things. Take my dick for example.”

You clench your fists by your side but they mean no threat to him. “I’m not riding your stupid motorcycle, Seungcheol. It’s dangerous! What’s wrong with my car?”

He actually has to cover his mouth because he laughed so hard in disbelief. “Baby, that shit is an actual death trap in comparison to my bike. Plus, I’ve always wanted to drive on the road that leads to the cabin. I heard it’s got the freshest air this place has to offer.”

“Again, I’m not riding your bike, Choi Seungcheol.”

Seungcheol is usually a typical fuckboy. Girls, just girls as a whole, is the easiest way to convince him to do something. These days, even when his friends promise the sluttiest girls at the bar, he doesn’t go. Instead, he finds himself in the garage underneath the apartment, in hopes you’d be bored and come down in your little tank top and cartoon fuzzy pj pants and sit to keep him company. He’s gone soft, he sadly admits, but at the same time he doesn’t mind it.

But Seungcheol is still deep down some type of fuckboy.

And when you cross your arms over your chest, pushing up your tits in that bra he suddenly has marked on his list of things that make him happy, he gets a sneak peak of your cleavage in that tshirt.

He’s technically not a fuckboy anymore because he only sees you.

But getting rid of that side of himself that caves into the sight of tits would be hard. Especially when they’re yours.

He’s already packing up the helmets and parking his bike in the garage while snatching the keys to your shitty Toyota off the hook on the wall.

Candidly speaking, he isn’t entirely sure what to make out of this. He knows that whatever it is between the two of you at the moment is just a facade, despite that fact you know the feelings he harbors, but a part of him is perplexed at how easy it is for him to just… give you what you want. Seungcheol doesn’t do that. He’s not the type of guy who gives in without much of a battle.

Everything with you is a new experience for him.

Even driving in a Toyota, for fucks sake, because he’d be caught dead driving in a piece of junk if his parents found out. Or even staying in some cabin on a weekend “getaway” by a lake, which by the way, he’s not even sure what a trip like that entails either. Do people swim in lakes? And if they do, why would they willingly want to bathe in dirty water?

However, the sight of you, so bright and eager when you spot your friends at the door of the cabin (which is oddly way bigger than he imagined), makes all the discomfort go away. It didn’t matter that mosquitoes were going to bite him fourteen times, that he was never going to get the smell of firewood out of his clothes for the next three months, and that if he agreed to swim in that swampy ass water, he’d probably get sucked in by some monster created from all the shit people dumped into the lake. All because his attendance makes you happy, he doesn’t mind it.

That is, until he spots the expression on your face drop and the culprit standing beside Yubin on the second floor balcony.

Seungcheol nudges your side gently. “Did they tell you he was coming?”

The stoic look gives the answer away before you say it. “No, they didn’t.”

Seungcheol slings the bags over his shoulder, trailing behind you and up the creaky wooden steps while praying he doesn’t fall into the abyss if any of the flooring breaks. He doesn’t complain, you note, but you’ll compliment him on it another time.

Namjoon is here, and he shouldn’t be.

“Okay,” Yubin calls out in the middle of the hallway that you’ve stomped your way to. She has her hand out like it would be some type of Captain America shield but it doesn’t do shit. “I know you’re mad, and you don’t want him here—but he made a hefty deposit for this weekend and we can’t just… uninvite him.”

“You could and I would’ve more than gladly covered it.”

“It’s not about that,” she sighs, running her fingers through her hair. “You know I can’t choose between my best friend and my brother. Can’t you at least be civil about it?”

You scoff, brows furrowing while shaking your head. “Did he even tell you that he punched Seungcheol?”

She licks her lips before sinking her teeth into the flesh. “I—No, he didn’t, but I’m sure he had a good reason.”

“Yubin, you realize what you’re saying, right? He swung at my boyfriend.”

“I know, and I—”

You don’t even let her finish. Turning around, Seungcheol stands there with your bags on his shoulder and his own duffle in hand. Abruptly, you grab onto his wrist and lead him down the stairs as Yubin follows behind. “We’re leaving, Cheol, go start the car.”

“But we just got here—”

“Now,” you demand sternly, and Seungcheol straightens his mouth. He wants to tell you to just enjoy the weekend without interacting with Namjoon, especially with how many people are here, but he respects your decision. It’s Namjoon you were trying to avoid, and the only place Seungcheol won’t try to inject his opinions on. “Get ready.”

Before he could step out, Chaeryong blocks him in. “No,” she looks at him then at you. “No,” she emphasizes a second time as she points her finger in your direction. “We’re not doing this. You’re staying. Don’t make Seungcheol drive the two hours back just because of Namjoon.”

“I don’t wanna fucking talk—”

“Then don’t!” she exclaims; it’s almost like she’s finally releasing the frustrations she’s been holding back. “Fuck that, you have your boyfriend right here, so just have a nice weekend with us and him. Sure, Namjoon will be around, but why’s that matter when Seungcheol is here?”

Although Chaeryong makes a good point, you can’t help but feel the blood in your veins boiling when you see him. He swung a fist at Seungcheol, the only person (despite his potty mouth) who actually seemed to listen and respect both you and your feelings all because Namjoon claims that he knew what was “best” for you?

You close your eyes. Inhaling in a deep breath, you release it slowly before easing your lids open to look at Chaeryong. “Yubin let him come, despite knowing how I feel about him.”

“Well,” Chaeryong begins with a forced smile. “That’s a fucked up best friend. Please stay. It’s my last trip as a single woman.”

You quirk a brow. “You’re engaged, Chae.”

“I know,” she jokes, nudging you. “But I don’t know what life will be like after I get married. People change, things change. And I want at least one perfect weekend with the people I’m closest with.”

It wasn’t just her words that sway you, but the look in her eyes. How those chocolate irises are filled with pleas, the fronts of her brows curling up as she says that key word one last time. “Please?”

It’s gonna be a fucking long two days.

Yubin can feel the tension; she knows you’re upset, but what grinds your gears is that she can’t even be bothered to try resolving any of this. She doesn’t seem to understand how you feel, and how her actions only caused a strain in your friendship.

Was she even your best friend?

And what’s worse is that you were so angry, you almost missed all the things Seungcheol was doing that was definitely not something he’s used to.

For one, he mans the grill. He rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, exposing his flexed forearms with his veins popping, you almost lose your train of thought because of him. Truthfully, you’re not even sure if he knows how to cook anything other than a bowl of ramen, and you’re confident he only learned that just to get into a girl’s pants.

Eventually, you realize he’s not that good at it when he drops a perfectly good piece of steak on the ground.

“We should just toss it,” he says, and four of your friends, including yourself, stare at him in astonishment. “What?”

“It’s a $30 piece of steak. We’re just gonna wash it and eat it—how do you just throw away $30 worth of steak?”

Seungcheol shrugs. “It’s… it’s not that much.”

You don’t know Seungcheol that well, but you know parts about him that you’re unsure are worthwhile. For one, he seems to not be able to understand the value of money. He doesn’t talk about his upbringing, but questions begin to flood in your mind on what his childhood was like because how do you think $30 is cheap? Yeah, you knew he had a crush on you and he likes the way you make ramen for him (boil the noodle first, drain the starchy water, add new boiled water with the powder packets in the bag, crack an egg, and add kimchi with two pieces of seaweed), but in actuality, you didn’t know the real Seungcheol. And you sort of want to.

Then again, he isn’t your boyfriend. He’s just someone pretending to be.

But the urge to get to know him is beginning to be hard to swallow. Yet your consciousness remains reliable each time it hits you like a train to bring up one thing you seem to forget when he looks at you in that way: Seungcheol is and always will be a fuckboy.

Maybe staying wasn’t a bad decision after all. When you lean against the railing of the terrace, the breeze flows through your hair coolly and soothes your burning skin temporarily from the summer’s wrath. The sun begins to set in the horizon, the lovely warm shades cast over the cabin’s property—it’s sweet, sort of reminds you of pouring honey in a cup of chrysanthemum tea, the petals infused with the water that boiled in the kettle over a soft fire.

Chaeryong and her fiancé are exactly that.

You spot them a couple miles away, seated on a picnic blanket with Chaeryong’s head on his shoulder as he presses a kiss gingerly on the top of it.

God, when will it be your turn?

You sigh. Chin resting against the palm of your hand, your shoulder drops. Watching them from a distance is just a reminder that you’re single and have been for quite some time. Tinder has been dry—not because your dms don’t get flooded but because you’re exhausted from seeing all those pictures of guys with their shirt in between their teeth while taking a mirror selfie with their abs out on display. Blind dates aren’t fun either. They’re blind for a reason—there’s so many fucking red flags, of course traits are going to be hidden from you. The last time you went on one, the guy claimed to be a surgeon. Turns out, he just loved taxidermy. Just because you know the workings of a knife doesn’t make you a surgeon, Will.

Bars are just for fucking—don’t forget clubs too. Friends of friends just doesn’t sit right—what happens if you break up with them? Wouldn’t that be awkward for the group to hang out again? Not to mention that it feels like the majority of the male population seems to not have a bone in their body with the etiquette and politeness that gentlemen used to have. (Not that you’re looking for an old fashioned man—you just want someone nice and caring).

You’ll continue to find it hard to believe, but speaking of the Devil, Seungcheol approaches from behind and leans up against the railing beside you. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you respond, not even realizing how down you sound. “What’s up?”

He furrows his brows, now concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Seungcheol hisses in annoyance. He reads you like an open book.

“I just—” you grumble midway, rubbing your face with your hand. “Am I ever going to find love, Cheol? Like I’m tired. Worn out. Fatigued. Weary. Drained. Exasperated. Bitter. Indignant—”

“Alright, thesaurus.com. I get it, you’re tired of feeling like you’ll never be loved. But what about me?”

You roll your eyes. “What about you?”

He clicks his tongue. In a moment like this, he yearns for the stick in between his fingers, the head of the cigarette in the corner of his pomegranate pink lips as he drags in a puff to relieve that annoyance you bring to him each time you reject his feelings. He misses the sensation that occurs when he releases the smoke, almost like his filtering the negativity within him while blackening his lungs. It’s a give and take relationship. More than he’ll ever have with you, it seems.

“Baby, how many times do I have to tell you that I like you,” he says irritably, different from the times he’s said it before. “It’s getting exhausting. Tiring. Draining. Fatiguing—”

“Okay, okay,” you wave your hand dismissively at him. “I get it, I’m being a little dramatic.”

“I don’t think you’re being dramatic. But I do think you’re being unreasonable when you think I’m lying when I tell you my feelings.” Oh, how badly he wants a cigarette right now. It’s like talking to the wall when it comes to you.

“Come on, Cheol,” you laugh, turning around to rest your back against the hard metal fence. “You don’t really like me. You like the idea of it—someone who rejects you because they want something more. You don’t get that often and it’s alluring to you.”

His mouth falls agape like a reflex; the apathetic attitude you had toward him when it came to his emotions plagues pain in his chest. It spreads like rapid fire—fist clenching and jaw tensing, it’s almost similar to the rage that heats up inside from when Namjoon’s knuckles aim for his jaw.

But that’s what it was. Just similar.

The fury in him blossoms instead of explodes. With you, he doesn’t feel the urge to be pissed but disappointed felt like a more appropriate term.

Seungcheol scoffs, shaking his head. “I—You know what, I’m done talking to you for tonight. I’m so tired, you know, just trying to tell you straight up that I like you. I don’t know what shit I gotta spit out to make you see that.”

You puff your cheeks. He’s frustrated, you get that, but how do you trust someone who struts around with the label ‘fuckboy’ plastered across his forehead? “You don’t love me, Seungcheol. I think you like the idea—”

“Please, please,” he says in a pleading tone. “Cut that shit out. Tell me, do you wanna hear me tell you that I ‘love’ you before we even get together? That doesn’t go with your ‘love plan,’ does it?”

Heart tightening at his words, guilt suddenly washes over your face. “Cheol—”

“I get that falling in love with me is unconventional—we fucked without even a date, and I’m your fake boyfriend before being your real one. We’re backwards—that’s fine, and I know I’m not necessarily the boy-next-door type of guy, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have potential either,” he huffs, pushing his hair back and away from his forehead before shutting his eyes. “Look, I’m gonna walk away now. You take what I say as you will, but I’m wishing, I’m hoping you’d believe me and listen to me just for once. I don’t feel like talking to you right now, so if you will, I’m gonna just—I don’t fucking know—I’ll go talk to the guys. See you back at the room, yeah?”

Fuck. You know you fucked up.

The fact that Seungcheol chooses to go talk to the men that don’t have anything in common with him (including Namjoon) over standing here with you meant more than it seems. He hates those types of guys—the ones that stand there with polo shirts, patterned shorts and gelled slick back hair with a beer in hand talking about work. They didn’t have hobbies outside of golfing and drinking IPAs, and most of the time, blamed their girlfriends for the instability of their relationships (also you will always side with your girls), never taking into account any of their faults.

Seungcheol wasn’t like those guys—and as funny as it sounds, he wasn’t like the other guys.

Did he really like you? Truly like you and not that kind of stuff where you’d go through all the hurdles to get together only for him to get bored. Did he prefer the thrills of chasing or was he into doing mundane things with you like cleaning around the house or hanging up wet laundry? What about the whole thing with Namjoon? Does he need constant competition in order to value you?

What goes on in Choi Seungcheol’s mind?

You can’t really tell, but if you were realistic with yourself, you’d just ask him straightforwardly and he would do his best to answer. Instead, you choose this route instead—watch him from the porch as he tries to adjust himself in a group of people who weren’t like him and probably asked him questions like: “What stocks have you invested in?” “Does your girl like to ride you frontwards or backwards?” “Did you watch the game last Sunday?” and even the classic, “Have you done anal? With any girl?”

Discomfort is evident each time his face twitches; you could only imagine the topic of conversation at hand, and the subtle glances he makes in your direction only fuels the uneasiness that settles in your stomach. He’d rather be stuck in that than to stand here and listen to you turn down what he confesses every time, claiming he’s lying and nothing more or less.

Then that’s when you spot Namjoon tug Seungcheol to the side.

Namjoon seems calm, despite the furrow in Seungcheol’s brow that makes it wrinkle in the spot between in a way you found so cute, but the volume of the words that come out their mouths remain low. You can’t hear anything they say nor decipher the motions of their lips, only their gestures toward each other. Quite frankly, it was the opposite of their previous exchanges. Cool, still slightly agitated, but remaining chill enough that a fight wouldn’t break out.

Even after a refreshing shower, underneath the covers with your back resting against the frame of the bed, that feeling in your gut doesn’t go away.

He hasn’t been back to the room yet. Ever since he came back for a bit to grab a couple of his belongings for a shower, you grow concerned and wonder if he’s going to stay here with you. Was he that mad? Did Namjoon say something? Was it worth bringing up the conversation again? Did he decide to sleep in the living room instead of in this room with you?

Maybe you should go check in on him.

Yeah. Sure, you might not know where you actually stand and if he’s still upset, but you should still check on him. He’s still your fake boyfriend after all.

Right?

Right.

You should, because what kind of fake girlfriend would you be if you just let your fake boyfriend sleep on the couch… right? Just fake. Not real—fake. Right. Fake.

Maybe you wished it wasn’t fake.

Just as you’re about to toss the blanket off your leg, the door swings open.

You swallow.

He stands there, shirtless, with a towel slung over his shoulders as he ruffles it against his hair to get it dry. Why is he shirtless? Just… walking around the house with no shirt on, grey sweatpants hung low enough you could steal a glimpse of his hip bones. Fuck. Fuck!

He sniffles and why your eyes trail down to his abs flexing instead isn’t something you could explain, then when he turns around to lock the knob, it’s almost like a turn on because your pussy clenches around nothing at the thought of something more based off the action.

But no. No. No. You asked for nothing more and you get nothing more.

“Hi,” you speak up, voice hoarse for some reason before clearing your throat and reiterating the greeting once more. “H-Hey.”

Why are you stuttering?

He only looks at you for a brief second before grabbing the pillow on the bed and throwing it onto the floor with a spare blanket. “Hey, baby.”

Baby. He used that pet name on you again. There’s a sense of relief that fans you, and suddenly you feel like everything is okay again, in spite of the fact that he’s shuffling to lay on the floor beside the bed after he switches off the lights.

“Are you still mad?”

“No, love.”

But his back is turned to you.

“You’re mad.”

“I’m not, love. I’m just tired—the guys drained me out. Can’t be talking about stocks, work, and beers all the time. I don’t necessarily got a corporate job to be talking about.”

You’re silent.

He doesn’t say much, and his even breathing isn’t elongated enough to be asleep.

What do you do? You can’t sleep like this. The regret in what you said earlier is gnawing at your insides, and you desperately have this urge to resolve this whole situation or else you’d be staring at the ceiling in the dark.

You gulp. Pushing down all the anxiousness that formulate in your throat, you inhale a deep breath. “Seungcheol?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you come sleep with me?”

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#seungcheol smut #scoups smut #s.coups smut #svt smut #svt fanfic #seventeen fanfic #seungcheol fanfic #seungcheol x reader #svt x reader #gyukultfics

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artificialqueens · 11 months

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🏳️‍🌈 The Miracle of Living Pt.1 (Bianca Del Rio/BenDeLaCreme ig??) - Lita

In this world we're just beginning To understand the miracle of living

Hello everyone! Welcoe to the long-awaited prequel to the Bitney San Junipero AU that I technically started writing five years ago (???) but recently decided to try and breathe new life into and complete. In theory this can stand alone as its own story with a few vague references to Black Mirror future tech sprinkled in, but it's really just setup to the main fic that kind of got away from me. The story has gotten a complete overhaul, so if anyone from Ye Olden Days remembers it - please do stick around and read this new version, I promise it's better.

Massive thank you to @veronicasanders for giving me the kick up the ass required to get this story back off the ground, throwing her ideas at me, and being my Google when it comes to divorce court and the American college system. Love you mom - I hope this story is everything you'd dreamed of <3

Summary: Bianca is twenty-one, flunking college, and - thanks to a night of drunk bad decision-making - she's pregnant with her gay best friend's baby.

Los Angeles, California

January 17th, 2022

“BEN!”

