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queenshelby · 6 months

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Our Little Secret (Part 15)

Pairing: Dark! Cillian Murphy x Virgin! Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Brief Mention of Stillbirth

Notes: This will not be a love story. It will be dark, twisted and kinky. Cillian is portrayed as totally off cannon.

Two days following your phone call and without the knowledge of his sister, Cillian arrived at the place you were now staying at which, much to his surprise, was located in one of the worst areas of Dublin.

It was a studio apartment you had rented out just a week ago after you were given notice by your cousin to vacate his townhouse near Temple Bar. The unit was located above a somewhat questionable establishment and the living space wasn't much, and consisted mostly of a mattress on the floor, a small TV and a study desk.

The kitchenette was cramped and cluttered and, whilst the bathroom was functional, it lacked any semblance of privacy, with peeling paint chipping from the walls and a cracked mirror hanging precariously from the wall. The window was sealed shut, trapping the stale air within.

Despite the less than ideal conditions, you managed to find solace in its simplicity. It was all you could afford and you were proud for the fact that you managed to pay your own way after your mother and stepfather had kicked you out.

You received a financial support now from a public organization supporting women like you and, thanks to them, you managed to pay the bond for this place and were able to cover the cost of the abortion appointment scheduled for next week.

But then again, even though you considered terminating the pregnancy and knew that, doing so, would be for the best, the idea of ending your child's life felt increasingly unbearable now, making you consider Cillian's offer.

"Hey," Cillian greeted softly, walking in cautiously after you opened the door. He was taken aback by the stark reality of your living situation. He had imagined something more akin to a charming apartment, rather than this dilapidated structure situated above a seedy bar.

"Hey," you countered

shyly, inviting him to step inside. "Come in."

His footsteps echoed loudly, amplifying the sense of isolation.

"How are you holding up?" he asked cautiously, glancing around the room.

"Just great, considering I live in a hole," you quipped sarcastically, motioning towards the mattress on the floor. "Make yourself comfortable."

The tension between you was palpable, a mixture of resentment and regret permeating the air.

"This place, Y/N, it does not seem safe," Cillian murmured uncomfortably, observing the grimy surroundings. "Not for you, definitely," he added, concern etched onto his face.

"Yeah, well, I am lacking options Cillian! My mother and Frank kicked me out after she found out about us which, I think, is understandable," you remarked sarcastically, sitting down on the mattress beside him. "And you know what? It's fine. It really is," you went on to say before Cillian sighed, his heart contracting painfully for you.

"It's not fine Y/N. You can't live like this," Cillian protested, his voice cracking with emotion. He felt utterly helpless witnessing your plight, trapped in a situation he inadvertently created.

"Well, I would rather live here than anywhere where I would have to face the consequences of my poor decision-making," you retorted defensively, casting your gaze downward.

"Y/N, please. Let me help you," Cillian urged, reaching out to grasp your arm gently. You recoiled instinctively, alarm flashing across your features. Cillian pulled back immediately, aware of the fragility of your emotional state.

"Are you still finishing college?" Cillian inquired and you nodded.

"Yes, but I had to change institutions. I am working during the day and go to school in the evening now. It works alright for me and I am almost done with my final exams," you confided, shifting restlessly on the mattress.

"And then? What are you going to do?" Cillian inquired, his voice laced with concern.

"Law school, if I get in," you replied, your voice softening slightly.

"That sounds promising," Cillian commented, his tone brightening. "Do you think you will pass your exams with all that is happening right now?"

"I have to, right?" you replied, your voice cracking slightly.

"Yes, of course, but...," Cillian began but then stopped abruptly, noticing your hesitation. He knew that he couldn't push you too far, especially given the delicate nature of your predicament. You looked down, tugging at the hem of your shirt nervously.

"May I ask you something personal?" you ventured, shifting uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

"Of course," Cillian assured you, eager to learn more about your thoughts and feelings.

"Why exactly do you want me to keep the baby?" you probed tentatively, your curiosity piqued.

Cillian hesitated briefly, searching for the words to articulate his complex emotions.

"I guess I wanted to be father for a while, and I am most certainly not getting any younger either. Max is not my biological son and, whist I love him as if he was my own, I know that I may lose him sooner rather than later if my ex keeps carrying on the way she does. So, when I learned that you were carrying my child, Y/N," he faltered, his voice breaking slightly, "it felt like an opportunity for a second chance at parenthood. I mean, I don't want to impose my dreams on you, but the thought of having a child, a family, feels so meaningful to me," Cillian explained and you sat there quietly, absorbing every word Cillian spoke.

His honesty, his openness, and his willingness to share such intimate parts of himself touched you deeply but you were not ready to be a mother yet and this would not change overnight.

You hesitated briefly before answering, "I appreciate your honesty, Cillian, but I need some time to process everything."

"Of course," Cillian responded warmly "Whatever you choose, I promise to respect your decision."