Bianca’s furious voice rings out through the small apartment. She’s sitting on the toilet with her pajama pants and underwear around her ankles, willing the second blue line to disappear. If anything, it’s getting darker.

“Uh…yeah?” The reply comes from the other side of the bathroom door.

“I thought you said you wore a fucking condom!”

“I did!” Ben protests. Then, meek and cautious: “...It might have split.”

“It might have what?”

Two and a half months ago, Bianca and Ben had gone out drinking to commiserate the ends of their respective relationships - Ben had found out about his long-term boyfriend’s secret Grindr profile and dumped him, then Bianca’s longest-lasting FWB had called it quits with her less than a week later. When they got home, drunk and dumb and miserable, they’d started making out with each other on the couch - as a joke, just for something to do. And then, since they were shitfaced and apparently didn’t know any better, one ‘joke’ led to another, and they’d woken up naked in Ben’s bed. They had laughed it off the morning after, hunched at the kitchen table over alka-seltzer and black coffee - too much liquor, too many emotions. Shit happens.

And then tonight, Bianca had mentioned offhand that she was incredibly overdue her period, and suggested going out to buy a test half as a joke. Ben had gone along with it a little too willingly, and he’d been overly-energised and super fucking weird on the walk to the drugstore. Really, Bianca should have known something was up when he detoured via the liquor store across the street, and came back with two bottles of tequila.

“Ben, are you fucking kidding me?” Bianca says through her teeth.

“I was gonna tell you,” Ben replies, sounding flustered. “Is the door locked? Can I come in?”

Bianca wants to say no, but it was Ben’s curiosity about her vagina that got them here in the first place, so who cares about whether or not he sees her now? She reaches over to turn the lock. Ben shuffles into the room in his leopard-print boxers and an oversized pajama shirt, and perches on the edge of the bathtub, looking at the floor.

Part of Bianca wants to burst into tears - another part of her wants to scream until she throws up. Not now. Not fucking now - not like this. She’s twenty-one; Bianca doesn’t even know that she wants a goddamn kid at all, forget about one fathered by her gay best friend.

“Look, I didn’t notice until after we were done. And I didn’t want to freak you out - I figured it would probably be nothing, and then there was never a good time, and then you told me you were late and I…”

“You’re a faggot, we were hammered, we fucked because we thought it would be funny - if you knew that there was any chance whatsoever that you’d knocked me up, you should have fucking told me!” Bianca snarls through gritted teeth.

Ben doesn’t say anything for a moment. He doesn’t really react either. He just sits there and looks at her; composed, taking it in.

Bianca met Ben at a theater summer camp when they were sixteen. Ben had just moved from Seattle; he was about to start junior year at the private school across town. They led fundamentally different lives - Bianca had found herself seethingly jealous of him and his cakewalk of a fucking existence when she first met him, resolved that she had no other choice but to hate him on premise. But they’d been assigned as duet partners for the end-of-summer showcase and, faced with no other choice but to get along with him, she’d discovered that they were fucking made for each other. Ben didn’t mind that Bianca was kind of a bitch; he laughed at her jokes, he seemed to understand her. All three qualities she’d never experienced from other kids her age. One juvenile performance of Waltz for Eva and Che later, and she’d found an apparent friend for life.

And then, once high school drew to a close and Bianca was confronted head-on with the unblinking abyss of her future and its hopelessness, he’d offered her an exit route. He was freaked out by the idea of sharing a dorm with a stranger, so his dad had eventually relented after months of begging to privately rent an apartment - he just needed a roommate. She’d never expected that that offer would land her here.

“So, you’re pregnant?” He asks cautiously.

“Yeah - no shit, Sherlock.”

“Do you think you should take another one? To make sure or whatever?” Ben asks. Bianca presses the heel of her hand to her temple, still not breaking eye contact with the pregnancy test.

“Nope - that looks pretty positive to me,” Bianca shows it to him, wiping the mist of stress-sweat from her brow. Ben pulls a vaguely disgusted face. There’s a moment of pause - Bianca bites her lip, struggling to make sense of the messy cocktail of emotions swirling around inside her head.

“Are you okay?” Ben tries to take Bianca’s hand. It feels weirdly violating to have someone touching her while she’s sitting on the toilet. She swats him away.

“I think so. I need a little time to get my head around…everything.” Bianca grits her teeth.

All the scary new problems are dawning on her all at once, like she’s being descended on by a swarm of wasps. College. How to tell her parents. Hospital bills. College again. The apartment is too small for another person. She’ll probably be a shitty mother. Ben. Ben’s pending status as an absent father. She’s never changed a diaper before. College. Fucking college.

She’s currently scraping through year number four of her two-year community college program. Which, as it turns out, only takes two years if you aren’t working full-time to try and keep yourself fed and housed. Ben’s impending graduation from USC - full ride for a screenwriting major, family that gave a shit about him - made that feel even more grim.

This whole convoluted, stupid journey to something better had felt both never-ending and deeply hopeless for the last thirty-six months, and now the whole endeavor is decisively fucked. Even if she does make it to that prophesied something better - enough credits to earn her a spot in the fashion merchandising major she’d been declined acceptance to straight out of high school - there’s no way she can handle real college with a fucking screaming infant permanently attached to her. She can feel the dream crumbling in her hands.

Bianca makes a silent resolution that she’s not putting her own kid - who still feels very much like a hypothetical even though it very much isn’t - through the same shit. You’re eighteen now, you’re not our problem any more. It really didn’t help that every screaming argument with her mom in the leadup to her high school graduation had been silently spectated by her brother - in all his uneducated, unemployed, twenty-seven year old glory - from his position fossilized into the living room couch with his PlayStation controller in his hand. We’re not paying for you to stay in this house and fuck your life up - why her specifically?

Her desire not to be their problem had trailed her from NOLA to LA with Ben, and that was its own issue. She leaves on her terms and she’s abandoning her family, even though it was their sharp insistence that she got a job or an apartment or fucking something else that didn’t involve her living at home and taking up too much space that had pushed her in that direction in the first place. What the fuck was there for her at home anyway? Community college and shitty waitressing jobs? At least she could do the same shit against a prettier backdrop on the other side of the country.

Bianca realizes she’s staring dementedly at the test in her hand again. She sniffs, trying to blink away tears she hadn’t noticed forming.

“I really didn’t see being a single mom in my life plan,” she mutters - thinking out loud.

Except she had. In her bleaker moments - the ones in which she was seventeen and terrified of what would happen if she never got out of her hometown. She hadn’t had that nightmare since she and Ben had packed his car and left at the beginning of September four years ago.

“Who says you have to be a single mom?” Ben tilts his head, reaching a hand out for her again.

Bianca scoffs.

“What? No- Ben, I really don’t want to date you - one night was bad enough.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. But like…if you’re gonna go through with this, I’m not just leaving you by yourself to do it. Both of us did something dumb, and now we’re here - so, both of us should have to parent the consequence.”

There’s a quiet, sympathetic smile on Ben’s face. Bianca still wants to fucking kill him. She eyes him up, searching for any hints of deception or fake-niceness. Surprisingly, he passes the on-the-spot analysis.

“You’re just saying that so I stop being mad at you.”

“No! Anyway, I can’t let you raise it by yourself - I love you, but the world really, really doesn’t need two of you.”

“Ha-ha, go suck a dick,” Bianca rolls her eyes. She can’t help but crack a smile.

“If this is what happens when I try to go outside my comfort zone, then yeah, that’s what I’m sticking to.”

****

2nd May, 2022

“That was less excruciating than I thought it would be,” Bianca arches her back as she perches on the edge of the bed, stretching out. Her hair is still elaborately styled; what little of her makeup had survived the day still on her face.

She’d abandoned her dress on the floor the second that they got to their hotel room. She’s basically naked, which Ben seems perplexingly unbothered by; married, heterosexual life seems to have changed him quicker than she thought it would. It’s a relief, finally being alone with him. She’d have preferred to actually be alone, but after a day of forced smiles and overwhelm, he was better than nothing.

“Absolutely,” Ben nods, sitting down to untie his shoes. He’s still wearing his tux - his black curls are coiffed back from his face, and he’d almost pass for straight, were it not for his meticulously groomed eyebrows. “I mean, I could have done with maybe seventy percent less beer and sports talk from your dad - I was starting to think he was onto me.”

“I thought everyone knew there’s no home runs in football - that’s not a gay thing, you’re just dumb.”

The shotgun wedding hadn’t really been a part of the plan, but after Bianca’s mom had found out that she was pregnant, and then proceeded to call her non-stop for weeks in order to berate her for bringing shame on the family like it was the fucking 1800s, Ben had suggested it. Her mother’s bizarre and endlessly changing standards of behavior continue to baffle Bianca.

The decision to go ahead with it seemed a bit weird, but ‘weird’ had become a default preset of Bianca’s existence since January. Ben had thrown himself into the organization with immediate, over-the-top passion - opening up Pinterest and starting on the moodboard five minutes after Bianca had agreed to it. It had kept him entertained and out of the way, which was nice - he’d already started reading parenting books, and was being a little overbearing about prenatal vitamins and whether or not Bianca had made her birth plan yet.

Outside of picking out her dress, Bianca hadn’t really had to do or think about anything. Marrying a gay man had its perks. She’d had a brief reprieve from Ben’s preemptive helicopter parenting, which gave her more energy to focus on finding bigger apartments, since otherwise the kid would be sleeping in the closet, and trying to convince her job that no, four weeks definitely wasn’t enough maternity leave.

The wedding day had been quietly excruciating - her family, her mom specifically, engaging in that grim unspoken facade of keeping up appearances. Pretending that everything was completely fine and normal, denying any knowledge of Bianca’s pregnancy when asked about it. It would be embarrassing if it wasn’t so fucking normal for her. The atmosphere had been thorny, and Bianca had spent most of the day choking back alcohol-free prosecco and waiting for it to be over.

Ben’s family - who seemed confused but generally enthusiastic about the whole ordeal, probably only half-buying Ben’s assertion that he was actually bi and Bianca was definitely the one - seemed to like Bianca though, and that was refreshing. Some kind of normalcy in As Yet Unnamed Kid’s extended family was deeply necessary. They, and Ben himself, had been the only bearable part of the whole thing. Plus they’d fronted most of the expenses and organized the reception at their country club, which was a damn sight better than the social hall of the church that Bea’s family pretended to attend.

“Anyway, I’ve got proof that we’ve fucked at least once, so I don’t think anyone was super suspicious,” Ben continues as Bianca flops back onto the plush bed, letting out a heavy sigh. “How is she doing?”

“She’s fine - she let Mommy keep all of her food down today, so that’s something,” Bianca says.

She’s kind of starting to show now; although just to the point where she looks spectacularly bloated, rather than recognisably pregnant. They didn’t actually know what gender she was yet - but Bea had a feeling. Maybe it was more of a hope, actually; if it was a boy, Ben got to pick the name, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about calling it Raphael.

The kid had been a little bitch recently - whenever Bianca tried to complain about it, Ben would just laugh and remind her that she clearly took after her mom. After a lot of smugness about how she’d not had morning sickness at all, it hit her like a truck for some reason the moment she hit her second trimester. She’d spent the better part of the month before the wedding bent over a toilet bowl. Bianca is already pretty fucking sick of being pregnant, and she’s not even halfway done - she’s always tired, and her boobs hurt, and she misses comfortable sleep and coffee. She thought that nine months with no booze would be the hard part, but dragging herself through life without caffeine is proving to be the real kicker.

“This is weird,” Bianca muses, staring up at the ceiling.

“What’s weird?” Ben turns to look at her, eyes landing on and then immediately flashing away from her exposed tits.

“Try and think about it for like, slightly longer than you wanna think about it. You’re my husband, and I’m pregnant with your kid,” she says plainly. “In what universe was that ever something either of us would have wanted a year ago?"

“Okay, so maybe you’re kind of messy and annoying, and you talk with your mouth full like, all the time and it’s really gross, but I can think of worse people to spend the rest of my life with,” he shrugs. Bianca swats at him with a pillow.

“Thanks a lot.” She aims for pissed, but a smile cracks its way through. “Anyway, it’s not the rest of our lives - play pretend for a few years, then split up and go and live our truths or whatever once she moves out, like we agreed,” Bianca says. Ben nods knowingly.

That was another aspect of things that she was a little hesitant about. Ben had meant what he said about sticking around and raising the kid, but they’d always planned for something more like coparenting. They’d have the baby, and then grow the fuck up and get their own relationships and apartments and lives while splitting custody.

So, the sham marriage thing had interfered with that master plan quite a fucking lot. The situation had divulged into a years-long commitment to lying to people - no dating, since what was gonna happen when the kid started talking and blabbed to whatever set of grandparents about Daddy’s boyfriend? They were gonna be stuck living together for the foreseeable. So, even more keeping up of fucking appearances, which Bianca can’t stand doing it. But the ring on her finger is a glaring, expensive sign that she’s already committed.

They’d talked about it already; pretend to everyone, including the kid, that everything was entirely fine and normal until she was old enough to understand it, get a divorce in about eighteen years, and go their separate ways while continuing to be friends if they could still stand the sight of each other. Easy.

“Thinking about it like that just makes it sound worse,” Ben leans back to lie next to her, loosening his tie. “It’s gonna be fine. One step at a time.”

“Sure,” Bianca replies, distant.

“I mean,” Ben rolls over onto his side, lowering his eyelids into an expression that Bianca imagines is supposed to be seductive. “It is our wedding night - how about round two?”

“Ew - no, never.” Bianca cracks a smile, pushing him away. Ben laughs.

“Thank god, I barely got through saying that without puking.” He starts unbuttoning his shirt and glancing around the expansive bridal suite - still a mess from Bea getting ready that morning. “Do you want me to take the couch?”

Bianca thinks for a second.

“Nah - that doesn't feel fair. I’ve been averaging getting up to pee about ten times a night though, so you can look forward to that.” She looks down at her belly, putting both hands around her barely-noticeable bump. “I hope you know you’re already a gigantic pain in my ass, baby.”

****

September 29th, 2022

Ben had left to go and get coffee - which is probably a good thing, since Bianca was getting tired of looking at him. He’d been…way too intensely supportive, to an extent that she’d found a little smothering. But at least he’d been there. Throughout the last nine months, Bianca had been worried that he was eventually going to get sick of her shit and leave her to deal with it by herself. She’d given him no shortage of shit to get sick of.

The epidural hasn’t quite worn off yet; Bianca has no idea what sort of state her pussy is in, and she’s not sure she wants to know. She’s sweaty and exhausted, but she feels…good. For some reason.

Her water had broken that morning. Ben had been at work - fatherhood looming over him and in desperate need of something more secure than his old three shifts a week at TGI Fridays, he’d picked up a job doing data entry or some other boring crap in an office full of middle-aged straight women about two months ago. Apparently it had been hilarious to watch his reputation as the super fun token gay guy shatter in real time when he’d announced to his boss in front of most of his coworkers that he had to leave because his wife had just gone into labor.

Yeah, he’d been fucking insufferable with the constant ‘you’re doing amazing’s, but he was trying his best. Bea couldn’t exactly be mad at him - he’d just put up with eight hours of her screaming bloody murder and telling everyone who came near her to go fuck themselves. And she’s pretty sure she’d been gripping his hand so tightly she came close to breaking a couple of his fingers.

The room is quiet now. It’s bliss, compared to the chaos of the last few hours - the mad rush of doctors and nurses and blood and sweat and swearing. It’s getting dark outside, the glow of the city lights flickering through the thin curtains. There’s a plastic crib next to Bianca’s bed, with a pink label on its side. Adore Del Rio, 6lbs 3oz.

No matter how disgusting and tiring her day has been - and it was really tiring, and really, really fucking disgusting - a sense of enormous, beautiful calm had washed over Bianca when she held her daughter for the first time. Her daughter.

She’d never felt anything like this before, looking down at the tiny, squishy, pink bundle in her arms. She’s asleep now, wrapped in a blanket and held to Bea’s bare chest. She’s so…little, and so delicate, Bianca thinks as Adore - her fucking daughter - wriggles and murmurs, reaching up for her with one perfect, miniature hand. The delicate curls of her wispy brown hair, and the gentle rise and fall of her chest as Bianca holds her close - she can’t believe that she fucking made her. She’s so perfect, and so goddamn fucking small - and Bianca feels both blissfully zen, and absolutely ready to tear anybody who tries to take Adore away from her limb from limb.

She’s barely been here for an hour, and Bianca loves her more than she’s ever loved anything else before.

*****

March 18th, 2041

“Did you finish your homework last night?”

“Yes.” Adore, lacking in any semblance of enthusiasm, grunts from the kitchen table; pulling out one of her earbuds and looking at Bianca with a mix of indignation and fury.

“Then how come I’m getting emails from the school - again - about you not turning it in?” Bianca places the last clean plate on the dishrack and turns around, leaning against the counter and drying her wet hands on the ass of her jeans. That fails to elicit any form of response from her asshole teenager, and she tries again. “Come the fuck on, Dorey- it’s like you don’t even want to graduate.”

“Maybe I don’t?” She tilts her head, shit-eating grin on her face. That was a deliberate attempt at pissing her off - Bianca has gotten pretty good in recent years at telling those apart from Adore pissing her off without meaning to, and she tries not to let it. Even if her blood is already quietly simmering.

“Oh, you absolutely do if you wanna keep living in this house-”

“Leave her alone, Bea.” Ben laughs, sitting opposite from Adore, as he looks up from the article he’s reading on his tablet.

He only got home from work about an hour ago - most of Bianca’s days off fall on weekdays, so she’s been at home all day, doing pretty much nothing of note until Adore got home from school. They’d had a minor screaming match about the state of Adore’s room - Bianca had threatened to withhold phone privileges and her car keys until Adore relented, threw out the fifteen water bottles she’d been accumulating on her nightstand, and hid the rest of her mess in the closet. Fuck it, good enough.

They only seemed to either argue or ignore each other when Ben wasn’t home which was…just fucking great. It made Bianca feel totally awesome about herself. But Ben is back, order has been restored, and Bianca is cleaning up after dinner like nothing had happened.

“Whose side are you on?” Bianca replies, faux-shocked. “Fucking traitor.”

“Clearly mine, because I’m his favorite,” Adore smirks. You don’t know the fucking half of it, Dorey.

Bianca isn’t saying anything, but the way that Adore is looking at her tells her that she probably still looks mad. This recurring point of tension is getting several million miles up Bianca’s ass.

Adore’s latest thing, with her last months of high school on horizon, has been threatening not to go to college. She’d gotten her applications in by some fucking miracle, and by even further fucking miracle had been accepted for a songwriting major at some prestigious music school that Bianca couldn’t remember the name of - and was now adamant that she wasn’t going, in favour of driving around the country with the ‘band’ that her and her dumbass friends had formed last summer, playing gigs in basements and doing god-knows what else.

Bianca feels like she knows on some level that this is all talk; of course Adore is gonna graduate and go, she’s not stupid. But she’s been in the midst of a prolonged rebellious phase since she was about thirteen. Every time they fight about it, Bianca wants to shake Adore and tell her you’re gonna fucking do this because I couldn’t, stop being fucking ungrateful - but her failed aspirations aren’t Adore’s fault.

It just annoys her. Adore, in every possible way, has had an easier life than Bianca ever did and she struggles not to hate her for it. Her future is available to her on a silver goddamn platter, she’s looking for reasons to not take it, and for fucking what? Being cool?

Ben, against what had seemed like all odds when they were in their twenties, had really fallen upwards from the joint error that had changed the trajectory of both of their lives. That first ‘pay the bills’ office job doing whatever-the-fuck had unlocked Ben’s secret talent for playing corporate ball, and a little less than eighteen years later he was the CFO of an LGBT charity, and making what Bianca deemed to be a fucking stupid amount of money. Enough to afford their too-nice house in a too-nice neighborhood in West LA, and Adore’s too-nice performing arts high school.

Bianca had climbed about as far up the ladder as she’d been able to, but given that she was a college dropout with no real experience in anything else, the depressing non-failure of retail store management was about the best she could manage. It wore her down; the feeling of uselessness and guilt as she inhabited this existence that felt a million miles above her means.

“This is insane - have you guys read about this new Cookie Heaven thing they’re trialing?” Ben looks up again, breaking the frosty silence - Bianca disinterestedly flicking through her phone, Adore disinterestedly pretending to finish her homework. “Guys?”

Ben had been bizarrely fixated on this emergent technology for the last year or so - some shit about consciousness transfers and virtual afterlifes that Bianca didn’t understand and didn’t care to. It made her skin crawl, not that she had any idea why. Truly, the rate at which Cookies as a principle had been developed, outlawed, un-outlawed, given rights, made illegal again but only in certain situations - it felt like it dominated the news, and with every possible turn it got weirder. Their trajectory had felt like trying to find a point for something that had been invented pointlessly. Criminal justice, entertainment, smart home tech, medical advances, god knows what else - Bianca just thought they were a bit macabre.

“Nope, don’t want to. It’s creepy.” Bianca shudders, kicking off the process of shutting him up about it before he talks about it too much and gets under her skin. “Is this like that chick who died in that AR art thing at Burning Man and got stuck in the Cloud? Because that freaked me the fuck out.”

“Why? I think it’s really nice. According to this, they’ve been successful with people who’ve been uploaded prior to death, so now they’re looking at trialing it for long-term coma patients, end-of-life care, people with Alzheimer’s - it could be really promising.”

“Absolutely not - when I die, let me rest in fucking peace.” Bianca pulls a face. “Don't throw some gross little computer clone of me into a weird simulation and force me to live forever - it’s weird. I don’t like it."

“Bianca, Cookies aren’t just computers-”

“It’s messed up.”

Adore shuffles uncomfortably in her seat, pushing her earbuds in further. Bianca half-watches her, pursing her lips.

“I think it’s sweet. It says in the article that if this trial thing works, then they’re going to look at options for letting family members visit,” Ben says a little wistfully.

“Ah.” It takes a moment of thought, but Bianca feels like an asshole.

“Look, I just think that if something like that had been around thirty years ago, it would have been…” he stops, not sure how to finish his sentence. Ben’s mom died when he was ten, and that tragedy has been underpinning Adore’s entire adolescence; his constant anxiety over something happening to himself or Bianca, not wanting his daughter to have to suffer through the same lifelong, unshifting grief. “Think about Adore-”

“Yeah - maybe think about me enough to not have this conversation right in fucking front of me?” Adore bolts to her feet, her hands clasped at her sides. Her eyes look moist. Bianca half-opens her mouth, trying to say something, but no words make their way out. “This is freaking me out - stop it!”

She scrubs at her eyes furiously with a balled fist, storming out of the room and letting the door swing shut behind her with a thud.

“Dorey-” Ben calls out weakly after her.

“What the fuck was that?” Bianca walks around the table, slumping down into the seat Adore had just been occupying. She hears Adore’s bedroom door slam from upstairs.

“I dunno - I guess that got a little heavy? I mean, who wants to sit around and listen to their parents talking about what’s gonna happen when they die?” Ben looks uncomfortable, chewing at his bottom lip. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Yeah,” Bianca replies distantly, not really listening.

“I do mean it, though.” Ben says, leaning across the table - looking past Bianca’s folded arms and frosty expression. “If I’d had some way to still talk to my mom - even if it wasn’t fully real, even if it was just a simulation - I’d have wanted that. And I don’t think it’s fair that we should stop Adore from having that chance.”

“What, so I have to commit to being alive forever even when I don’t want to, for her benefit? I don’t think she even likes me anymore, Ben - she wouldn’t care.” Bianca sounds more morose than she wants to, but it’s true. She loves Adore, but god knows the kid is going out of her way to make that difficult.

“Believe me, she would.” Ben looks at her a little too seriously. “I’m just saying I think we should look into it.”

“Look into it all you want - I’m not doing it.”

“Seriously, Bea-” Ben is looking at her with puppy eyes and it’s making her feel nauseous. “For Adore?”

There’s loud music blasting upstairs, and Bianca is wondering if it’s Adore picking up an old habit of putting her speakers on when she’s crying, so that nobody can hear her. She wants to go and check on her, but she’s glaringly aware that any interference from her is perceived as a pending attack by Adore right now - how powerless she feels hurts. Bianca looks at the floor, picking at her cuticles.

“Fine.”

*****

August 4th, 2042

“So, I’m sure this isn’t gonna come as a shock to you, but your dad and I got a divorce.”

Adore’s eyes practically pop out of her head as she spits her coffee out. More of it gets on Bianca’s face than she would have liked.

“What?”

“I don’t think I left much room for interpretation there, Dorey,” Bianca grimaces, wiping secondhand iced latte off of her cheek with a napkin.

“Yeah, okay, whatever. Why the fuck did you get a divorce?” Adore looks sullen. Almost angry, actually.

Regardless of how different they’d seemed to become as she’d grown up, every so often Bianca was hit with a very, very strong reminder that Adore was her mother’s daughter. Calm and rational, per fucking usual.

She’d debated back and forth with Ben about who should tell her. They’d been dancing around the subject since June, when Adore had first come home for summer; practically rehearsing the conversation. Eventually they’d settled on Bianca - Ben had admitted himself that Bianca’s at times abrasive directness was the way forward. Adore didn’t hold well with people pussyfooting around her, and Ben was always a little too delicate with her feelings. He’d been the ideal Good Cop to Bianca’s bad one when Adore was little - but she was nineteen now, had moved out almost a year ago, and was as close to a real adult as she was realistically ever gonna be. She needed someone to be straight with her. And, well, out of the two of them, Bianca was probably the closest thing to straight. Even after nearly twenty years of marriage.

The split itself had been more than amicable, since years of planning had gone into it. The only slight point of contention had been, in the process of unpicking and rewriting both of their advanced directives, Ben had been pretty insistent on her keeping the part about San June-whatever-the-fuck - that weird Cookie Heaven thing which she’d hoped would just be a passing fad when Ben brought it up last spring, but had only gained more traction and more apparent success.

She’d tried to reason with him about Adore being a grown-up now, and how she’d made it through the last year without shuffling off this mortal coil, and so their respective deaths were probably a far-future issue that they shouldn’t be so worried about right now, but it hadn’t flown. Bianca had spent long enough in lawyers’ offices debating bullshit to have any useful argument left in her. She’d thought the divorce process would be less of a nightmare since it was agreed upon by both parties prior to the fucking wedding, but apparently she’d thought wrong.

“Because we…” Bianca sighs, facepalming. Adore has tears in her eyes. Shit, she really hadn’t been expecting this. “Because he’s gay, Adore.”

Adore’s eyes pop again. Bianca clamps a hand over her mouth before she gets a chance to cover her in overpriced coffee again.

“Daddy’s gay?” Adore blurts out as soon as she manages to swallow.

“Duh?” That just tumbles out of Bianca’s mouth without any real thought. “Are you really telling me that you never suspected anything?”

“No? I thought he was just like…I dunno, really into theater. Did you just find out? Holy shit, are you okay?” Adore reaches for Bianca’s hand a little frantically. Bianca laughs, shaking her head.

“Nope - I’ve always known. Dorey, I…” she sighs again, realizing how ridiculous this sounds. “Listen, when a gay man and a bisexual live together, and they get really, really drunk this one time…”

“Ohmigod, you’re bi?”

How unobservant is this fucking kid?

“Yeah - surprise. Now you know why we were so fucking chill about it when you cut all your hair off and started begging for a pair of Doc Martens when you were twelve,” Bianca says, chuckling.

A confused look washes over Adore’s face. “But I…you always seemed so in love.”

“We decided we were gonna get married and pretend to be normal so that we didn’t fuck you up,” Bianca shrugs. “Which clearly worked super well.”

Adore cracks a smile. It feels good to see her smile.

Since Adore moved out for college - miracle of fucking miracles - the rift between them that her teenage years had created seemed to fill itself in. Bianca felt closer to her; felt the warmth of her love without hesitation or denial for the first time in years. She was like a different person. Happy - blossoming into herself. She’d started posting her music on social media, and was getting enough buzz to land gigs here and there. And she hadn’t just stopped pushing Bianca away, but had started actively reaching out for her. She called her at least once every couple of days because she missed her; messaged her constantly. Just frivolous little updates about her days, or pictures of dogs that she’d seen - silly little shit. But it felt good.

She’d worried that it wouldn’t last. But Adore had come home for summer, and as it trailed to an end, there’d been no second coming of their years-long bitch-feud. Everything had been fucking glorious.

“Boo, you’re mean,” Adore says playfully.

“For the record, we were good at faking being in love because we both love you,” Bianca says, reaching out to take Adore’s hand. She’s bitten off two of her acrylics again - Bianca is a little suspicious about which two exactly, and briefly debates calling her out for it. Whatever - she’s an adult, she can do what she wants. But Bianca is taking her to get a manicure once they get done oversharing in the middle of this cafe, because it looks like shit. “That’s not gonna change. But you’re probably gonna end up with stepparents.”

Adore looks down. She’s always done this cute little smirky thing when she’s embarrassed - eyes fixed to the floor, quietly smiling to herself. Bianca loves it.

“Are you dating anyone right now?”

Bianca rolls her eyes.

“We’re not dating-dating. But yeah - her name is Katya, I met her online.”

“Is she hot?”

“None of your business - she’s too old for you anyway,” Bianca shoots Adore a warning look. “Your dad was on a date last night, too - some guy called Darius, apparently it went really well. But I’m gonna look into getting his room soundproofed.”

“Ewwww,” Adore clamps her hands over her ears, laughing. “You’re being gross. Stop being gross.”

“Don’t ask questions you’re not prepared to hear the answer to,” Bianca grins. “Are you good now? Or do you feel like spitting coffee all over me again? I really enjoyed it that first time.”

“Honestly? I always wondered why none of my friends’ parents had their own bedrooms,” Adore thinks out loud. Bianca shakes her head, chuckling.

“I love you so much, you fucking moron.”

Pride Challenge Points: 10,312

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notahorseindisguise · 1 year

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cookie dough chocolate chip

chewy gooey cookie

the tonight dough

swich up

half baked

phish food

sofa so good together

this is a list of all the kinds of ben and jerrys ice cream at a store im near. i wanna buy myself so i feel happy ANSNAGSV so im gonns get myself a way too expensive tub of ice cream. ive never had ben and jerrys before its 9 AUD and a teensy container while a 5 litre container of normal ice cream is like 5 AUD. but ive never had b&j and i feel bad inside so ig ill buy one. but also i cant make decisions. what flavour should i get? i have no idea whats in all of them and also i dont eat nuts. pretend this is a poll plz vote<3

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midnightmisadventures · 1 year

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Oh yea ig i have to update

Um.....

So i go to state college tomorrow morning lol and still no more details if im gonna be seeing Liam tomorrow night

I asked bff if she gave him a warning and she said NOT YET so she was gonna tell him tonight (last night)

So he agreed to coming without knowing i’d be there........i mean wtf that just feels like a setup. swipe up to double cross? lmao but seriously i said PLEASE tell him. It’d be much weirder for me if he’s blindsided, like what are the odds i’d be there otherwise.

And she was basically like i didnt wanna make it a big deal and im like if im being transparent, MAKE it a big deal. Like he blocked me, so thats his decision, but obv im not gonna not see my bestfriend

Anyway she was asking is it that bad between yall like would he not come if he knows ur coming?? and i was like bro no comment just make sure he knows i’ll be there.

and NO update. She literally told me when she was gonna tell him and how and everything and she didnt.....text...me BACK. Bro wtf all i wanna know is if i’m going to see him TOMORROW, just as a courtesy lmao like i don’t know what to wear

Meanwhile, signs and messages have not stopped being the most lovey dovey, finally aware, lights on, speedy communication ass shit. Like its exhausting but fuck it lets fucking go!!

Oh its Union? We ride at dawn. I’m not gonna fight it, i’m not gonna fight him, just show me results or nothing at all. I don’t have time for bullshit.

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kozykricket · 29 minutes

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been spending days recently doing too much of what i feel i Should be doing to be productive and such, so i gave myself a nice classic treat day today of . just kinda fuck it we ball, and not overthinking stuff too much. just... hung out with some cool peeps, played videogame.. i think i may be tired tomorrow from stayin up late tonight, but . well . deciding to go against my """productive""" flow of tellin myself repeatedly to do things, or just spending time on social media typin about games, to talk with more people and actually play something, was nice

gonna start ttyd sometime soonish, and i started a calamity run. i decided hm maybe the texture pack for calamity is nice and like

okay dont get me wrong it IS but also. using lights and shadows mod + calamity texture pack. the game is unreadable to me, like . literally unsightreadable /lh

i also am conflicted on what music i want playin for the vanilla bosses. the heartplusup themes, the cd themes, or the pinpinneon themes. pinpinneon has done AMAZING bug fables covers .

ig i just worry that if i have a bad experience with calamity that ill associate the banger music somehow iwth . bad times and then ill not like- yeah no thats not how that works thats just late night anxiety talking, i aint gonna not like someones music just if i get weird feelings about a game or mod. but also, i i just gotta stop overthinkin it man lol. i think the reason i like vanilla games is because theres a clear united experience designed around and ... its not up to me to make too many decisions about like. what mods to use or whatever. its just to decide how i play. which is reasonable. when im deciding How to play with What mods im like aa wait i regret this (and also stuff like i decided to pick crimson over my usual favorite, corruption. because funny calamity is edgy and red joke)

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silvermuffins · 14 days

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Since we're not just in Tartarus we have the other tags again. It is 12/21, we have 206 hours on the clock, I'm running around talking to NPCs. It hurts me that one of the random classmates talks about his bad exam score hurting his future, and another comments that Minato looks so pale, assumes he scored badly, and tries the reassure him he has another chance.

Love the thought put into this stuff.

Officer Kurosawa is still the best. ACAB except for this one. And this is why it's a fantasy- shopping trip over.

Okay I neeeeeeed....an Empress persona. Because we're gonna blast away our Mitsuru link, because Mitsuru is my queen. And sooner or later we gotta meet her fiancee, it's gotta be getting close.

Running away to where nobody knows him....I mean. Considering Toriumi mentions at the start that he's lived in a lot of places - he probably hasn't had to. ...Mitsuru you are basically the most valid, your responsibilities are so heavy and you've been through a lot. Coming to grips with how very Not A Normal Girl you are has to be tough.

Oh snap is this a romance flag? It might be a romance flag. We are romancing Mitsuru. THE FIANCEE IS HERE. He is, of course, a jackass.

"Who the hell are you?!" I'm Mr. Steal-Your-Girl. Maybe try not being a dick? Kick his ass, Mitsuru, I got your flower. This link makes me so damn happy. And this is probably my favorite rank-up.

KICK. HIS. ASS!

Fuckin hell I love that scene.

In the absence of anything else to do tonight, we will walk Koromaru. With Fuuka! Who wants to bake cake and take a bath with Koromaru, apparently.

Liz call. Yup, we're going back to Tartarus before the month is through.

Edogawa talking about near-death experiences... You gotta love how he regularly threatens to curse you if you get his questions wrong. "Love". And like, they ARE indirect threats but still how the hell is he a teacher?

"you'll have a happy school life" it's a little late for that sir

I think....the effort has to be to max Mitsuru's link by Christmas. It's gonna be close! In fact I think that makes my hanging out decisions for the next couple of days. Mitsuru <3

It made Minty happy Mitsuru that was one of few if not the only time someone's gotten super pissed on his behalf. He isn't great at standing up for himself.

God the addition of platonic options has made the romances better. Romance tiiiime. Mitsuru is so cute when she's candid.

Yes, Blink, I love you too. Blink being my cat who is extremely insistent on receiving snuggles.

Ohhh Ken linked episode today! Awesome, something to do with my evening. I love Ken so much. He's such a good kid, and these episodes make me love him more. I'm glad his hamster has gotten extra-cute.

And immediately after this, Ken and Akihiko get to come to a decision.....the timing.

Running around town and I think there might be even more Lost than at last count? We are working at the movies bc nothing better to do, and I have to go work at the movies later anyway.

Hmmm and tonight.... let's walk Koromaru I guess? With Yukari!

Christmas Eve. We will max out Mitsuru, if it lets us! If it doesn't ig we just spend Christmas with her? Yep, the latter, we just spend time with her for Christmas. She dumped her fiancee just in time.