As the conversation wound down, an awkward silence settled between you. Both of you were lost in your thoughts, wrestling with the implications of your shared predicament.

Cillian broke the silence first, suggesting that you reconsider moving to a safer neighborhood. "Regardless of whether you decide to keep the baby or not, you know that I can help you find a better place to stay, right?" he proposed generously.

"I know but...no, thank you, Cillian. I can manage on my own," you protested, your cheeks reddening slightly. "Besides, I am used to this now," you added, gesturing around the cramped quarters.

"It won't be easy, but I assure you, I can handle it," you assured him confidently, displaying strength and resilience.

You were grateful for Cillian's kindness but refused to depend on him, determined to forge your own path. "If you insist, then I will respect your wishes," Cillian conceded, acknowledging your stubbornness which was something that had drawn him to you in the first place.

"Thank you," you replied softly, gratitude swirling within you.

A brief silence ensued, the atmosphere thick with tension and anticipation. Neither of you dared break the silence, fearing that the wrong words might shatter the fragile equilibrium.

Cillian cast his gaze around the dimly lit room, pondering the situation. "We could take a walk and grab something to eat if you like," he suggested cautiously, eager to escape the confines of the cramped space. "I remember how much you like Chinese," he teased playfully, attempting to lighten the mood.

"I would love some food other than instant noodles," you admitted sheepishly as you gathered your belongings hastily, while Cillian attempted to conceal his amazement at your ability to pack everything into a single worn-out backpack. He couldn't imagine living in such conditions, and yet the admiration he felt for your perseverance grew stronger.

You grabbed your jacket and stepped into the chilly night air, the wind whipping your hair wildly around your face.

Cillian followed closely behind, his hands buried deep in his pockets. He kept his distance, giving you ample space to navigate the uneven cobblestone streets. As you walked together, the silence between you felt heavy with unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

"Are you feeling okay?" Cillian questioned tenderly, his eyes scanning your face carefully. Concern flickered across his features, and he reached out to touch your hand lightly. Your skin warmed beneath his fingertips, a subtle connection forming between you.

"Yes, I am," you answered honestly, turning your gaze away self-consciously.

"I have just been feeling a bit overwhelmed with everything that is happening in my life right now," you confided, placing your hand on your stomach protectively. The truth was, you were still undecided about whether to proceed with the termination, and the constant reminder of this tiny life growing inside you was overwhelming.

"That is understandable," Cillian murmured sympathetically, offering you moral support. "It's a lot to deal with, especially all at once. But I promise to be here for you, regardless of the outcome," he reassured you, his gentle touch conveying his sincerity.

You gazed at him gratefully, appreciative of his unwavering commitment. Even though your emotions were torn between resentment and affection, it was impossible to deny the depth of Cillian's compassion.

"I know it must sound strange, but I feel...

I feel like I can't breathe sometimes, like this is all happening to someone else," you confessed, your voice wavering slightly. "Like I am just watching myself fall apart," you continued, pausing briefly to catch your breath.

"I understand," Cillian consoled you, his grip tightening fractionally on your hand. "I have been there, you know, feeling like I was trapped in a relentless cycle of my own creation after Danielle, and I lost our first baby. I was so focused on my own grief that I didn't notice hers and it quickly drove us apart," he divulged candidly, recalling the darkest moments of his life.

"I am so sorry, Cillian" you whispered softly, your hand reflexively clasping his.

"Don't be," he replied, his grip firming around your fingers. "It's all in the past now. We are finally getting a divorce, which was something I put off for far too long. Besides, I wouldn't be here today if I hadn't gone through it all," he added optimistically, a faint smile flickering across his lips.

You glanced at him, his optimism infectious. His strength amazed you, inspiring you to embrace your own challenges and rise above whatever obstacles lay ahead.

"A few days ago, you asked me whether I would give evidence against Danielle, about the assault," you mused aloud, staring down at the cobblestones below. "I will do it," you declared resolutely, your jaw set firmly. "You need to be able to see Max and she shouldn't withhold him from you regardless of what happened," you added emphatically, your tone hardening noticeably.

Cillian's heart swelled with pride and gratitude, admiring your courage and tenacity. "Thank you," he murmured, squeezing your hand tightly. "I don't expect you to," he added, hesitant to burden you further.

"No, it's important," you insisted, your voice steady with conviction while Cillian stared at you blankly, marveling at your strength and resolve. "Are you sure?" he asked, seeking reassurance.

"Yes, I am," you affirmed, smiling weakly. "But you need to buy me dinner, because I am broke," you joked, playfully nudging Cillian's shoulder.

"Consider it done," Cillian promised, leading you towards a restaurant he knew in the area.

When you arrived at a small Chinese diner nestled between two larger establishments, the scent of authentic stir fry and dumplings filled the air. The neon sign outside buzzed, casting ominous shadows along the street. You exchanged uncertain glances before stepping inside.