WOW the mall is decked out! And I think they cleared out a bunch of the Lost, guess we'll see if they're back or not tomorrow.

Boooo they downgraded to "top-grade grape juice", back in FES it was champagne. I think it might've been specified as a non-alcoholic champagne, which might mean it can't be legally referred to as champagne, I'm not totally sure if non-alcoholic wines are produced in the Champagne region of France.... If that's why the item name change and it's still Basically Champagne I guess that's fine.

They do not specify as such. Buuuut I know in my heart it's champagne. Or prosecco. You get the idea. It's like the hot sauce coffee, I don't care what anyone else says, it is canon. To me.

As for giving her a present - I have some stuff I bought from Tanaka that has just been waiting for this! Actually I have a ton of gifts lying around, uhhhh I am spoiled for choice. Oooh it seems I don't wanna give her the brand items. Wait shit I don't have the things she likes most? Okay I might need to rewind to go buy and do-over.

Yeah we're gonna do that. Huff. Only the best for Mitsuru! Rewind, do-over.

Ohhh I gotta get these weapons from Mayoido eventually, they look awesome.... Hooboy.

Anyway we'll do our Christmas redo and finish off, since it's getting close to time for work. Awww yes she loves it this time! There we go, do-over is done.

We stop here for now but it looks like I am spending Christmas day with Kenji, Odagiri, or the Moon dude, which is a hell of a lineup.

#letty plays persona 3 reload #persona 3 spoilers #p3r spoilers #persona 3 reload spoilers #spoilers

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sorryimanon · 4 years

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Pairings: Bakugou Katsuki x fem!Reader, Izuku Midoriya x NB!Reader

Warnings: some angst, FLUFF, and our boys being the best boys.

In which they comfort you after a rough day or week

A/N: im sorry if Izukus section is shorter than Bakugou’s. trying to practice writing other characters. enjoy!

Saturday's are reserved strictly by the majority of the girls from class 1-A, leaving the guys to hibernate inside their dorms as they allow the commencement of girls night. You've never rain checked nor rejected the idea of spending quality time with your friends, considering all the tribe's and trepidation's everyone has endured together during their time at the academy. It's nice to just strip away the stress and dip your toes in pure relaxation.

Unfortunately, you woke up with a bad case of cloudy thoughts. For the past week you've been carrying the weight of dread, causing your mood to drastically change throughout the day. You'd be having a civil conversation with someone one minute and then the next minute you're completely irritated by their presence. You've tried to balance it out and fix it overnight with the regimes you researched on the internet. A new sleeping schedule, healthier diet, yoga, and even went to the extreme of writing in a journal. It was all so cut throat and prestigious, nothing close to your liking. Katsuki made fun of you for it one day when he snuck into your room and read the many inscriptions in your journal entries.

"This stuff reminds of Deku. Always shoving his nose in that stupid notebook of his," he didn't care much to hear your refutes about Izuku. "Anyways, what's with all this depressing shit you are writing? You don't really feel this way do you?"

You didn't give him a definite answer that day. Only a curt "no" and he resumed rambling about his day like nothing happened, having you listening with his voice like white noise going in one ear and out the other.

And that's how it went on throughout the duration of the prior week before Saturday.

Inside the confinement of your dorm, you made the rational decision to sleep in instead of attending classes. The chilling thoughts kept you up all night, never once allowing sleep to take full throttle. You tossed and turned around on your bed, unable to shut off your brain. So when you woke up in the peak of late afternoon, you weren't surprised to see the unread messages on your phone. All of them were from your explosive boyfriend.

King Explosion🤍: Oi you running late? Mr.Sleepy head is taking roll call

King Explosion🤍: y/n where tf r u?

King Explosion🤍: fine don't answer me ig

King Explosion🤍: are you at least coming down for lunch? i made curry last night and imma make you finish it

King Explosion🤍: fking hurry before dunce face eats it

King Explosion🤍: nvm he ate it 😐

Katsuki never intended for the message to be funny. He's probably blowing actual steams of smoke through his nostrils and ears while chasing kamanari amongst the halls. The comical imagery made you laugh harder. At least he made you crack a smile. You haven't shown any emotions let alone a hint of enthusiasm for tonight.

Maybe it'd be best to sit this one out.

"Hey, we're missing a person! Where's my y/n?" Mina asked after scanning the group of girls huddled around on the carpeted floor.

Momo shifted uncomfortably on the cushioned pillow she stole from the couch. "Y/N said she wasn't feeling too well to join us for tonight. Something about food poisoning and throwing up every hour."

In unison all the girls gasped, along with a concerned 'ribbit' from Tsuyu.

"Well I hope she gets to feeling better. I wouldn't want her to endure such sickness for much longer," Tsuyu croaked out.

Everyone in the circle agreed and promised to pay a visit later in the night to check on you.

On the fourth floor, Katsuki stared blankly at his phone, hands shaking due to the repressed anger he's been holding. Each of the messages he sent previously were all left on read, including the one he sent an hour ago asking if he could have a cuddle session with you before girls night. Yes, even an ill tempered guy such as him enjoys sappy shit like cuddling. After pacing back and forth in his room for a solid 5 minutes, he was now dead set on confronting you in front of your friends.

Katsuki made a beeline for the elevator and aggressively pressed the 1st floor button repeatedly in hopes it'll make the process go quicker. He reached the commons area in precision time, overhearing the girls giggle after someone suggested playing truth or dare. He towered over Uraraka's figure, casting a demonic shadow version of himself in the circle. Hagakure shrieked and clung onto Jirou.

"Where's y/n you extras?" He demanded, voice deafening the brunette under him.

"She didn't come tonight. She's in her dorm room sick," Jirou explained to him as she tried pry the invisible girl off her arm.

"Like hell she's sick!" Katsuki spun around quickly and retreated back to the elevator, mumbling obscenities under his breath. "She's going to pay for being so careless and irresponsible."

The commons room fell silent once the explosive blonde disappeared behind the doors of the elevator, all eyes searching each other in complete shock. Uraraka was the first to speak out of the small group.

“Should we warn y/n that Bakugou is coming for her?”

Jirou averted her gaze to the direction bakugou left off from, a ghost of a smirk spreading on her face.

“Nah. Knowing y/n, she can handle the asshole on her own.”

King Explosion🤍: can i come over? i wanna cuddle, i miss u

The text message kept flashing behind your eyes every-time you closed them - a sad image of Katsuki waiting impatiently for you to reply back with a heart or one of those unusual memes he unapologetically adores. You knew he’d be furious, no doubt about it, but you rationalized your decision and concluded it would be best to avoid your boyfriend like the plague till this undesired feeling dissipates. Katsuki doesn’t do well with people being emotional, let alone handle his own emotions for god’s sake.

Your own thoughts were interrupted by someone raping the outside of your door. The continuous knocks made your head spin, a painful sting ghosting back and forth between your eyes. Remembering back to an hour ago, you messaged one of the girls that you weren’t going to make it to tonight’s session. Surely they respected your wishes and continued on with their hangout? But you forgot about the one person who’s persistent and stubborn like a cat.

“I know you’re in there y/n! You may have fooled your idiotic friends with a lie, but you keep on forgetting you’re terrible at lying!” Katsuki hollers against the wood of the door, not once being considerate of those living above her.

He’s right. You’re absolutely horrible at making up excuses for yourself. Dating someone as intuitive as him will be the death of you.

“If there’s something going can you at least let me in? You can’t ignore me forever y/n.”

Again, he’s right.

You slipped out from the comfort of your bed and padded towards the door, mentally preparing for the blonde to scold you once he enters your room. What you weren’t prepared for was the tears swelling up in the ducts of his vermillion eyes - his hands clenched tightly into fists as he looked down at you. Your breathing hitched when his arm outstretched to rest on the door frame to keep his trembling body steady.

“What the hell y/n? Why the fuck have you been ignoring me?! Did I do something wrong?!” He asked, not caring about his current appearance.

You grab ahold of his other arm and absentmindedly started rubbing it affectionately, trying to coax him into calming down. “Katsuki no! You didn’t do anything wrong! Why would you think that?”

“Because dumbass, you’ve been distant this past week,” he paused, choking on his words. “Are...are you breaking up with me?”

Your eyes shot up instantly at his horrifying assumption. “Katsuki, if I tell you the truth, will you promise not to make things worse for me?”

He tilted his head in confusion, but nodded once you led him into your messy bedroom. Once inside, your boyfriend plopped down on your bed, watching intently as you anxiously bit down on your nails - a nervous habit you picked up at the beginning of the school year.

“I’ve been feeling weird lately. Ever since the beginning of last week. I don’t know how to describe it but, my brain is constantly feeding into my already negative state. Telling me things I know aren’t true but I’ve convinced myself they are. Almost as if a grey cloud is hovering above me,” tears were already starting to pour down your cheeks. “I just...I just feel so miserable and lonely and useless and irritated and- I’m so sorry for ignoring you. You probably want nothing to do with me after this!”

You manage to turn away from the sight of the blonde during your speech, ashamed of pouring out your emotions onto a person who disregards other peoples emotions and constitutes them as a quote on quote “pussy”.

From behind, you can hear faint shuffling nearing your already shaken up figure. A pair of muscular arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a wall that could only be described as his own chiseled chest, doing the same as you did moments ago with his arm - lulling you to calm down a notch before he stared speaking.

“If you been feeling this way, why lie when I asked you a few days ago after reading your journal?”

“I know how you are, Katsuki. You get very uncomfortable when people talk about their feelings. So, why should I be any different?”

Your boyfriend suddenly maneuvers you around in the circle of his arms, shifting to where you’re now making direct eye contact with him. His gaze intense and unwavering.

“Because you’re my girlfriend? I don’t give a rats ass about any of these extras. When it comes to you, I’d make an exception for. I made that promise to myself when we first started seeing each other. So don’t think for a second that I’ll disregard your true feelings, dumbass.” He stepped a couple of inches backwards, ankles eventually hitting the bottom of your bed - making him fall and dragging you along with him. You landed on top of him, head still buried in the depths of his hard chest. The vibrations of his chuckle shook your whole body. Katsuki gently titled your head to be leveled with his, a red tint of blush painting his pallid cheeks.

“I’m being serious though. Don’t be afraid to come to me when things get tough, okay? I love you too much to see you like this.”

Next thing you knew your boyfriend stole your breath away by meshing his plump lips onto yours, hands snaking their way into your hair and carefully massaging it. By all means, you let him have his way with you by kissing the sadness away, tears puddling together cheek on cheek.

He let go eventually, pecking a quick chaste kiss on the side of your mouth before hauling you further into the bed. You settled on letting him spoon you, knowing how much he likes the feeling of your backside pressed against him, and the fruity aroma of your hair infiltrating his senses.

“I promise Katsuki,” you said after some time during the cuddle session.

He shifted in his spot, head placed firmly in the crook of your neck. “Promise what?”

“That I’ll come to you when these thoughts return again. I should trust you by now, and I need to not let these emotions ruin everything in my life. I love you that much.

Your confession swelled the very last evidence of Katsuki being a human being, his heart.

He smiled weakly to himself and nuzzled more into your shoulder, brushing his warm lips against the tender skin. “You better, dumbass.”

Today was just so exhausting, and the big fat 'D-‘ written in red ink on your final report was the icing on the cake. To make things even worse, Aizawa reminded the whole class before the exam that this was to determine wether or not if you'll be joining the training camp that'll commence the following winter break.

Hopefully this was one of your teacher's terrible deception tactics into making everyone do their absolute best, go plus ultra even. But to your dismay, he was indeed very serious of the matter this time.

It wasn't your fault, not entirely. You stayed up all night listening to another one of your boyfriends rambles, the conversation lasting till 2 am. Izuku grew worrisome and anxious ever since his encounter with a gruesome villain, thus resulting in him to pour his emotions out onto you. Poor baby kept mentioning the safety of All Might and you.

Solemnly, you left class and trailed back to your dorm room, wanting to ignore the jovial atmosphere inside the cramped room as everyone traded and talked about their scores.

Izuku noticed you leaving abruptly and got up from his desk to follow you behind, bidding a quick goodbye to his friends.

Your room was dark and dramatically colder than usual, a trickle of light threatening to pour in from the cascading sunset. You laid down on your stomach with one of your pillows propped on your head, in hopes to shield away anyone from seeing your ugly-crying face.

Too late because Izuku was already standing outside your dorm room, swaying back and forth on his feet while biting down harshly on his lip. He can hear your soft cries seeping through the door. He doesn't know why he's hesitating, he's your boyfriend after all.

Moments later you hear the acute sounds of someone knocking on your door, followed by the soft spoken voice of your green haired boyfriend.

"Baby? Can I come in? I-If that's okay with you I m-mean! It's alright if you need some space but you left class so early I figured something happened to you and I got really worried because you always wait for Iida and uraraka to walk us back to the dorms as a group and maybe it had something to do with what I was telling you last night-."

You crack the door just a smidge before fully opening it, revealing your bloodshot eyes and tear stained shirt to him. His breathing hitched once his eyes fixated on your disheveled state.

"Can you comfort me? I need you right now Izuku," your voice cracked a little, throat still tight after the crying session.

His strong, lean arms wrapped around your body momentarily, encasing you into a bear hug. Hugs from Izuku were amazing, no exceptions. He placed a quick peck on the crown of your forehead.

"C'mon, let's get inside and snuggle. How does that sound?" he asked as he unwrapped himself and took your trembling hand, leading you back inside the dimly lit room.

Izuku laid you gently down on your side once reaching the bed, crawling alongside with you before draping the covers over the both of you. His familiar hands snake around your waist and nudges you to roll over. You obliged and shifted your body to face his, sparkly green eyes staring straight at you.

"Tell me, what's wrong baby? Does it have to do with the recent exam?" his thumb started tracing delicate lines on your hips, your uniform long gone and now replaced with comfortable clothes instead.

"I failed Izuku...I did so terrible on the written exam. I kept falling in and out of sleep during the test that I didn't have time to finish the middle portion of it," you exhaled a shaky breath. "Who knows what'll happen on the practical. I'll probably fail that too...I'm such a failure compared to everyone."

Izuku grabbed the tender flesh of your cheeks and directed your vision to level with his. He looked angry and concerned.

"Don't say that y/n! You're not a failure! That exam doesn't determine wether or not if you're good enough to be a hero. I've seen you in action hun, and I know for a fact that you're possibly the most strongest person I've met in my lifetime! You're ambitious, smart, determined, and so freaking beautiful." He then kissed you tenderly on the lips, his eyes closing slightly due to the contact.

"So...freaking...beautiful." He whispers against your mouth.

His sentimental words were enough for you to push back the negativity and simply enjoy the intimate moment.

Izuku lifted his head away from your face to rest it against your temple. "You're going to do great things, okay? One failing grade isn't going to be the end of the world. Trust me sweetheart, I've had my fair share in failures during our time here in Yuuei. But look at me now, still standing."

You nuzzled more into his chest, tickling his chin with your hair. Faintly, you can hear the pitter patter of his heart beat bursting through his rib cage.

"Would you love me even if I was a horrendous looking-failure?" you were clearly teasing him, but sometimes Izuku became dense when it came to that.

"Y/n! W-Why would you ask that! Of course I would you dummy! I'd love you no matter what."

This time you return the favor and kiss him, knowing how to easily fluster him in seconds. He whimpers into your mouth at the sudden contact and cups your jawline affectionately.

The two of you stayed like that till the moon shone through the balcony curtains, illuminating your skin in a dusty glow.

Lips bruised and swollen red, you laid lifelessly in his arms, letting him wove his scarred fingers through your hair. Izuku would occasionally stop to peck your lips, then resumes his attention back to your hair.

"I'm sorry by the way. I shouldn't have kept you up last night before the exam. I'm such a horrible boyfriend..." he admitted suddenly.

"Yes. Yes you are."

He gasped and stopped his movements altogether, obviously taken aback by your blunt words.

You giggled and said, "Kidding. You're the best boyfriend. Apology accepted.”

After hearing that, Izuku shoved himself onto your chest and let out muffled cry. "D-Don't scare me like that. Almost made me have a heart a-attack!"

#mha imagines #mha x reader #bakugou headcanons #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #bakugou imagine #bnha izuku #midoriya izuku #izuku x you #izuku x reader #midoriya x y/n #midoriya x you #midoriya headcanons #deku x you #deku x reader

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ontheblock · 3 years

Text

it’s my mental illness and i get to chose which character is vent through❗️❗️anyway, i have been struggling with writing the ending of the second part of my latest patrick hockstetter request and since this has been sitting in my notes for a hot minute, i decided to post it. enjoy this little story absolutely nobody asked for<3

night terrors

no warnings ig- maybe alcohol

Summer never really was plagued by night terrors the way Morty was haunted by them. Whenever she did have a bad dream as a little girl, her parents let her cry it out unless she came to their room themselves. The rare times someone did come over was when Beth was blackout drunk and Jerry followed the soft wailing of his daughter to pet her head while he listened to her sob story of a nightmare. It never helped that Jerry basically coddled baby Morty whenever he woke up - a desperate attempt to even out the neglectful way they treated her first child because they were kids themselves. But all of Jerry‘s attempts were fruitless. Summer heard Morty whine and whimper almost every night through the drywall, even more so since Rick arrived. It was ironic for her to turn out fine with her mother’s neglectful ways. Jerry should’ve maybe considered listening to Beth more with Morty. Or maybe it was meant to be like this. Poor fucker. If his nightmares didn’t take form of bullies anymore it was definitely the looming danger of acid drooling monsters or aliens smart enough to conquer their planet if a self-proclaimed god in a lab coat fucked with them. Yeah, that sounded terrifying for a child. Or maybe the thing he feared most was more simple and childish - their grandfather who took out threats like that for breakfast. But tonight wasn’t a night like that. Summer didn’t wake up from Morty hitting his bedroom wall out of reflex. It was some faceless nightmare of her own that sent her lurching upright with a struggle for air. Whatever it was, she didn’t remember much aside from Jerry‘s face and a leathery hand reaching for her out of the black abyss surrounding her but she felt the aftermath of a sprinting heart and sweat sticking her tank top to her back. Her throat was dry enough to make her reach out to her empty bedside table. She never put a glass of water by her bed, but then again she never needed it.