Inside, the restaurant was bustling with patrons, a lively mix of locals and tourists enjoying a late supper. The hostess greeted Cillian warmly, her eyes widening upon spotting him. You felt a rush of embarrassment, wondering why everyone seemed to recognize him.

"Can we get a booth please?" Cillian requested politely, guiding you toward a corner table nestled amidst the din of laughter and clinking dishes. The hostess obliged, smiling warmly as she led you both to your desired seating area.

As you slid into the cozy booth seats, you admired the quaint charm of the restaurant and the eclectic mix of patrons milling about. You couldn't help but feel a sense of relief, knowing that you were safely tucked away from the majority of the crowd, which you knew was why Cillian had chosen this table.

Soon after you were seated, you ordered your favorite dish, spicy fried rice and spring rolls, while Cillian ordered a variety of dishes to share, ensuring that you would enjoy the experience.

"Can you please not put any sprouts on any of these dishes?" Cillian requested politely, squirming slightly in his seat.

Confusion washed over your face. "I am sorry, but is there a reason why you dislike beansprouts?" you wondered curiously, genuinely perplexed.

"Oh, no...I like them. It's just that they are risky when you are pregnant. They sometimes carry listeria," Cillian clarified, his face scrunching up slightly. "You know, just in case you decide to keep the baby, there are some foods you shouldn't eat. I read it somewhere."

You paused, mulling over his words. "Well, then, I suppose we should avoid those," you chuckled nervously, exchanging a fleeting glance with Cillian.

The mention of the pregnancy stirred mixed emotions within you again, prompting a wave of discomfort. Yet, despite the turmoil brewing beneath the surface, you couldn't help but feel compelled by the notion of embracing this newfound potentiality.

"If I was to keep the baby, how would this work, between us?" you asked Cillian warily, trying to gauge his intentions.

Swallowing hard, Cillian shifted uneasily in his seat. "Well, I suppose that depends on what you want," he hedged cautiously, wanting to present a fair arrangement without jeopardizing your autonomy.

"I want to finish my studies and become a lawyer," you replied firmly, meeting his gaze head-on. "I need to focus on that and raising a child at the same time will be difficult," you explained, worry clouding your expression.

Cillian studied you intently, sensing the uncertainty behind your words. "I understand," he murmured, nodding slowly. "I truly do," he repeated, allowing himself a moment to gather his thoughts. "Let me propose something," he offered, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I will help you financially, however discreetly possible, until you graduate. I will buy you a house, for you and our child to live and, in return, you can let me be a part of our child's life. I can help look after the baby. You can work and study. Whatever you want to do. We can have a shared care arrangement in place," he proposed delicately but with determination burning in his eyes.

Your gaze drifted to the busy kitchen, watching the chefs whip up plates of delectable delights. The aromas wafting towards you stirred memories of your childhood spent cooking with your mother. You blinked back tears, yearning for a simpler time when life was less complicated. Swallowing hard, you turned your attention back to Cillian.

"Okay," you said, your voice barely audible amid the cacophony of the restaurant. "But, before I agree to anything, I need to clarify some things. First, you cannot buy me a house. That's too much and it wouldn't feel right," you argued fiercely, clutching your purse tightly.

Cillian shook his head vehemently, his gaze locked on yours. "Please, let me do this," he pleaded, his voice trembling slightly. "You cannot live the way you do with a child on the way," he implored earnestly, his blue eyes pleading with you.

"No, Cillian," you interrupted sternly, the corners of your mouth flattening into a thin line. "I refuse to be indebted to you. If I accept your offer, it will be on my terms."

"How about I buy the house on trust for our child, in my name, and you can pay the same amount of rent you are paying now, for the place you are living in," Cillian tried to compromise his initial proposal.

"That's more reasonable, I suppose," you agreed, your eyebrows arching upward.

"And where would you live?" you pressed, curious about the logistics of such an arrangement. Cillian hesitated, his gaze drifting to the candle flickering on the table.

"Nearby, I suppose," he muttered reluctantly, feeling the weight of responsibility bearing down on him.

Your heart raced, your palms sweating with anxiety. "Alright," you agreed, swallowing hard. "But I will not stop working or studying," you stressed adamantly, raising your chin defiantly. "I want to make a life for myself and our child," you declared, your voice steadying.

Cillian smiled widely, relief washing over him. "I understand," he assured you sincerely before asking "so you will keep the baby?"

You deliberated silently. The decision weighed heavily on your shoulders, as the gravity of your choice bore down on you. This little life growing inside you was a force to be reckoned with, a tangible reminder of the consequences of your actions.

Finally, you met Cillian's gaze, determination reflecting in your eyes. "Yes, I will," you confirmed softly, your voice scarcely rising above a whisper just before Cillian's phone buzzed and he received a message from his sister.

"You are an idiot!" was all it said on the screen before, suddenly, a photograph popped up beneath it.

You glanced at Cillian who was staring at his phone incredulously, his face crinkling in disbelief, seeing that someone had snapped a photo of you, together, holding hands, before posting it on Twitter.

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khaleesiofalicante · 3 months

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D I need help

Ok so basically I have this friend we've been friends since we were 4 n we're really close n I love her to death and she's really been struggling lately with college, family n finance and I've been trying my best to support her n be there for her but there's not much I can do other than like offer my support n listen. She's been really really anxious and depressed like to the point where it's affecting her physically making her sick (she got sick a lot before too but now it's more frequent and long) , miss a lot of classes cuz of which she got really low scores this semester which only caused her to feel worse. She has a lotta pressure from her family to focus on her studies n do well so she can earn cuz they're struggling financially n her dad's an alcoholic her mom's supportive tho but still the pressures on cuz they can barely pay for college she's being sponsored by her uncle which she's grateful for but it just adds to the pressure

Anyways she told me today that she wants to quit college to work on her mental health but tbh Idk if that's gonna work out cuz staying at home with her dad the way he is n their financial issues is only going to make things worse and it's her first year of college if she drops out rn it may not be a good decision that being said ik at the end of the day it's her decision n her life but I have no idea what to say to her

Hey there,

First off, you're doing an amazing job being there for your friend. It's clear how much you care about her.

It sounds like your friend is shouldering quite a bit right now. It's heartbreaking to hear that her struggles are taking a toll on her physically and mentally too. That's a sign things are really weighing on her.

If that's the case, then taking a break is not entirely a bad idea.

Perhaps instead of telling her not to do it, you could help her think a little about what she wants to do instead?

Would finding some employment in the meantime help? Does she want to go away and stay with a friend/relative for a while? Does she want to pursue online courses which are cheaper and more convenient? Which of these options are feasible and desirable to her?

Personally speaking, I've been in the situation you're friend is in. And no matter how much you want her to continue, sometimes it's just not possible. I'm honestly proud of her for saying she wants a break. That takes strength.

Both my sisters stopped their degrees halfway through for more or less the same reasons, and guess what, one of them went back and completed it later, and the other eventually ended up with a job that she loved and excelled in.

I know it seems scary to drop out of college/school and worry about how that might impact one's future. But right now, her health is the most important thing. Her present is the problem, not her future. Besides, like I said, there are so many options right now. So, let her choose something a little less difficult.

At the end of the day, you're right. It's her call. All you can do is keep being the amazing friend you are—supportive, understanding, and there to listen. Let her know you've got her back no matter what.

Sending love and courage to you and your friend ❤️

#support

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uh-velkommen · 10 months

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Where's the excitement? Life in Sweden:

It's my second full day in Sweden and I have nothing exciting to report other than the wild emotions in my brain. I have little desire to go out and mingle just yet because I've been working my ass off a lot lately and I just need some time to recover. I told a friend that I don't necessarily feel excited about this next chapter of my life because I'm really trying to focus on making the right decisions. A year ago this whole "grad school abroad" thing was really just a manic-impulsive trauma response situation. I wanted to get as far away from my family as possible but also a part of me felt like it was the right move. Like, I was meant for this international traveler's life. As time went on, I started having to really think about the repercussions of a move this big. Am I willing to give up my job, my apartment, my comfort, my minimal student debt? None of my decisions are influenced by interpersonal connections so at least that part was easy. My whole internal conflict was in regards to how much stress I was willing to take on and if I would be strong enough to see it through.

Now that I'm here, I'm again stuck wondering if this was the right decision. Part of it stems from the fact that I'm in Sweden and not Norway. Is this lack of excitement due to the fact that I have no real connection to Sweden? Do I still wish I was actually in Norway? Because, remember, this all started after spending a summer in Norway and learning about Grad schools there. I keep trying to be realistic; I couldn't afford Norway, the timeline didn't work out in my favor, and it's much easier to become a Swedish citizen than a Norwegian citizen (though that's not my end goal, it's still nice to be aware of). Then there's the thought that Norway was exciting because of many reasons, it was my first time abroad, I spoke the language, SKAM, and it was a study abroad trip (those are meant to be fun and I saved just enough money to spend recklessly.) Therefore, I keep reminding myself that this isn't a study abroad trip. This is business. I need to save money, I need to focus on succeeding academically, building connections, experiencing the workforce, finding stability and start planting roots. I have no time to revel in the fun and excitement that the school has to offer.

Also the lack of connection to Sweden allows me to think without the rose-colored glasses. This country is entirely normal. I feel so neutral about being here and I don't know if that's the wrong feeling to have. When people ask me why I chose Sweden, I jokingly answer, "Well I wanted to go to Norway and this was the second best option." Although, I'd never say that to an actual Swede because how messed up would it be to ask a foreigner why they're in America for them to tell me, "Well I actually wanted to go to Canada and I got stuck here instead." I really mean it when I say I'm joking because in all actuality, Lund University was a wiser financial decision, a school that prioritizes post-graduate employment, it has a strong humanities department, and it's built around being an international school. It is a good choice but I tend to leave every school I've attended regretting my time there and I'm scared about this massive change being the wrong one.