Swiping back a stray hair, Summer pushed her blanket off to stand up on wobbly legs. She made her way over to the door, stepping over the creaky floorboard. The hallway was quiet but as she crept down the stairs, Summer noticed the flickering lights of the TV pouring out the living room. She had half the mind to blackmail Morty about watching TV on a school night but she definitely kept the info in the back of her mind for tomorrow’s breakfast as she avoided more creaky floorboards on her way to the kitchen. The moron even turned down the volume.

"Morty, I swear to god. Your nightly water trips are getting on my- on my last nerve."

Summer blinked once, twice to place the voice. The distinct alcoholic slur and the audible frown was familiar to her even in a sleepy state. And surely, it was Rick. Shuffling closer, Summer could peek over the couch‘s back to see her grandpa lounging in his oil stained wife beater, tinkering with a cube shaped hunk of metal. Like this she could see his hands at work, talented fingers coaxing loosened screws into their threads. He hissed a low "me cago en tu madre" when the phillips head slipped from the screw he was working on. Summer could make out the blue mesh of veins under the withered skin on the back of his hand. Rick really did have the hands of a worker - a mechanic or construction worker. They looked nothing like the office worker hands of Jerry, if he had even that. He seemed to sense her presence - if that was even possible - because his head turned to look at who he assumed to be Morty.

"Summer? What the fuck are you doing here?"

What was she doing here? She came for a glass of water but her throat was less parched now and something about her mysterious grandpa reeled her in like a damn fish. She took her bait and ran her clammy palm over the couch cushion by her grandpa‘s neck. "I woke up, obviously. I had a nightmare. No big deal." Her eyes pointedly stayed on Rick‘s hand holding a screwdriver or the coffee table with half a bottle of whiskey standing next to Rick‘s feet that he casually propped up onto the wood but she never met his gaze. Why was she even this honest? She could make some kind of excuse but it’s been months since her family showed interest in what she was doing. "Nightmare, huh?" Rick echoed her as if to taste the word on the tip of his tongue. Summer wondered if he had nightmares sometimes. She nodded, eyes finally flickering to his face. The TV casted lights and shadows on his old features. Right now he looked normal, not like that crazy scientist with a mean silver tongue that intimidated her the first time they met at the breakfast table. Summer was used to see the hollow green glow following Rick like a fucked up halo or even the zapping blue rays from devices that can both end and create wars. But now the angular features showed a different side. The soft studio lights of some late night show made him look like a regular addition to the family and it helped Summer release her tense shoulders for the first time in a while, like she didn‘t need to be sarcastic or indifferent all the time. A little voice in the back of her head told her that Morty could be his awkward idiotic self so why couldn’t she?

"Why are you up, grandpa?" She leaned her front against the couch back and kept her voice down just in case Morty did wake up again. "I‘m - bergh - well over the age of bed times. This piece of shit is m-more important." Rick averted his gaze and waved the cube in his hand. Summer hummed and reached for it only to have Rick shuffle it to his other hand and hold it out of reach. "Well, what is it? Can it, like, cause mass destruction or something? Or does it contain a totally freaky virus? Or—" Rick shushed his granddaughter and tossed the cube on the coffee table. "Calm your tits, Summer. It‘s- It‘s to cure Granorian crystals. The, the, the-" Rick rotated his hand as if to underline his search for the most simple explanation "-easiest planet to harvest them happens to have the most impure growth." His hand fell into his lap, the other one snatching the whiskey from the table. "You should go to bed. It’s Tuesday." Summer snorted but it sounded off. "Since when are you the responsible grandparent?"

"I‘m not." His gaze locked on the TV again and he knocked back a sip or two of liquor. "Just thought I get one night free of my annoying grandkids." Ouch. Rick delivered both praise and insults in the same gruff tone - not that he had many kind words to spare, save for Beth when he needed to get his way. "What do you need them for? Can’t you just get, yknow, earth crystals?" Rick belched after a deep gulp from the bottle and dismissively waved his free hand in Summer‘s general direction. "Don’t think about it. Do me- just do us a solid; go back to bed, Summer." Rick expected a bit of huffing and a snarky comment before Summer relented and went back upstairs but he saw her unmoving in his peripheral vision. Summer stared down at the couch cushion‘s seam as if it told her whatever kind of questions were important to a girl her age. Probably if that one guy in school liked her or not. Her fingers rubbed over a stain that looked like red wine her mother spilled last Christmas. "I don’t want to. It’s not like I can go back to sleep anyway. Not- It‘s not because of the dream or anything. Just-" Summer stumbled over her words to find any excuse that would save her the embarrassment of admitting she was a little scared to go back to sleep again. She bit the inside of her cheek when Rick cut her off with a long groan. "You really are Jerry‘s kid. You‘re- Y-You know dreams are just- bullshit hallucinatory experiences aaaaall the way up the hippocampus? It’s not- It’s imaginary, Summer. Just your dummy ape brain processing a bunch of shit while you’re asleep." Rick‘s tone was agitated while he gesticulated but he still scooted closer to the left, ultimately creating more space on the couch. Summer didn’t know where dreams came from, she wasn’t interested in it either but she silently rounded the couch to sit down next to her grandfather. Being this close, she would smell the faint whiskey breath and the Old Spice lingering around her. It was nice for once, calming even. "You know, I‘m not staying because I’m scared because that’s totally lame." Rick just grunted in some kind of indifferent agreement but Summer felt the need to clarify her decision even more. "I mean, it’s just a dream. I‘m not a loser like Morty. I don’t piss my own bed. That‘d be totally— gross." Summer turned back to Rick, fully expecting him to not even pay her any mind but when they locked eyes Summer finally shut her mouth. She never saw a look like this one on Rick‘s face. Not even around Morty - who was quite obviously his favorite grandchild and Summer reminded herself that she didn’t care about that.

Right now Rick‘s withered features looked almost soft even though the hard lines on his face didn’t even out at all. Maybe his resting face just looked mean like that - maybe he was frowning for so long that it became the default for Rick. But still, he looked almost fatherly. Summer‘s pathetic little attempt to look tough in front of the most powerful man she knew stirred something dead in his ribcage.

He remembered a tiny Beth sneaking into their old kitchen where Rick was fixing a leak in the sink. A single glance at his wrist watch told him it was time for Beth‘s nap because if Diane didn’t make her take one Beth would be tired and grumpy all evening. He tried to shoo her back to her room but only got a tantrum out of his daughter until he reluctantly set his task aside and laid down on the living room couch with Beth resting on his chest until Diane came back with their groceries.

"Yeah, sure. What - uhrp - Whatever." Rick looked back at the TV and Summer fell into his silence, her back sinking into the soft cushions. She barely followed the plot of whatever Rick was watching. It looked like some 70s war movie with bad explosions and subpar camera quality. Rick didn’t seem to be the type for nostalgia so it probably just happened to be on at this time of night. The dull colors made her lashes feel heavy again and she let her eyes roam the coffee table Rick still used as his footrest. The cube laid by his foot, forgotten until Rick needed to purify his drugs alien crystals. The whisky bottled left a wet little spot on the wood that she knew Rick wouldn’t wipe away. Jerry wanted to replace the table for a week now. Morty‘s latest comics were scattered on the other side of the table. He always left them in the living room because the idiot just has to get distracted two pages in. An unfamiliar pack of Newport Reds Non-Menthol caught her eye and Summer took a quick glance at Rick. If he noticed, he ignored it. Rick did always have the remnants of cigarette smoke on him but Summer never seen him with one before. There was probably a lot that Summer didn‘t know about her grandpa. She wondered how much her mom really knew about him.

The movie crept close to its finale when a warm weight sank onto Rick‘s thigh. He lowered the bottle from his chapped lips to find soft ginger hair draped over his khaki pants. He went still for a moment with his granddaughter‘s head on his lap. This was territory he hadn’t wet his toes in for decades. Rick wasn’t a stranger to the warmth of another body but this was tender and innocent, enough to take him back in time. He downed the last of his whiskey in one gulp and indulged in the hot rush that followed. The credits rolled on the screen while the bottle neck dangled from his bony fingers.

"How drunk are you right now?"

Rick hummed as if he was doing the math in his head before answering. "Wasted." He put the empty bottle on the fuzzy carpet and shimmied his feet off the table without disturbing Summer in her position. Not that he would admit that.

"So in the morning this didn’t happen?"

Rick took his sweet ass time eyeing Summer and weighing out an answer before he gave a low "yeah, Sum-Sum" and looking back at whatever commercial was on. If Rick ever was good at anything it had to be pretending. He could pretend for Summer just this once too.

#rick and morty #summer smith #rick sanchez #fluff #tw alochol

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izumi-fanclub · 3 years

Text

A3! Translation: Chikage SSR Card “Tailor-Made” [Suit of Your Choice]

Chikage asks director for a consultation only she could do in the company, which helps him prepare for a special dinner outing...

Chikage

(I finished my work in this city successfully. I’ll be able to go back home to the dorm by the end of today as planned.)

(This should keep me from going on business trips for a while, but other than that my schedule is pretty much the same as usual.)

Fuu.

(Come to think of it, it’s almost that day...)

(I cleared up my business trips early for that day, so work won’t be a problem.)

-- Phone Rings --

A call at this time of day...

I only have a bad feeling about this.

Thank you for your hardwork, this is Utsuki speaking.

Boss

“Good morning. Thank you for going on this business trip. Did you encounter any problems?”

Chikage

It went smoothly thanks to you. Is something the matter?

Boss

“No, I have an urgent request over here. You’re supposed to be coming back home today, right, Utsuki?”

Chikage

Yes, just as planned.

Boss

“In that case, why don’t you go to the next business meeting for me?”

Chikage

(Now why in the world would I do that? … )

Chikage

Sure, I don’t mind....

Did something happen?

Boss

“Actually, the president of our partner company changed recently. The predecessor's daughter became appointed as the representative director.”

“Utsuki, I think you’ve met her before, haven’t you?”

Chikage

Oh, uh...

(You mean that woman who was overly friendly with me because she’s got a specific thing for tall men who wear glasses that look good in suits?)

Boss

“I think it’ll definitely work better if you’re in charge of that from now on, now that that young lady is at the top.”

Chikage

..…... I see.

(Well, I don’t feel like riding on this idea, but since I have no choice, I’m prepared to go forward with it.)

Chikage

I understand. If that’s the case, I’ll take care of it.

Boss

“Sorry about that. By the way, the scheduled date is...”

Chikage

…............

…... Understood.

Izumi

Hmm.... It’s finally over!

Chikage

Good work, director.

Izumi

Woah, Chikage-san!

When did you get here?

Chikage

I saw you working hard on your paperwork. Why don’t you take a break and drink some coffee?

Izumi

Thank you very much, I’ll have some.

Chikage

Speaking of which... there’s some sweets you can also have. If you want any.

Izumi

Are you sure?

Chikage

Why of course.

Izumi

(Talk about top notch customer service! What’s up with him being this nice...)

…. ! These are really good!

I already feel my fatigue fading away because of its gentle and subtle sweetness.

Chikage

That’s a relief. If the director likes it that much, then it’s all good.

Izumi

….. Alright, Chikage-san, did you need something from me, by any chance?

Chikage

Haha, no need to be so suspicious of me.

I just wanted to hear the director’s opinion.

Izumi

Opinion?

Is it a gift for someone?

Chikage

Yes, since our business partner’s a woman, I figured hearing what director had to say would help.

Izumi

So that’s what’s up. Why didn’t you just say so?

Chikage

Sorry, sorry.

Ah, director, there’s one more thing I need to ask of you.

It’s got something to do with what I said earlier....

Izumi

….........?

(Part 2)

Chikage

There are more people here than I expected.

Guess it can’t be helped since it’s a holiday.

Izumi

Yeah, I think so too.

(I wonder what he’s going to ask me about, though...)

(I never would have thought that Chikage-san would ask me to go look at suits together with him.)

-- Flashback --

Izumi

--A suit?

Chikage

Yup.

I’m thinking of getting a new one.

Izumi

But Chikage-san, what’s so special in buying more of them if you already own a few?

Chikage

The woman I talked about earlier,

She's someone who’s very particular about suits.

It’s also a greeting to her as the new person in charge, so I wanted to make a quick decision about it.

Izumi

Huh...

Sounds like someone’s really into it.

Chikage

On the contrary, it’s not something I’m too happy about either....

Actually, I was planning to have dinner out with the Spring Troupe that day.

Izumi

Ooh, sounds good! But it shouldn’t matter since it’s at night, right....

Chikage

No, with the people I have to meet, you’d be surprised at how difficult they are to talk to. The first day I visited that company, I wasn’t able to come home on time.

So, to be honest, I don’t think I’ll be able to leave early either.... I don’t think I could get out of there any time soon, but I’ll do what I can.

Izumi

So, we’re gonna get you a new suit?

Chikage

Yup. The strategy is to get the other side to like you, make them match your pace, and to finally bring an end to the conversation quickly.

Izumi

I see.

Chikage

That’s why I want the director to look at the suits with me from a woman’s perspective.

Izumi

Alright, if that’s the case, I’ll do my best to help you out!

Chikage

Thanks, your help’s much appreciated.

-- End of flashback --

Chikage

-- Aah, this is it.

Here we are, director.

Izumi

Y, yeah!

(The atmosphere of this shop is so overwhelming...!

I feel so nervous and I’m not even buying anything.)

Chikage

Let’s go inside then.

Izumi

(It’s incredible to see so many suits lined up like this...! And they all look so high-class, even a layman like me would know...)

Chikage

…. Is the counter over there?

Izumi

Wait, Chikage-san.

Didn’t you come here to choose a suit?

Chikage

Since the woman from the other company’s got this extraordinary interest in men’s suits. I’m going to ask them to make a suit that’s perfectly tailored to my body this time.

Excuse me.

Tailor

Welcome.

Chikage

I’m Utsuki, the one you spoke to on the phone the other day.

Tailor

Utsuki-sama, we have been waiting for you. Now, may I ask you something here?

Chikage

Understood, please lead the way.

Tailor

You can choose which fabric you want over here.

Chikage

….. I see.

Izumi

(Chikage-san, you’re a natural at this, have you ordered a suit here before?)

Chikage

Izumi-san, can I have a word with you?

Izumi

Eh, me?

A, alright!

Chikage

Which fabric would you like this to be in?

Izumi

The fabric? Hm, let’s see. Do you think this would look good on you, Chikage-san...?

Chikage

Well then, this one over here please.

Tailor

Understood, sir.

…...... It’s nice to wear something that your partner has picked out for you.

Izumi

Partner...!?

Chikage

Haha, that’s right. If I think about how it’s something that she chose for me, I’ll be able to work harder.

Right, Izumi-san?

Izumi

(Ah, I’m being played with again...!)

(Part 3)

Izumi

…... Chikage-san, he should be here by now.

Guy

Ah, I just received word of him stating that he’s on his way.

Izumi

(I hope today’s business meeting went well.)

Juza

….. !

He just got here, I think.

Guy

Speak of the devil.

Welcome.

Chikage

Thanks. Is Juza helping out at Guy’s place? That’s rare.

Juza

Just ‘cuz I heard Chikage-san was coming here tonight. That suit looks really cool on you.

Guy

You’re right, it does look good on him. A fully tailored suit is different from the norm after all.

Chikage

Thank you very much.

Come to think of it, Juza’s working part-time at that shop right now, right?

Juza

Yeah. I’ve been working behind the scenes in the background but I’m getting better.

Chikage

Guy, you also went to that shop I suggested from what I recall. Please let me have a look at your shoes and semi-custom suit when they’re done.

Guy

Mhm.

Izumi

Chikage-san, welcome back!

How did your business meeting go?

Chikage

I’m back.

Thanks to you, the other party liked it a lot.

The suit was pretty much well received. Because of this, our interactions will go smoothly in the future.

Izumi

That’s good to hear.

Chikage

All thanks to the director.

[ Option 1: That’s not true ]

Izumi

That’s not true, I’m pretty much an amateur when it comes to suit fabrics.

Chikage

No, If I can get a trustworthy partner like director to choose for me then I couldn’t be happier.

Izumi

You’re saying that kind of stuff again...!

Chikage

Haha. But it really helped that you picked for me, thank you.

[ Option 2: It’s different when you wear it. ]

Izumi

I only saw the fabric at the shop, but when you wear it on like this, the vibe’s different again.

Chikage

That’s right. At first glance, it just looks like your regular suit, but there’s many different shapes and patterns.

You'd be surprised at how fast shapes and silhouettes go in and out of fashion.

Izumi

Wow, I didn’t know that! That’s interesting.

Chikage

If you’re that interested, I’ll have the director pick out a suit for me next time too.

Izumi

What? Are you sure? If you ever need another suit, please let me know.

Chikage

Well then, let’s go.

Izumi

Fufu, everyone’s been waiting for you over there.

Sakuya

Chikage-san, welcome back!

Tsuzuru

Ooh, so that’s the suit you were talking about.

As expected of a salaryman, he owns the look....

Masumi

Feels like you’re the only one into it.

Itaru

You call that an example? Good work ig.

Citron

Come on, Chikage, get over here already~

Chikage

Yeah, yeah.

Juza

…..... Spring troupe, you guys were planning to have dinner somewhere else, yeah?

Izumi

Yup. But when I heard Chikage-san’s work just started, I was planning to postpone it cause I didn’t want to force it.

Guy

I suggested that we get together at my restaurant, which could operate at more flexible times, since it was getting late...

I’m glad everyone seems pleased, though.

Izumi

Fufu, pretty much.

Guy

I hope I was able to repay Utsuki for introducing me to a good shop.

Juza

I’ll do my best to help at the restaurant tonight to thank Chikage-san for lending me a suit too.

Citron

Chikage, wear the tie around your head!

Tsuzuru

Yeah, no, not with the drip on that suit.

Sakuya

But Chikage-san, you’re really owning up to the look! You look really cool!

Masumi

I’ll make sure to wear something like that soon enough.

Itaru

So you’re admitting that you think he looks good in it.

Chikage

I get it, I get it. You can all stop talking about my suit now.

Izumi

(Chikage-san, you say that but you don’t look like you’re gloating at all, I’m getting used to your facial expressions more and more.)

Chikage

What is it, director?