I'm tired of people asking me if I'm excited because I'm so unsure of everything that I just default to feeling nothing. And I can't share this with anyone because I get such basic responses like, "You'll be fine, you got this." I know I tend to power through things, I know I got this, but I also know I'm gonna be stressed and reclusive the entire time until it's over. I'm not sure if these feelings are just a form of imposter syndrome, regret, nervousness, or uncertainty. Am I really making the right decision or did I just sign up for something when I was in a manic mood and get stuck having to see it through because everyone around me was in on it and I had no other plans for my life, if not this? I'm so mad that I got so many people involved because I felt trapped. Like, I couldn't back out of it, I had no choice. So many people wanted to experience this through me and that added another layer of confusing emotions to this journey. It's no longer a fun life changing experience for me, I'm stuck doing it for them. To be frank, I didn't want to be alive and so now I'm using other people as an excuse to keep me here. I keep making irrational decisions.

School hasn't even started yet. Who knows how I'm gonna feel after that first week. Maybe it's just the calmness of this week that's causing me to sulk like this. (also there's like too many spiders here for my liking)

#sweden travels #(<- new tag)#grad school #Scandi Saga #me

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leavingtarshish · 2 years

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Testimony Part 1

I’ve tried to perfect my written testimony of what Jesus Christ has done in my life more than once and I can never get it just the way I want it. So here I am again, sharing it on a new platform, and this time I’m going to just word vomit and leave it the way it is with no looking back or editing. My words alone hold no power, but I pray that Jesus does a mighty work through them.

I started having spiritual experiences when I was very little. When I was a toddler I had my first vision of a lion and a lamb on a piece of paper that contained my mom’s written prayers. Other experiences during my very early childhood years include receiving a stuffed cow just minutes after praying for one, my lost shoe being washed back to shore after walking a good distance without it at the beach and praying I would find it, a cricket suddenly appearing on my leg after praying for help waking up on the way to school, and I’m sure there are other experiences I’m forgetting.

My parents had me very young and we struggled financially. We were always moving from one grandparent’s house to the next. By the time I was in 2nd grade we counted 19 moves, and I have no idea how many more happened after that. Even still, my life was pretty picture perfect until my parents split at the beginning of my 1st grade year and my mom started dating someone new that fall. Then, my beloved uncle—who was more like my big brother—died in a horrible car crash that winter. My parents were not in good mental states at that time and as much as I know they loved/love me, and as much as they tried, things just weren’t good. The emotional neglect and instability instantly took a toll on my health. I was sick for months that year with various things and wasn’t even supposed to pass the 1st grade because of the amount of school I missed, but thankfully I did. Things remained chaotic until 4th grade, when my mom and her same on/off boyfriend had finally split ways for good. Up until then there had been lots of fighting between either the two of them or my mom & other family members. When I went to my dad’s he talked on the phone the entire time which left me alone in the big scary house he lived in. I was afraid of that house because I heard my mom talking about the demons she had seen while living at that house, which caused a crippling fear inside of me. I remember being so afraid I would wet the bed on purpose so I wouldn’t have to walk alone to the bathroom in the dark. I mention all of this to say, my early childhood trauma (that I’m not getting fully into) is what caused my first layer of spiritual bondage at an early age: fear of rejection, fear of the spiritual (I was afraid if I prayed to God I would see demons like my mom), fear of failure/performance complex/perfectionism (because I desperately wanted to be approved of and loved), and an eating disorder.

At the end of 4th grade, the anger started to set in and anorexia started creeping it’s way into my life. Now that things were settled my mind was trying to process things it didn’t understand, and while I didn’t know why at the time, I was suddenly filled with an anger towards my mom that was so unbearable I decided to move in with my dad. My dad was an appealing option at that time since he was living with his fiancé, was in a much better emotional place than he was living as a bachelor, and he simply wasn’t my mom. I felt safe with him.

Where was Jesus? I will say that throughout my elementary years my mom did her best to impart to me everything she knew about Jesus and give me all the wisdom/guidance she could. She did this because she knew that was the most valuable thing she could offer me as we were so poor by every other worldly standard. She was the one who led me to pray for the stuffed cow and shoe and wake up/cricket incident that I mentioned earlier. Not because a stuffed toy cow really needs to be prayed for, but because she wanted me to trust God and pray about everything from the beginning. Still, I resented her for most of my life for talking my head off so much about God and everything else in the world. It was overbearing and left me with no desire to really pursue God. The lies that came from my low self esteem also told me that God didn’t really love me and that I could never have the close relationship with Him that my mom did.

At this point I am a very broken, angry, anorexic 10 year old who needed her dad. So to my dad’s I went.

#testimony #jesus #jesusiscoming #jesusiseverything #jesusistheway #jesuslovesyou #jesussaves #belief in jesus #jesusislord #my story #new life #deliverance #spiritualwarfare

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filterjeons · 3 years

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baby baby | kth

✦ pairing: kim taehyung x reader

✦ summary: you’re practically taehyung’s favorite girl. even though you are just his sugar baby, he loves you more than any one of his before. unfortunately, you started to turn into the complete opposite of the girl you were before but luckily for him, he knows how to put you back in your place

✦ rating: M, not suitable for minors

✦ genre: smut

✦ word count: 5.7k

✦ warnings: dom!taehyung, sub!reader, sugar daddy/dilf!taehyung, degradation, dumbification, anal play, oral (f receiving), fingering, rough and unprotected sex, overstimulation, creampie, aftercare

Taehyung sighed to himself as he “patiently” waited for you to finish looking through the abundance of clothes that are hung on the racks of the clothing store you two were in. What’s worse is that you probably already have those exact dresses, blouses or skirts but they’re just in a different color. Yet, your irresistible puppy eyes convinced him to drive you to the mall and spend a good amount on you.

When he decided to become your sugar daddy, he should’ve expected to create such a monster because every month he spends at least $5,000 on different sorts of clothes, shoes, makeup, or miscellaneous items. It wasn’t like it was a financial problem for him but because you were his absolute favorite, he was prone to giving you anything that you ever wanted. Now that he thinks about it, you were the most spoiled out of all of his previous sugar babies. You recently asked him to order a bunch of packages and now here you are, going to spend even more money on more clothes that are only going to go in your closet.

Despite all of that, he really loved you and wanted to make sure you were happy. The first time you two met was in a convenience store on a rainy day where you used to work part time. Back then, you were tired all of the time because not only were you working as soon as school ended but you also had to study like crazy once your shift was over. Even after you took on his offer of being his sugar baby, you still worked hard to maintain your scholarship and pay for your best friend Lisa’s rent. Plus, you always spent time with him whenever you had a free day which wasn’t required but it made him happy.

None of his past sugar babies were that caring, they just only wanted him for the money and genuinely didn’t care about him. He didn’t require them to keep him company or be in a relationship, hell he even was aware of the relationships they had with other people. He didn’t expect you to date him either because of the age gap between the two of you shared. He was 29 and you were only 19, in your second year of college. But you decided to be his girlfriend because you really liked him regardless of the money and because of that, he always had a special place in his heart for you.

What’s the point of buying all these clothes when he’s just going to rip them off of you?, he thought as he watched you shift through the neat piles of skirts. Another reason why he has a favoritism towards you was that you were just the best with him in bed. Some days you’ll be obedient and he’ll be caring with you but on other days, you’ll put on a bratty front and he’ll simply fuck it out of you with extra care at the end. He assumes that today will be the latter because of your spoiled attitude right now.

“Y/N honey, I don’t think you’re going to buy anything here so let’s go home now-” Taehyung said, walking over towards you but you brushed him off.

“Just wait for 5 minutes. I wanna see if this’ll look good on me,” you protested.

“It’ll always look good on you. Besides, don’t you have that same dress but in pink?” “I want the black one now, it’s for a party I’m going later on.”

“A party? How come you didn’t let me know before?” You were absolutely perfect in Taehyung’s eyes but a thing that he wasn’t really fond of was him knowing of your plans last-minute. Most of the time it was an accident because you tend to forget things easily but for some reason, it sounded like you didn’t want to tell him earlier.

“Because it’s none of your business. Ugh, there’s nothing good here so I guess I’m going to get this one. Daddy, can I have your credit card?” you grumbled, putting back the pile of clothes that were laying on your arm while the other was texting your friend Lisa.

“Your business is mine because I also have to keep you safe from anything bad that could happen to you. Where is the party?” “At the club of course! Come on Taehyung, who wouldn’t have a party at a club?” “It’s with Lisa, right?” “Why do you care so much, you’ve met her before! She’s literally my best friend and of course I have to go. Just give me your credit card al-”

“Put the dress down. I’m not buying you anything today because of the attitude you just showed me,” he said darkly, trying to get you to listen to him.

“Why not? What did I do wrong?”

“I think I already spent too much on you because now you’re acting like a spoiled little girl,” he growled softly above your ear, his aura overtaking you and making your heart race.

“But...but, I want this one!” you whined, giving him your best pout and stomping your feet like a little toddler. Taehyung laughed at your childish behavior but his decision still remained firm.

“Please Daddy? Please, please, please!”

“No means no. There’s nothing you can do to change my mind.”

“It’s not even that expensive!”

“Y/N, the money isn’t the problem for me. It’s the way you’re speaking to me.”