Izumi

No, it’s nothing.

Story Clear!

#a3 #a3!#a3 card translation #a3! card translation #chikage utsuki #guy #gai nishiki #juza hyodo #sakuya sakuma #masumi usui #tsuzuru minagi #citron #itaru chigasaki #spring troupe #harugumi #a3! translation

110 notes · View notes

waithyuck · 3 years

Text

melody

pairing: siren!park jisung x reader (f) *halloweenie special*

genre: supernatural au, angst ?? ig ??

word count: 2k

warnings: borderline/full on obsessive behavior (by the reader), some kissin but nothing explicit yk, mental instability, descriptions of drowning/death, hey uh major character death !!

a/n: I’m sorry lmao (also sorry for the long ass wait, it’s been a rough one out here lads), also of course there’s no smut in this!!! *cue me preparing for this to not do well* UNEDITED

< previous | next >

~12/03/2020~ YIKES

~~~~

it was fairly common for you to stay up until the early hours of the morning for no reason. sometimes you’d even make it to see the sunrise before actually falling asleep, only to wake four hours later to get up for the day. it seemed like your body didn’t require much to sleep to be able to run, and you didn’t know if you were grateful or resentful for that.

tonight was the same as many; you were casually laying in your bed scrolling through your phone, enjoying the quietness that ran through your entire small apartment building.

usually, there would be the hustle and bustle of the day echoing throughout the walls, but considering it was about four in the morning, there was no one awake to create that common noise.

you were obviously minding your own business when you heard the sound of muffled singing start through the wall next to you, accompanied by the rush of the running shower. at first your brain couldn't process what you were hearing, but then you figured out it was just your new next door neighbor, park jisung.

jisung was undoubtedly one of the most handsome young men you had ever seen, and upon meeting him for the first time you found it hard to keep that thought to yourself. you managed to quiet your racing through you, but still ogled at him as he introduced himself for the first time to you.

he was young, around the same age as you. it baffled you that he was able to love out on his own at such a young age, and be financially sound enough to not have any roommates. you didn’t question him though, and made the decision to keep your distance from him just in case you couldn’t keep your mouth shut the next time you were face to face.

well, that didn’t work out for you.

of course every time you left your apartment you seemed to bump into him, and after a while you two became familiar with each other. he acted pretty bashful around you and you couldn’t deny that you were also a little shy, but it really felt like the two of you had some sort of underlying connection.

you developed a crush on him, and you were pretty sure he liked you too, but you were too much of a scaredy cat to do anything about it. you both would often strike up conversations when you’d see each other in the hallways of your apartment building, always smiling and giggling in each other's presence.

even after a few months of knowing each other, (and months of you destroying your sleep schedule) you had never once heard him sing; the honey-like deep tone of his voice had you almost in a trance. it was sickly sweet, dripping with talent and you found yourself unable to think straight as you stood suddenly from your bed, walking like a zombie out of your bedroom and to the front door.

your heart was pounding in your chest and blood was rushing in your ears as you flung your door open carelessly and trudged out into the hall, swinging a sharp left immediately to situate yourself before the angelic boy’s door.

you, now seemingly completely out of your mind all of the sudden, frantically clawed at the wood of his door, banging and scratching like it as four in the morning. you could slightly hear the sounds of rustling coming from the apartment beyond the door, and you felt your heart leap at the prospect of jisung coming closer to you.

“park jisunnggggg,” you whined out lazily, your words slurred as you leaned against the door. “hmmmm, jisungieeeee,” you drew out as soon as he opened the door, a towel wrapped around his neck and a confused expression adorning his handsome face. you stumbled forward slightly, the door now not there to support your ragdoll like body. you fell into him and he hurriedly tried to steady you, his hands gripping your shoulders and then your waist as you slumped onto him for support.

“y/n?” he questioned quietly, trying his best to steady you onto your feet. “what are you doing? It’s four in the morning--”

“you never told me you could sing,” you cut him off, giggling loudly as your eyes looked up at him from where your head was now perched on his shoulder. you were too far gone (something that your brain wasn’t even questioning, therefore you felt absolutely zero alarm from the way you were acting), to register the change in his eyes, from confusion to pure dread as he stared at you.

“wait,” his eyes grew wide as he spoke, and your heart practically melted as you swooned at the color of them, which were unusually royal blue instead of his normal brown. “you heard me sing???”

he was clearly panicking, but your mind was so hazy that all you could do was stupidly smile at him, picking your head up and leaning in close to try and pick up the scent of his shampoo.

“mmm yeah,” you mumbled, your head falling onto his shoulder once again as he tried to keep you upright. “you’re so good at singing...like an angel.”

it was like you were drunk on him now, your body and brain not able to control themselves properly in his heavenly presence. his hands were fumbling awkwardly on your waist and you giggled at the contact, his large, warm hands somehow brushing up your shirt and against your skin.

you felt his chest rattle against you as he let out a shaky breath.

“fuck,” he muttered, gripping your skin as he pulled you abruptly into his apartment, quickly closing the door and locking it as best he could with a singular hand before gently guiding you to sit on his sofa.

you happily followed him as he maneuvered your body to rest on the couch, your brain feeling like it was in the clouds as he frantically paced back and forth before you.

“is there something wrong, jisung?” you questioned softly, a dumb smile still on your face as you sat back aginast the cushions behind you.

jisung stopped before you and stared down at you, his deep royal blue eyes causing your heart to flutter, and all you wanted to do was get as close to him as physically possible in that moment.

when he didn’t speak, you sat up straight, preparing to stand and get close to him, but he stopped you with his own body finding its way to rest right before yours.

“just,” he grunted frustratedly, placing his hands on your shoulders. “stay there, y/n.”

you pouted up at him, but reeled at the feeling of hands on your shoulders. “I wanna kiss you so bad, jisung.” you whined out, your conscious mind completely overtaken with the need to kiss him, hug him, devote yourself to him.

you could see his facial expression clearly, even in the dimly lit living room. he looked to be fighting with himself regarding his feelings toward you.

truth be told, jisung really wanted to kiss you too. but this situation...it felt wrong. his voice had done something to you; it called out to you, putting you in an intoxicated trance, and now he wasn’t sure what to do.

you would kill others trying to be by his side. you would kill yourself. it was that serious.

jisung suddenly sat down beside you, his expression void of emotion as he stared at you, your eyes sparkling at the close proximity of his body to yours. you didn’t hesitate to lean in to capture his lips without even asking, but hesitated when his hands met your waist for the second time that night.

“one kiss.” he said sternly, swallowing heavily as he looked at you. “only one.”

you were disappointed, but nonetheless took what you could get and gently met his lips with your own.

his lips were plush and soft as they moved with your own, and you sighed contently into the kiss as it progressed. it didn’t deepen like you were hoping, and after a minute or two of soft kisses, he pulled away.

your heart ached to feel more of him, and you were ready to cry when he stood up and distanced himself from you.

when he began to silently walk down his hallway, you were ready to pounce up and follow him like a dog, but he seemed to already predict your actions.

“stay,” he demanded, looking over his shoulder at you. “just...stay.” he sounded almost solemn, but there was still a slight void of emotion in his tone, like he had been through this exact situation many times before.

you poured but listened to him, busying yourself by looking around the room, not even noticing the light sounds of the bathtub being filled down the hall in the bathroom where jisung now found himself.

it wasn’t long before he called out to you from down the hall as he made his way back to the living room.

“hey y/n?” jisung called from the hall, immediately making your head snap in his direction.

“yes? do you need something?” you were frantic to reply, your head spinning with the need to make him happy. he shook his head no, a blank look in his eyes as he stared back at you.

“no, no I don’t need anything.” he deeply retorted, wringing his hands. “I drew a bath for you, if you wanna hop in.”

surprise etched onto your features at the kind gesture, but you nonetheless were grateful and instantly shot up to make your way to the bathroom with him.

you’d probably do anything he asked you to do, even if it was as simple as getting in the bathtub.

you didn’t really notice him shutting the door and locking it behind him, and you had barely been able to try to take off your clothes before he had shoved you into the tub roughly, causing you to knock your head on the side.

you panicked, not understanding why all the sudden he would treat you like this, and you struggled as he grabbed a hold of you tightly and flipped you onto your back in the water, looking into your eyes one last time.

“this is for your own good, y/n.” he said, voice breaking. you stared up at him, your eyes seemingly shaking as tears formed. “this is no way for you to live.”

with those final words, he shoved you beneath the water, his strength overpowering yours as you screamed in protest, bubbles the only indication you were making any noise at all. you squirmed and tried to fight, but you couldn’t escape from his hold. he looked away from you entirely, not wanting to see your face as you tried to save your own life.

your lungs burned and you closed your eyes, your vision fading out anyway. your struggles grew weak as you were effectively drowning, your last breath escaping you as it finally all faded to black.

jisung sniffled, finally letting go of your limp body to wipe away the tears that escaped his eyes. he never wanted this to happen. deep down he knew that it was for the best; you would have never been able to live without him after hearing his cursed voice.

with one final glance at you he stood, unlocking the bathroom door and walking out to figure out how he was gonna deal with this mess he had created for himself.

131 notes · View notes

agentsoftie · 4 years

Text

stitches and ditches

summary: y/n and spencer get in a fight. due to the fight y/n goes to the hospital where she gets taken. spencer has to find her before it’s to late

a/n: plot holes. plot holes everywhere. so i’m sorry for that, super sorry. also like i don’t really know how to write fight scene and stuff ig so sorry if it sucks. and i skipped like 3 classes for this, so don’t let it flop

warnings: fight, angry spencer, torture, a case, violent spencer (idrk what to call it) and whole lotta angst. i happy ending though! kinda, idrk

word count & pairing: spencer x (fem) reader & 4.1k

remember to like and reblog!!

It all started the day he came home from work. This was one of the longest trips he’d been on so you decided to make him his favorite. Pumpkin Pie. And god knows how hard it is to make pie, but you did it anyways, for him. It wasn't too late when he got home but It wasn't too early either. More like the time right after dinner and just before dessert. You had just got the pie out of the oven when you heard the door open and someone walk in.

“Spencer! Finally you’re home! How are you!” You said while he put his bag away. He didn't turn to look at you yet which was kinda weird since the first thing he does when he gets home is kiss you right on the lips. “Fine,” He mumbled while sitting down at the table still not looking at you. “Spencer, come on what’s wrong?” You asked while grabbing his hands, but he immediately retracted. Which made sense because of who he was, but you’re not gonna admit that it didn't hurt. “Nothing Y/N.”

You knew that something was wrong, and it didn't take a profiler to see that. Everything about him was just off. “Come on, it's me. You can tell me anything.”

“Y/N.” Spencer said in a deep tone. You’d never heard him like this or seen in that sense. He was always happy to see you, to be with you. And were with his too. “Spencer no, come on. I can see that you’re clearly not fine. So come on, open up.”

“Y/N I said I’m fine!” You were appalled. He had never raised his voice at you, but it was bound to happen one day, you just. You just were shocked. “Spencer,” You said in a low voice completely contradicting his loud yell. “What!”

“Spencer calm down!” You say yelling at him. Although you realized that yelling at someone to calm down probably wasn't the best way to do it.

“No Y/N, you need to just stop and shut up!” Shut up. That’s the first time he’s ever told you to shut up. Infact, you think it's the first time he’s ever told anyone to shut up.

“Spencer just talk to me! It’s not that fucking hard!”

“No Y/N it is. It's tremendously hard and you just wouldn't understand.”

“Just tell me. And I'll see if I understand. But don't just gatekeep your emotions and feelings.”

“Y/N I said no! Why cant you listen to simple fucking directions! It’s not that fucking hard!” Each and every time he yelled at you, it's like your heart physically broke. And you could feel it breaking. But how do you tell him to stop? All you wanted was to know how he feels. Was that really so hard?

“Spencer why the hell are you acting like this! I understand that your job is hard but that doesn't mean that you can pour all your anger out on me! And if you are gonna do that, you can at least do the kind thing and share how you feel! And what's wrong! I mean, is that really so much to ask!”

“Oh really, that's how you wanna play this! You think this is just a little game don’t you!”

“Game Spencer! You think I play this as a game! Well this game is my life!” You were drop dead angered at this point. “What in the world gives you the right to act like this! Please, explain!” All he does is scoff at you. “I'm not joking Spencer! Why the hell are you acting like this! You've changed!”

“Oh I’ve changed! Y/N you've changed! You're always trying to kiss up my ass! I mean jesus! All you want is money! Like god!”

“Oh I want money! Spencer! I don't need your pathetic money! It may not have dawned on you since you couldn't bother to care, but I make a good amount of money. Yeah, you’re not the only one who paid for this place. So stop acting like you are.”

“Oh wow! Haha, you sick son of a,” He stopped immediately after realizing what exactly he was saying.

“Say it Spencer! Finish the goddamn sentence!”

“Y/N, you know I wont.” He says in a shift of tone. Still equally as affecting though.

“Why? Huh? You've already said so much, just wrap it up with a nice little red bow on top!”

“Y/N, stop,” He said, his tone getting more and more demeaning by the second.

“Do it Spencer! Do it!”

“Goddamn it Y/N I said stop!!” He yelled before throwing a glass at the wall behind you. You both immediately shut up, as trying to process what just had happened. Did he actually just try to hurt you? No, Spencer would never do that. Would he? You touched the back of your head and felt blood on your ear. You looked down at the blood and Spencer walked towards you but all you did was pull back from his touch.

“Don’t,” You mutter in fright. Putting your hands up against his chest, but not touching. His eyes looked at you as if they were trying to say something but just couldn't. You grabbed your purse, keys, phone, a coat, and slipped into some shoes. “Y/N, where are you going?”

“To the clinic or hospital or whichevers open right now. To get this checked out and stitched up.”

“Y/N, come on just stay here. I can stitch it up. I can do everything. Just dont leave. Im sorry, okay. I- I don't know why I did that. I promise I didn't mean too.” He begs and pleads but you just can't say with him tonight. No, not tonight. Tonight was too bad, tonight was a dent that was not going to be fixed.

“I just can't, Spencer. Okay, not tonight. There’s some pasta in the fridge, and I love you… I guess.” And with that you got in your car and left leaving Spencer to just sit in his own tears. He just sat at the table thinking of everything he did wrong. Everything that went wrong. And the worst part is that absolutely nothing wrong or bad happened at work today. He was just exhausted, that's all. And instead of telling his girlfriend, he started a fight. And he knew that you were in the right, for everything.

“Hi, Y/N. I’m Dr. Michael Gray. And it looks like something happened to your ear.” He says while standing at the door.

“Oh hi! Haha. And um… I thought that nurses were supposed to, you know, stitch up stitches.”

“Oh yeah, well they are. But you’re just so gorgeous I pass up the offer.”

“Oh, haha,” You say, not knowing how to feel. Although there was one thing you knew, and that was that this was uncomfortable as hell. “Well, I mean I do have a boyfriend.” You said just so he wouldn't try to make any moves.

“Oh well hey! Do you have any siblings or friends? I'm fine with absolutely anyone and everyone.” He says while disinfecting your ear and pulling the glass out.

“You’re Pan?” You ask to distract yourself from the pain.

“Yeah. You’re not gonna request another doctor now right?” He asks while carefully taking out the glass and putting it on a white napkin in front of you. That was a big piece.

“No, of course not!” You say in offence. “How could you ever think that.”

“It happens a lot with people. Especially the pretty ones. They automatically get turned off when I tell them I like everyone. I don't care about your gender, just your personality and how you treat me.”

“Oh well I would never. And it sucks that-that happens.”

“Yeah. Okay, so here comes the fun part. Hey, how did you even get these stitches? Or, why do you need them? Like how did you get to this point?” He says while slowly stitching up your ear.

“Ha, I get it. You’re just fine. And all of this is due to my boyfriend.” You say in pain.

“Wait,” He stops doing what he’s doing and just stands there. “Your boyfriend did this?”

“Yes. And before you say anything else, I am not in an abusive relationship. Okay, he just had a bad day and I guess I made it even worse. And trust me, he didn't mean to do it.” You say as he finishes stitching up your ear.

“Do you have a place to stay tonight?” He asks while pouring out a liquid into a small cup.

“No.”

“Then, come stay with me. At my place. And here drink this, it’ll help with the pain. A lot.”

He says while giving you a small cup filled with what looked like to be a crushed up powder poorly mixed in with water. Or whatever that the liquid was.

“Oh no. We just met.” You spoke before drinking it.

“You got anywhere better to stay? Plus my shift ends in 5 so it would be the most practical decision.”

You knew that it was wrong. After everything that Spencer had told you. But for some reason you still went. Even though you knew you should have gone back home to Spencer. And god knows what he was doing right now. But you couldn't just let your pride fall and go home. That would be pathetic. “You know what, okay! I mean what the hell! You seem nice and I’m not in the mood to face him again. Or at least for now.”

“Sweet!”

“Just one question… are you gonna kill me?” It was a stupid question to ask, you know. But after everything that Spencer and his family have been through. And with what happened to haley, you just couldn't help but to ask.

“No Y/N, I’m not gonna kill you. Now come on, let me get logged out and let's leave this place. Oh and Y/N, you can call me Michael.” He says while taking off his lab coat.

“Okay Michael.”

He brought you into his car and the drive to his place felt like hours. Although you really couldn't remember most of it since you passed out a quarter way through. The last thing you do remember is him putting his hand on your thigh and looking over at you with a smirk.

It had been 3 days. 3 days since you left to get your ear stitched up. 3 days since Spencer had last seen you. Since you had seen him. Or any of your friends. 3 days since you left your life. In those 3 days, Spencer completely lost himself. All of the books were on the floor. The bed was an absolute mess. And the kitchen was left just as it was the night it happened. He, himself, was a mess. His hair had not been brushed. He was still wearing the same clothes. And he’d been surviving on coffee and granola bars.