“Daddy, you said that you’ll buy me anything right? You love me right? Do you not love me anymore? Am I not your favorite?” you pulled the last-attempt lines that typically got Taehyung to do whatever you want. You knew in your heart that he’ll only love you and he blatantly shows his favoritism for you but those words always got him to give in and buy the item.

Taehyung’s expression shifted from softening his stance and debating to giving in before deciding to not settle down to you. It was so close before he surrendered and spent even more money on you. He already loved you since you were his only sugar baby right now and he’s sure you know it too but this time, he’s not going to lose to your charms.

“I’ve already bought you so much stuff, is that not enough for my bratty little baby?” he asked coldly, pulling a card that you’ve never heard before. He’s never called you a brat outright but the degrading name made your stomach turn and a whimper come out of your mouth. “Does she want more?”

“I-I-” “Are you a little brat who likes to be spoiled with Daddy’s money?”

You felt cool sweat dripping down your forehead as you tried to think of a comeback that could match him but most of your previous ones won’t work on him. All you could think of is…

“Yes I am, Daddy.” That nearly sent Taehyung to the edge as he made you put back the dress, grabbed your hand, and walked you out of the mall and into his limo which still amazes you to this day. The chauffeur didn’t even need to interact with you two as he pulled up the golden partition, giving you alone time with him.

“You used to be such a good little girl but now your behavior has gotten worse. It’s such a shame that I have to punish you on the night before your best friend’s party. I would’ve let you go if you told me before but I don’t think that’s an option, especially for what I’m about to do to you when we get home. Besides, we haven’t had sex together in a while now; wouldn’t you have much more fun playing with me than going to a normal party?” he whispered darkly, his hand slowly creeping up your thigh as your face started to blush.

Sometimes, it’s hard to believe that you were the same girl a couple of months ago when he first met you. He remembered the first time he took you to a high-end clothing store, the look on your face when you read the price tag and the way you puffed up in anger when he swiped his credit card on an expensive dress that’ll absolutely look stunning on you.

Now after getting used to buying more items, you took a full 180 on your personality which led you to be the girl you were now. But even though you showed a bratty and whiny facade, he still knew you kept your hard-working and kind heart because it was a part of you that never went away. Alongside your submission to him.

“Daddy, I’m sorry,” you whimpered, his fingers lightly grazing the front of your pussy and feeling the embarrassing wet patch on your panties from your arousal.

“Are you enjoying this? Did you want this all along? Are you acting up like a bad girl because you want me to dom you?” he chuckled, his warm mouth leaving hickeys along the side of your neck and pushing his fingers past your underwear and into your core.

“I...I…” you were breathless, already squirming from his touch and worrying that the chauffeur could hear you. Although there were times when the both of you had no shame in his car, for some reason it was humiliating for him to hear you wrecked like this.

“Huh, are you worried that he might hear you? Do you want him to hear you fucked out against my fingers like a little slut?”

“Oh, uh…” you let out a quiet whimper as you try to cover your noises with your sweater sleeve. Taehyung smirked at how weak you looked as he started to pump his digits in and out of you, the action making squelching noises and the palm of his hand rubbing against your clit. You were absolutely dripping onto his fingers and your panties as muffled sounds were slipping out of your lips.

“Naughty girl,” he tsked as the limo came to a halt in presumably the front of his mansion and he pulled his hand out of your core, licking the excess liquids. You whined at the dirty action and the loss of contact as the chauffeur turned off the engine and exited the driver’s seat to open your door.

“Thank you so much Michael,” Taehyung smiled as the door opened for the both of you to get out. He was acting like he didn’t make you hot and bothered earlier ago while you already looked flustered and out of breath. You knew that he’s absolutely going to snap once the two of you are behind closed doors but you weren’t worried at all. Rather, you were proud of yourself for bringing him to that point because you really enjoyed getting punished by him.

“Strip off your clothes baby girl. Don’t make me repeat myself,” Taehyung says darkly once you get inside his master bedroom. You gaped at him, suddenly feeling shy about yourself.

“Wh-what?” “You should’ve got it the first time. Take off your clothes, missy.”

Even though you were in trouble with him, you still didn’t want to back down to him completely yet so you decided to give him an eye roll and a dramatic groan.

“It’s no use being a brat to me now, rather it’ll just make your punishment worse. I’m saying this for the final time Y/N, strip. Now,” he snarled, his darkened eyes burning daggers into you as he eyed you expectantly.

At this point, there was no use in arguing with him so you huffed and gave in to his demand. You pulled off your sweater and bra, leaving you in just your skirt, thigh-highs, and panties.