“Guys, we got a new case, come on.” Penelope chimes as they all do paper work. Spencer can’t help but look at his phone every 2 minutes just waiting for a text or call or any sign of life and/or love.

“What’s wrong pretty boy?” Derek asks.

“Yeah, you've been acting tense lately.” JJ adds.

“Nothing, It’s just Y/N,” He gruffs.

“Do I smell relationship problems,” Derek says jokingly.

“Derek!” JJ scoffs. “What's wrong Spence?”

“Nothing I just… Look, something happened, and now she’s not answering any of my text and calls, and I'm starting to get worried. That's really all there is.”

“Well what happened exactly? To you know, make her leave I guess.” JJ asks.

“Um, we had an argument. A pretty bad one. I came home after the case. The Checkersfeild one. And um, I was just tired. And instead of telling her that, I got super mad and said some things that I regret. And also did a thing I regret. A lot. And I would explain everything to her if she answered whenever I called or texted but she didn't.”

“How bad was the argument?” She asks again.

“Pretty bad. It was our first, but it was really bad. Just words coming and pouring out.”

“Spencer, how long have you and Y/N been dating?” Derek asks in shock at the fact that he just said ‘first argument’.

“2 and half years now.”

“And you two have never fought? What's this secret that you're keeping from me.”

“Well you know, we had our mutual disagreements. And sometimes we argued a little but it was small and it lasted for like an hour. And right after we would apologize and everything would be okay. It would all be fine.” Spencer said, his voice got longer and slower as the words went on.

“Wow, um… Spencer. You really love her, don't you.” Derek asked.

“Yeah. I really do, don't I.” Spencer says while walking into the briefing room.

As everyone sat down Derek couldn’t help but to keep looking at him. He knew that Spencer was hiding something, he just didn't know what. Or how to figure it out.

“Okay everyone this is Isabella Stines. The latest victim of our new unsub. Police are calling him The Ditcher. Since, as you can see, they leave the body in ditches after what looks like hours and hours of tourture. 5 other people were found too. First was Mindy Kindle, then Jake Johnson. Next, Rosé Hinnings, then we have Jennifer Gordon. And last, and hopefully least, Kross Noing. The ‘K’ is silent.” Penelope says while everyone looks down at the picture of the crime scenes and blood smeared across the screen.

“Do they have anything in common?” Spencer asks just before his phone starts ringing. He immediately picks it up even though the rule that Hotch made up states that you can't answer phones when you’re in the briefing room getting briefed for a new case. “Y/N.” Spencer asks, not knowing who this was since he didn't have enough time to look at the caller ID. “No, this is Sharron Richard, her boss. She hasn't shown up to work for these past days and we’re getting worried. She has a case coming up and this is a big one for her. We’ve been trying to contact her, but she’s not answering. So we called you since she left you as her backup or whatever you call it. So, have you seen or heard from her?” Sharron asks over the phone.

“Um no I- I haven't.” Spencer mutters through the phone so no one except Sharron could hear it. Although that failed miserably.

“Oh, okay. Well if you hear from her, or see her anytime soon. Please tell her to contact us.” And with that the phone was hung up.

“Pretty boy what was that?” Derek asks.

“Uh, nothing. Just a call from Y/N’s work. Apparently she’s been missing. Although you already knew that so…” Spencer said while looking down at his phone more time, then putting it away. Everyone just gave him this weird look of dissatisfaction.

“Okay anyway, yes there are some similarities. And luckily, all of these are taking place here so you guys won't be flying out anywhere! Or wait, isn't that a bad thing?” Penelope exclaims.

“Garcia,” Hotch says in his natural stearn and damning voice.

“Sorry boss. Anyways, The ME found traces of propofol and thiopental in each of their systems. For those of you who don't know what that is, it's basically a drug that doctors use to get patients into a coma before surgeries and/or if it's needed medically.”

“So only doctors would have access to it?” Emily asks.

“Over here in Virginia, yes. There are no stores that sell it here due to too many people ODing.” Spencer answers. “Garcia, did the ME find any signs of sexual assault?”

“No they did not. Looks like it was just tourture.”

“Hey Garcia, did they have anything else in common?” Emily asks.

“Yeah check this out. Each of the victims have a medical visit to “The Charleston Hospital” the night before dying. Or getting captured at least. And, it looks like each of them came in after what looked like an action of abuse. It was hard to spot but luckily the bill got it.”

“Okay, thank you Garcia. JJ, Prentiss, come with me. We’re going to the crime scene. Rossi, you go to the ME. Morgan and Reid stay here and try to find some things and connections. And Garcia, you just do what you do best.” Hotch says while getting up.

Everyone was gone from the briefing room except for Garcia who was taking down some files, and Spencer, who was looking at the file. But one part in particular. Could it have happened. No, it couldnr have. Could it?

“Hey Garcia?” He asked.

“Yes sugar,”

“Can I get something?”

“Why of course, what is it that you need?”

“Um, I need records and security tapes.”

“Come with me my sweet child.” She says while walking out the door and into her office, or as she likes to call it, batcave.

“Okay here are the records for-” She got cut off by a frantic Spencer.

“No, not for them, but for Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Your girlfriend?” She asks.

“Yes, my girlfriend.”

“Um, okay. So yeah. It looks like she went to Charleston um about 3 nights ago for some stitches.”

“And the security tapes. From that night. Can you see where she went? Or if she got in her car?”

“You doubt me. Don't doubt me. Okay so here. It looks like she got into this car. But, it looks like there is someone with her. Im sorry Spencer.”

“Don't be. Just, what’s the licence plate numbers?”

“Um, 56HI90ZC3. Spencer, if you want, we can talk about it.” She says in a soft tone. Thinking that his girlfriend would be cheating on one of her friends.

“No not now. I just need you to track that car, can you do that?”

“Done. Okay so it looks like the last time the car was spotted was here, Cherry Ann Avenue. It looks like they took a turn in this field, and that's all.”

“Great, I need you to contact Hotch and Rossi, and tell them that we got the guy.”

“On it. But, hey do you wanna talk about it?”

“Garcia, we don't have any time. Someone I love is in danger and I don't wanna waste a single second.”

You woke up to the smell of blood, the sound of crickets, and a gut wrenching pain, everywhere across your body.. Crickets everywhere. You looked down to see many cuts. Cuts all over your body, everywhere. And in one place, you swear you saw a knife. What had happened? How long was I out? You tried to remember everything but all you could was getting in a fight with Spencer and then getting in a car with a doctor. Or a nurse, or whoever they were.

“Ah, so you're up.” Michael said as he walked up from the shadows behind him.

“Who are you and what do you want?” You say trying your best to back away from him but something ties you down.

“You forgot who I am already. I must have added a little more meds in there for you. Huh, well that's alright. I’m Michael. More professionally, Dr. Michael Gray.” You just sat there trying to hear him over the intense pain you were in. Almost as if you'd been stabbed 100 times, maybe you had, who knows. “You see, your boyfriend was being the abusive piece of shit he is and so now I'm helping you. Helping you get better.”

“You sick bastard. You're not helping me, you're causing me pain.” You say as he gets closer and closer to your face.

“Shut up!!” He says as he slaps you. “I know what I’m doing!! Do you know how many people I’ve put out of misery!!” He yells in your face. You can feel the spit reaching your face as he does this.

“You’ve hurt those people. You've put them through pain. So much pain. Instead, you could have helped them. But this, this is not help, no this is torture, abuse, assult.”

“I SAID SHUT UP!!” He yelled while throwing the metal tray on the table across the room. “YOU KNOW WHAT, MAYBE WHAT YOU'RE PATHETIC LITTLE BOYFRIEND DID TO YOU WAS GOOD. YOU DESERVED IT!! Don't deserve me, or my help!”

You were shocked. You were scared. You were terrified. But you didn't want to admit it. And the sad part is, all he truly wanted to do is help you. But just at that moment you heard sirens. Sirens everywhere, and they got louder and louder until you saw the colors. Flashing up against the brown wooden wall and the shag carpeting on the floor.

Suddenly you heard a loud bang, the door had come down. “Michael Gray!” You heard someone yell. “Michael, we know what you've done, and we know that you’re here!”

“No, this can't be happening. No no no no no. NO!” He yelled in panic. The most stupid thing to do when you’re trying to hide.

Suddenly 3 people came rushing to the room. One of them happened to be your boyfriend. Who ran over to you immediately without any hesitation.

“Hey Y/N, it's me, Spencer. You're gonna be okay.” He said while holding you. All you did was smile and nod. You wanted to tell him that you loved him, but you just couldn't. You were so sore and tired. And all you wanted to do was go to sleep. Even though you knew that you shouldn't have since, well, you know. You would probably die. But you just couldn't help it.

You woke to a bright light. Or multiple in this case. Why was everything so white. White hurts people. You felt a tug to your hand as you saw who was holding it, Spencer. He stayed. And for god knows how long. He was asleep, and you didn't want to wake him. Poor boy looked like he hadn't gotten any sleep for the past week or so. You checked the clock as the time read 10:37pm. Perfect, just the most perfect time to wake up. You tried to grab your phone, but you had to stretch to get it, and you were not doing that.

Spencer, although woke up from your failed attempt at grabbing your phone. “Y/N, you're awake.” He said dreamily with his eyes half shut.

“Hi Spencer.”

Once he truly realized what was going on, he jumped up from his seat and gripped your hand tighter than before. “Y/N baby, how are you? Are you okay?”

“Well, truthfully. No, I am not okay. I mean, I just got tortured for god know how long, and I think I’ve been asleep. But again, I don't know how long. And oh god, I had my case that I’ve been working on for the past 6 months that was supposed to happen and I missed it!” You say as if the world was ending. He just looks at you. No emotion, just stares.

“Y/N it’s okay. I sorted that out, don't worry. You’re just okay. Why did you go with them anyway?”

You don't know how to respond. Do you tell him everything, or tell him nothing at all. Do you leave out some bits? No, he deserves to hear the whole truth. “Spencer, after what happened that night, I was terrified of what was gonna happen if I came home. And my friends were out of town. So I really had no choice.”

“Y/N,” His voice cracked. “I am so sorry for what I did to you. I truly didn't mean to do that, it just happened. And I don't know why.”

“I know.”

“You probably hate me, and I get that. I would hate me too if I were you. I mean, look at what I put you through. I’m so sorry. And I understand if you wanna breakup and stuff. But, I just wanna say that I love you. I truly do.”

“Spencer,” You say while looking down at your hands, then back up. “I don't hate you. I could never hate you. Not after everything you’ve done for me. I love you, I do.”

He just smiled and kissed you on your forehead. “Y/N, you wanna about it?”

“Talk about what?”

“Everything that happened today.”

“Sure, but how about we talk about everything that happened the other day. I mean, I made you pie Spencer, Pie!” He just sat there while you were laughing looking into your eyes. “I love you.” He said. You just smiled and held his hand, “I love you too.”

tagging: @criminalmindsmoodrn, @marshmallowtraver, @ghostly-angelic, and @himarisolace

#criminal minds #spencer reid #reader x spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #mgg x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer #mira writes

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butgilinsky · 4 years

Text

hard decisions // ds

warning; language, mentions of sex ig, angst (i’m so sorry)

summary; you and drew have to come to a decision, even if neither of you like the one you choose.

word count; 3.6k+ of absolute heartbreak

based off of these blurbs that i wrote and keep getting reqs for a part three or a whole ass fic so- i think we knew which one i chose.

i love madelyn, so pls don’t think this reflects my feelings on her bc it doesn’t, i just had to pick a person to get caught in the crossfire

you were starting to regret this dinner. you loved your friends, and you were happy to spend time with them when you weren’t all filming for outer banks or all of your side projects, but it was a less than ideal situation at the moment for you.

you were picking at the nail polish on your fingernails to distract yourself from the conversation playing out at the dinner table. this dinner was a mistake, and coming while you and drew still had unresolved problems between the two of you was a mistake.

you should’ve at least come to a common ground before coming out tonight, or maybe you should’ve just stayed home. it was hard, when some of the people at the table had no idea about the rising tension between you and drew. they’d noticed you two were less touchy and smiley with each other than usual, but they tried not to think too far into it.

the only people that knew the severity of the situation were austin, along with both maddies. one of those reasons being that madelyn was slightly involved in the mess of it, though she didn’t ask to be. madison and austin became your crutch along the way, being the ones you’d turn to when things got messy and you needed a place to stay after your apartment grew to tense.

drew was talking to maddie while you tried to keep your thoughts to yourself and listen to the story austin had been telling. you were trying to block out drew and maddie, truthfully, but you that proved to be hard when he made yet another comment about the top she was wearing.

“can you quit flirting? i’m right here.” you snapped, your eyes burning a hole in the boy beside you. you earned a few glances around the table, and drew looked down at you, practically mortified at your outburst.

“i didn’t mean to-”

“well you did, and it’s annoying as fuck.” his eyes widened, as well as a few across the table while maddie stared at her lap, feeling her shoulders slump at the idea that she was unintentionally causing rifts between you and your boyfriend.

it was unlike you to start a conversation like this in front of all of your friends. you and drew were good at keeping your cool until you got in the car, leaving your friends to believe that nothing was going on just before world war three began on your drive home.

they knew things were off between you two, but you both plastered believable smiles on your faces and tolerated each other long enough to at least make it to the elevator of each building without even making a snide comment.

“can we not do this right now?” his voice lowered, and he spoke through his teeth to try to underplay the anger bubbling inside of him, but you knew you only had to push a little further to get him to give in.

“can you not flirt with my best friend right now?” drew rolled his eyes again, breathing out through his nose before standing up.

“y/n, we’re not doing this right now.” he turned away from you, looking at the less than exciting table cloth in front of him, desperately trying to ignore the gazes on him. you let out a short laugh, making his eyes snap over to you momentarily.

“it’s never the right time to do this, isn’t it?” he sighed heavily, realizing there was no way out of this conversation with you.

“if you want to talk about this now, can we at least go outside?” you scoffed softly but stood up anyways, letting drew apologize to the group while you walked towards the entrance of the restaurant.

he was hot on your heels after apologizing to your friends, forcing a short smile at them waving him off, telling him to go deal with the mess you both made. they whispered about the two of you after you left, but neither of you needed to know that. though, they did find it odd that madelyn didn’t contribute much to the gossip.

“you’re unbelievable you know that? you can’t let it go for one fucking night? what’s wrong with you?” you paused in stride, turning on the balls of your feet to peer up at your boyfriend, who was fuming right in front of you.

“i’m unbelievable? i’m not the one that’s been acting like we aren’t even dating anymore! if you want to be with maddie so bad-”

“for the last fucking time, i don’t want to be with maddie! i don’t know what’s got that so heavily ingrained into your thick skull but i don’t see her like that!” people were trying to ignore the two of you in order to walk into the restaurant, but it was hard when you were so close to the front door, in the middle of the sidewalk.

“could’ve fooled me, drew. anybody with a set of eyes would think that you’re trying to make passes at her.” he groaned loudly again, sending his foot into the brick wall beside the two of you. “you know what, you go back inside and spend time with everyone, i’m going to go home.”

“y/n, don’t do this tonight. this is one of the last times everybody will be in the same place at the same time before we start filming. just come back inside-”

“i don’t want to, drew! i can’t act like we’re fine right now, and i sure as hell don’t want to listen to you talk to maddie all night long. so i’ll see you at home.” part of you wanted him to keep fighting for it. you wanted him to want you to come back inside, but the small part of him that wanted that was outweighed by the part of him that wanted a break from your incessant attitude.

you would’ve felt bad for taking the car, given that you two showed up to dinner together, but you knew maddie would’ve been more than happy to drive drew home, which was just another thing you’d argue about once he got home. drew had half a thought to follow you, go home with you and fix this situation before it progressed, but he ignored the thought and walked back inside of the restaurant.

you cried in the car, punching your steering wheel a few times until your hand started to hurt and you tried to clear your vision. you started your car and drove home, earning a few texts along the way. madison and austin asked if you were okay, given that they were the closest to you out of the group and probably had more insight than the others about the situation you were in.

you sent a quick ‘i’m home, i’m okay’ text to both of them and threw your phone onto the counter before sinking yourself into the couch. you didn’t get to catch the look that the the two of them sent each other across the table, neither of them believing you from the way drew was tense the rest of the dinner.

you sat on the couch, staring at the glass of wine in your hands that you poured over an hour ago and had only taken a few sips from. you had full intentions of drinking it faster than you sat down, but that proved to be difficult with the thoughts running through your mind. you figured alcohol would only make those thoughts harder to think through.

you sighed when a knock on the door echoed off of the walls, placing the glass on the coffee table and standing up. you reached for the handle, but paused, staring at the door in front of you.

“baby, i don’t have my keys.” you sighed gently, the lump in your throat making you hesitate from swinging the door open. “y/n, please.”

you opened the door, watching drew sigh heavily when your eyes met. you turned on your heels and walked away from the door, letting him catch it for himself before he walked inside.

“are we going to settle this?”

“i don’t know, drew. are you going to stop acting like maddie’s your girlfriend just to tell me that it’s nothing and i shouldn’t worry about it?” he groaned loudly, kicking his shoes off by the door.

“y/n, this is getting out of hand. i’m sorry if i’ve crossed a line here and there, but-”

“crossed a line here and there is a bit of an understatement, don’t you think?” he growled softly, hating when you cut him off and didn’t give him room to speak. “you haven’t talked to me like that in weeks, drew! you compliment her every time you see her, you dance with her when we’re out and barely talk to me the whole night. if you want to be with her, drew-”

“you know, y/n, despite the fact that i keep telling you that i don’t want to be with her every single time we have this conversation, you’re sure as hell making me want to be.” he growled at you, standing face to face with you and watching your tough demeanor diminish.

your lips parted, and you tried to say something, anything in response. but you couldn’t. too many thoughts swam through your mind and none of them could break the barrier to actually come out.

“maddie wouldn’t act like this, y/n.”

“i hate you.” it came quickly, and it stayed soft. every crack in your heart that built up over the weeks pouring into the three words.

“no you don’t.” he shook his head, his shoulders slumping. he knew you didn’t mean it, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt him to hear it. you had never said things like that to him. “no you don’t.” he repeated.

you shook your head then, your chest tightening at the situation as a whole. you didn’t know what was going on between the two of you but it needed to end soon, or it would end forever.

“we need to stop doing this, baby.” you nodded, eyes watering at the thought that you’d possibly lose drew forever, sooner than you ever expected.

you had been arguing more in the past few weeks than you had in the entirety of your relationship. you didn’t know what it was, or how things progressed to this point, but you knew that things were tougher than they ever had been.

you knew that every time you saw drew with maddie, your skin crawled. it was hard enough in the group when maddie and chase separated, and you didn’t want to add to that by splitting up from drew. it wasn’t that you wanted to, because you’d convinced yourself that you were going to spend the rest of your life with drew, but if things stayed like this, that didn’t seem likely anymore.

“c’mon, let’s go to bed. we can talk about it in the morning.”

you nodded again, feeling a pair of lips press against your forehead before drew walked around you and towards your bedroom. you turned around, facing the door that he stood in front of.

“come to bed, baby. i’m sorry.” you sighed, eyes glued to your feet as your chest continued to ache.

“not until you apologize.” drew sighed softly, restraining himself from getting angry all over again.

“y/n, i just said i’m fucking sorry.” he caught himself getting angry again and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “i don’t want to fight all night baby, please can we just go to sleep?” you nodded, though you knew you wouldn’t sleep well that night.

and you didn’t. neither of you did, but you weren’t about to find comfort in one another when that was the sole reason you weren’t sleeping well. you’d been in and out of sleep for a few hours when you pushed yourself out of bed completely, throat scratchy and head slightly throbbing.

you walked out of your room, shutting the door behind you in an attempt to muffle any noise you would make in the kitchen, and slightly hoping that drew was sleeping soundly. he wasn’t.

you made coffee, something that you usually did when one of you couldn’t sleep, and despite every bone in your body telling you to sit out there by yourself, you poured drew a cup. you made it the way you knew he would and took it back into the room, seeing him sitting up against the headboard and rubbing at his eyes.

he had a book in his lap, the lamp on his side of the bed switched on. he looked up at you once the door opened, a soft smile creeping onto his lips at the sight of you holding two cups.

you knelt down on the bed and moved to the top of it, handing drew his cup and smiling at the soft ‘thank you’ he offered. you drank most of your cup in silence, letting drew read the chapter in his current novel, before setting an almost empty cup of, now room tempered, coffee on your nightstand.

you sat beside drew, dropping your head on his shoulder and letting out a sigh through your nose. he folding the corner of his page once he finished his paragraph and shut the book, letting it fall onto his lap as a signal that you had his attention - if you wanted it.

“do you think we’re going to make it?” you whispered, picking at the almost nonexistent nail polish on your fingers, despite the fact that you painted them yesterday.

“i don’t know.” he spoke truthfully, which you appreciated, but it tugged at your heart. it hurt to know that the two of you were on the same page of not knowing where this path was leading the two of you. “i hope so.”

“me too.” you said softly, feeling the tears in your eyes come back from hours before.

the sleep deprivation along with the unruly emotions you had put yourself through for the last couple of weeks was enough to bring tears to your eyes within seconds. there was no point in blinking them away, or trying to hide them from drew.

they were falling down your cheeks and onto his shoulders in record time, making you unsure if you were glad he wasn’t wearing a shirt or not. on one hand, you weren’t ruining one of his shirts - which you had plenty of experience with - but on the other other hand, he was able to recognize the feeling of a wet shoulder within seconds.

“baby, come here.” he whispered softly, throwing an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest. he knew there was almost nothing he could do to cease your tears, since they were built up from all of the argument you’d been having. he couldn’t take back his words or his actions, but he could prevent them in the future - hopefully.

“i don’t know how to fix this, drew.” his hand found its way underneath the shirt you were wearing, tracing small shapes across your back. it was something he did a lot, when you couldn’t sleep or were stressed out from work. it was one of the only things that seemed to soothe you without fail.

“i don’t either.” he whispered back, setting his chin on top of the head resting against his chest.

truth be told, he’d done everything he could think of. he’d given you space when he thought you needed it, and that didn’t seem to work. he tried to not get angry without reason, but he couldn’t seem to help it. he tried to minimize the amount of arguments, as well as the severity of each one. nothing worked.

the two of you were in a rut, and neither of you knew how to get out of it. you were due for season two of outer banks in a few months, and you didn’t know how that was supposed to work. if you two had to get on a plane and fly out tomorrow, you knew it would end badly.

you knew that if the two of you had to act together right now, the scenes between your characters weren’t going to help your relationship at all. your characters were both hotheads, spending most of your shared screen time yelling at one another.

“what do we do?” you asked through your tears, not bothering to hide the crack in your voice.

“there’s only so much we can do, y/n. we either have to find a way to fix this or we have to-” he stopped himself, his voice cracking before he could even mutter his next suggestion. his heart was breaking, as was yours.

truth be told, your hearts were breaking because you knew what you should do. you knew that despite everything that the two of you felt for each other, there was only one way to truly fix the unbreakable tension between you and your boyfriend.

staying together didn’t seem to provide any solution. you’d tried to work on this, and it ended in a different argument every time. neither of you saw a light at the end of the tunnel, and the only way out was an emergency exit.

“i don’t want to.” you didn’t want to say it. you didn’t need to say it. he knew exactly what you meant, because he didn’t want that either, but it seemed to become clearer to both of you that that was the solution for right now.

“neither do i.” you clung tighter to him, and he held onto you when your body started to shake.

it was hard, to come to a solution that neither of you liked the idea of. you told yourself that no matter how much it sucked to fight with drew, you’d rather fight with him every day than go a single day without seeing him. you’d seen him everyday for the past year and a half. working with your partner offered that luxury, and now you weren’t going to have that opportunity for a few more months.

“i guess i should go in the morning.” you shook your head at his words, wanting to rid yourself of the growing feeling in your chest.

“i’ll go. your name’s on the lease.” he didn’t say anything after that, having no desire to get into an argument about who moved out of the apartment you’d been sharing ever since you got back from filming.

“can you stay until the sun comes up?” you nodded, not wanting to move even when the sun peeked through the curtains, but you knew that if you didn’t go then, you’d never go and the two of you would spiral into the same pit you’d found yourself in for months.

so you laid there, wrapped in one another’s embrace for the next few hours. there were shared words and tears, as well as kisses and touches. there was a connection between the two of you that neither of you had felt in what seemed like forever, but it gave you hope. hope that if you revisited this part of your life anytime soon, you’d be able to pick it up from where you left off before you dove into this rut.

and when the sun came up, you unwrapped yourself from the boy, eyes bloodshot and bags darker than they’d ever been before. you didn’t want to leave, a soft but noticeable voice in your head telling you that the last few hours might have been the beginning to the next era with drew.

but you got up and packed your bags, because you knew that was the right choice. you packed a duffle bag and slipped the essentials into your backpack after drew told you you were welcome to come back a different day for the rest of it.

he was hoping that the next time you stepped into the apartment, you’d stay.

and you found yourself standing at the door, both of you crying just as you had done just a few hours earlier. he kissed you once, longer than a normal kiss but shorter than a suggestive kiss. he was asking you to stay, and you were telling him you wanted to.

but you turned on your feet and you walked down the hall, leaving the apartment and the boy that lived in it behind you. and it took you all of ten seconds of being in the elevator for you to break down, body shaking and tears freely flowing.

you were able to stop them long enough to make the short drive, but the second you’d turned your car off they started again, not stopping even when you knocked on the familiar door and austin stood in front of you, understanding without saying a single word.

he wrapped you in a hug, because this hadn’t come as a surprise to him, and he held you while you violently sobbed into him. you didn’t have to tell him with drew, and you didn’t have to ask to stay here, because the bags under your bloodshot eyes and the bag on your shoulder told him you needed a place to stay.

“drew and i broke up.” he sighed softly, hand holding your head into his chest as he racked his brain for ways to make this situation any less shitty.

he didn’t come up with any.

“can i stay here?”

“of course you can. come inside.”

#drew starkey #drew x reader #obx #the obx #the outer banks #outer banks #outer banks netflix #angst

250 notes · View notes

sweetcathedral · 3 years

Text

Note: Final part! Part 1 & Part 2 are here.

⚠️: Reader’s discretion is advised. This chapter contains forms of dubious consent and explores the theme of sex being used as self-harm.

Suna turns his attention to him. “Don’t you get tired?” He questioned with purpose.

“That doesn’t matter,” Tsukki replied defensively.

“Yes, it does.” He takes another puff of his cigarette.

“I was just asking if you were free or not—”

“Your habit of sleeping around isn’t for pleasure or self satisfaction anymore, right?” It was pointless trying to make someone like Tsukki come to the self-realization of his habit, so Suna decided to just force him to come out with it, regardless of the outcome. “Constantly sleeping around with no regard to whom you’re doing it with. And if I say no, then you’ll just call one of your toys out for the night.”

“I thought we agreed that this relationship wouldn’t go anywhere beyond fucking each other.” Tsukki was getting annoyed.

“Is it because of Kuroo’s girlfriend?” Suna ignored him, continuing to press onto the topic. “Is that why you feel the need to fuck someone tonight? Not because you’re turned on or anything, but because you hate the way you feel right now.”

“… shut up …”

Not yet.

“You were mad that there were no flaws to her because you needed to hate her in a reasonable sense.”

“I said shut up …”

More.

“You hated the jealousy you felt and compared yourself to her to see who would be better suited for Kuroo, knowing that he’s already happy in this relationship. You felt empty knowing this and wanted to fill that void with anything to ‘help’ you move on from Kuroo. And you think sex would do the trick?”

Tsukki avoided looking Suna in the eye with his fingers curled into a fist, his nails digging into the palms of his hands. Suna felt the need to keep on pressing him. Anything to let him vent out, so the thought of sex wouldn’t be an option for his outlet right now.

“If you don’t like the way sex is feeling—!”

A sharp pain shot through Suna’s cheek.

“Quit talking like you know how I feel!” Tsukki had slapped him hard across the face. “I don’t care about whether or not it feels good, I consented to it! So why do you even care?! I never asked you to care in the first place!” He snapped.

There.

“You may not have asked for it, but you need it! Someone to care for you, at least!” Suna fumed, letting the cigarette drop to the ground from his lips.

Tsukki collected his composure, deeply exhaling. “Fine. I’ll call someone else then.”

“For fucks sake, would you listen,” Suna sneered, grabbing Tsukki and holding him up against the wall by the arms. “The way you’re handling this isn’t right. You’re not thinking straight, you need to take a breather.”

“I’ll decide how I handle myself,” Tsukki yanked himself out of his grip, storming back into the restaurant.

Again, Suna wasn’t able to get through to him properly. It always ended like this anyways, everytime he tried to get Tsukki to let loose another way, he always ended up leaving him for another. Time and time again, he’d fight with Tsukki to reason with him, helping him be more self aware with himself.

Tsukki was right, Suna didn’t know how he felt and he might’ve been invasive with what he said, but Tsukki wouldn’t have reacted that way if what he said was wrong. He knows that feelings were out of the question, but is it so wrong to be worried about Tsukki’s well being, despite being in a sex-only relationship. Does he need to have feelings for him to care? Tsukki didn’t have to depend on him with everything, only when he felt like he couldn’t shoulder the burden anymore. That’s what Suna established this relationship for: not only to keep Tsukki from recklessly sleeping around with strangers, but to also help carry the burden for him. Communication, that was all Suna needed.

When he got back into the restaurant, Suna had forgotten about Tsukki slapping him across the face that his cheek had noticeably swollen up.

“Suna, your face!” Atsumu frantically put his glass of iced water to his cheek.

Suna winced, only realizing how painful it felt. That was one hell of a slap.

“What happened?!” Hinata worriedly asked.

Kageyama gave him his last yakitori to make him feel better, while Kenma asked the waiter for some ice.

“Hey, where’d Tsukki go?” Suna looked at his empty seat.

“He left to go meet up with a friend,” Hinata informed.

Friend my ass.

Memories of the sexual marks on Tsukki’s body flashed in Suna’s head.

He checked his phone for any messages. Nothing. Obviously, Tsukki wouldn’t message him any type of reassurance after fighting like that. Looking back on it now, he feels guilty for being the reason to push Tsukki into that decision. Fuck, I should’ve said yes.

“You okay?” Kenma asked with a concerned look on his face.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Suna painfully smiled, laughing it off as he internally blamed himself for tonight’s ordeal. Thinking that he could’ve done better to help Tsukki.

* A picture of Suna and Tsukki with their fans is shared.*

~.x.~dinobear~.x.~: tsukki!!!

rrx.98: saw this on my friends ig, im so jealous😭

xxx.~ali.supremacy~.xxx: LUCKY!!

keiko_katanaka_: (reply to @rrx.98) your friends are so cute !

rrx.98: (reply to @keiko_katanaka_) thank youuu, I honestly love them❤️❤️

user99109992844: where did the girl in the middle get her top from??

apple_pie_2: so prettyyyy

zoomzoom: @chuupetchi im saving this

zoomzoom: @sumatso @tofurice @orange.ritz

orange.ritz: Suna can smile🥺

sumatso: aww Sunaa

tofurice: 🥰

* A picture of Kenma, Hinata, Tsukki, Kageyama, Atsumu and Suna at their table at the Korean bbq restaurant is shared. *

user10177498232: omg! I work there but I wasn’t working this shift

user32334700981: WAS THIS TODAY???????

rrx.98: I work near there😮

bokurokuto: @zoomzoom you guys went without me?☹️

zoomzoom: (reply to @bokurokuto) @akaashikeiji

akaashikeiji: (reply to @bokurokuto) we went out today

~chan.yan05~: Ken and Hina are so cute !!

realanon00: I saw Suna and Tsukki head to the back, but I didn’t wanna follow after what happened to Suna

user44448103945: (reply to @realanon00) I feel bad for him ….

user30004847269: (reply to @realanon00) wait what happened

realanon00: (reply to @user30004847269) Suna had a stalker incident

* Article: Accused stalker who stabbed pro volleyball player pleads ‘not guilty’ by reason of insanity link is shared. *

* Article: Suna Rintarou of EJP taken out for the remainder of the season to recover from stab wounds link is shared. *

* Article: Pro volleyball player, Suna Rintarou, rushed to ICU in critical condition after altercation with stalker link is shared. *

* Article: Pro volleyball player, Suna Rintarou, miraculously survives critical stab wounds to the lower abdomen link is shared. *

* Article: Suna Rintarou in critical condition after stalker altercation, EJP coach rushes the decision to take him out for the rest of the season link is shared. *

* Article: Fans pray outside the hospital of Suna Rintarou, wishing him a speedy recovery link is shared. *

user30004847269: 😧😧😧😧😧

~chan.yan05~: aw man i remember this….

clx.90s: my heart sank when i read how bad his condition was

2k1990s: i remember watching the games, all of them started with a moment of silence for Suna

littletibetanfox: the atmosphere was so heavy during that season, im glad he recovered well

realanon00: Suna came back with a swollen cheek, but that was after Tsukki got back and left..

xxx.~ali.supremacy~.xxx: 👀

godcomplex101: yikes😬

user50011823241: Tsukki and Suna have been hanging around each other a lot lately

apple_pie_2: but theyre in diff teams

godcomplex101: oop tea???

user30004847269: its also not the league season yet

realanon00: maybe they live together ?

rrx.98: their teams are in diff prefex

clx.90s: i mean they have summer practices now so maybe its another training camp 🤷‍♀️

apple_pie_2: truu

zoomzoom: @chuupetchi

orange.ritz: (reply to @zoomzoom) 😗

sumatso: (reply to @zoomzoom) Suna you good?

darealest02: i know Tsukishima sleeps around a lot, my older brother went to college with him

rrx.98: (reply to @darealest02) wait whatt

_____fiveunderscores.: (reply to @darealest02) huuhhhh

clx.90s: yeah.. everytime i see a recent pic of him he always has a hickey somewhere new

zoomzoom: @guccibird @yachan96 collect your boy

guccibird: (reply to @zoomzoom) ….

yachan96: (reply to @zoomzoom) we’re not with him 24/7, its my first time hearing of this

bokurokuto: (reply to @zoomzoom) we see him most of the time, we can talk to him

zoomzoom: (reply to @bokurokuto) only during our summer intensives

bokurokuto: (reply to @zoomzoom) yeah! like now!

* A video recording of Suna and Tsukki fighting at the back of the restaurant from a public street view is shared. *

zoomzoom: 🤭

orange.ritz: noooo

bokurokuto: oh..

rrx.98: WHAT

guccibird: @yachan96 I CANT HEAR WHAT THEYRE SAYING

yachan96: (reply to @guccibird) WAIT ME TOO

clx.90s: DOES ANYONE KNOW WHAT THEYR SAYING

zoomzoom: @chuupetchi I KNOW YOURE ONLINE

user30004847269: naahhhh

user30004847269: this is a lieeeee

xxx.~ali.supremacy~.xxx: 😶😶

apple_pie_2: 😳

~chan.yan05~: 😨😨

realanon00: wait who uploaded this ???

realanon00: howd you get this

user77700178329: i was on my way back from work until i heard yelling coming from the restaurant

user77700178329: it was eerily quiet too, so they were loud

user50011823241: shiiit

* A video recording of Suna and Tsukki fighting at the back of the restaurant from a public street view was removed. *

realanon00: oh?

user77700178329: awkard

apple_pie_2: that was quick

sumatso: @zoomzoom you get that?

zoomzoom: (reply to @sumatso) ya I got that

sumatso: (reply to @zoomzoom) send that to us @tofurice @orange.ritz @guccibird @yachan96

zoomzoom: @bokurokuto practice is gonna look awkward….

bokurokuto: (reply to @zoomzoom) dw we can fix this 😊

zoomzoom: (reply to @bokurokuto) no, its not our business

bokurokuto: (reply to @zoomzoom) their our friends 👯

bokurokuto: (reply to @zoomzoom) they need our help

zoomzoom: (reply to @bokurokuto) @akaashikeiji

akaashikeiji: @bokurokuto i think we should leave this to them

xxx.~ali.supremacy~.xxx: could they be dating ??

~chan.yan05~: dont know, i mean if they are theyre doing a good job at keeping it lowkey

rrx.98: 👀👀

user77700178329: nah theyre just friends

user77700178329: i overheard Suna trying to get Tsukishima to stop sleeping around, apparently hes getting outta hand now😬

2k1990s: oh nooo😔

clx.90s: i feel bad, I hope he’s okay

apple_pie_2: ew..😒

littletibetanfox: i hope Suna’s okay, that slap looked painful 😖

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