“Take off your panties, I just want to see you in your skirt and stockings,” Taehyung demanded, waiting for you to finish. You were surprised he didn’t want you to take off all your clothes but he always loved seeing you in a skirt due to your tendency to wear them often. You slipped off your undies and tossed them in the side, leaving you in the thigh-highs and the skirt that barely left any room to hide yourself.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his bulging hard dick sticking out against his jeans as he manhandled you onto the edge of his bed, the curve of your ass sticking out. You could feel him grind onto you roughly, making you crave more of him. “You’re such a bad little girl, I’m not going to go easy on you.” “Well, bring it on,” you jeered, facing him and trying to rile him up even more. Your statement lit a fire in him because he pushed you down on the bed and immediately attached his lip onto yours in a hungry kiss. You tried to kiss back but his pace was too rough and fast as he slipped his tongue inside yours to assert his dominance.

He broke off from the kiss and went down to your chest, kissing and sucking on your hardened nipple, even nibbling on them. The other one was taken care of by his long fingers, tugging on them and sending sparks of pain whenever he tugged them sharply. You let out a high-pitched moan as he typically never paid that much attention to your boobs.

Being the little shit he was, he decided to become more aggressive once he switched treatments on both nipples. In one, he was biting and sucking on it harshly with his teeth while the other was being flicked and pinched with his fingers. After hearing your mewls and whines, he decided to tug it upwards which created an electrifying shock towards you.

“Ahh! What-oh-oh my god!” you cried as your body tried to calm itself down from the pain while Taehyung watched your boob snap back into place with an evil smirk plastered on his face.

“Aww, does the little baby not like that? Does it hurt?” he mocked and you nodded, tears threatening to fall out of your eyes. “Too bad, little whore. It’s what you deserve after you acted like a dumb little bitch who’s only good for taking in dick.”

You gasped to yourself at the degrading terms, surprised at yourself for hearing him calling you that for the first time and how much you like that. Taehyung could tell as well because of the way your slick is coming down rapidly from your thighs.

“Does the stupid little girl like that? Do you like getting treated as just a dirty little cockwhore for me to use?” he asked, pulling up your skirt and making kitten licks on top of your pussy to tease you.

You bucked your hips up higher for him to keep going: both the degradation and him eating you out. Taehyung’s tongue always felt so good on you and the way he was staring at you could nearly make you cum right now.

“Yeah, you enjoy it so much huh? Being treated like a dumb baby who’s only good at making Daddy feel good? Do you want me to make you feel good? Does your little hole want to be filled up with my cock?”

“Yes,” you whined, thrashing against his face as the ache’s gotten worse for you. At this point, you wanted anything from him just so the burning sensation could feel better.

“Such a little slut. Always desperate for Daddy’s cock,” he shook his head as he licked a stripe of your core before turning you on your hands and knees, your ass in full display.

“Wh-what are you going to do?” you whispered, thinking of the times he’s gotten you in this position when you were in trouble with him. Most likely it’s going to be a spanking so you internally braced yourself for the impact.

“I’m going to do something different,” he replied, pulling up your skirt so your puckered hole was on display. He rubs a finger to prod your entrance, collecting the slick that was forming there. “We haven’t done anal before, have we?”

You shook your head, your heart racing on what he’s going to do with you. For some reason, it made you nervous as it was something that you’ve never done before and you’ve heard so much stuff about it from your friends and the magazines.

“Shh, don’t be nervous, it’ll be okay. You’ll be my good girl and take it, right?” Taehyung comforts you, kissing the back of your neck to calm you down and massaging your butt. You nodded, swallowing the lump down your throat to prepare yourself.

“I-I can do it,” you tried to say confidently, taking deep breaths.

“I know you can, you’re such an obedient little baby...some of the time,” he cooed, prodding your asshole with his thumb to try to get you used to the feeling and using your wetness as lube.

“Hey, what do you mean some of the time?” you barked, turning your head back to face him as a shit-eating grin was plastered on his face and his eyes darkened in lust. Apparently, his statement was supposed to distract you as he started to insert the first half of his thumb into your hole. “Daddy, what the fuck-” “Shh, relax baby,” he said in a soothing tone, feeling your walls clench around his digit tightly.

“Oh, okay,” you nodded and tried to calm yourself down as you took a deep breath and felt Taehyung’s thumb slowly starting to enter deeper inside of you, your walls trying to accommodate the stretch.

“You’re doing so good, taking Daddy’s thumb like such a good girl,” he praised softly, the compliment sending butterflies in your chest and making your face heating up even more. “It’s only a little bit left, you can do it baby.”

By now, you were a moaning and whining mess as you tried to stuff yourself into the pillows due to the embarrassing sounds you were making. You feel so full already and Taehyung wasn’t helping as he’s bringing his hand to the front of your pussy, flicking your clit.

“Such a sweet girl, you took all of my thumb,” he said with admirement, feeling the way your walls flutter around his finger tightly. The thought of you like this, all whiny and helpless under him while he takes you from behind, entered his mind and he let out a growl from the chance that he can make that thought into a reality.

All of a sudden, he pulled his thumb out of your hole, making you groan with disappointment as you were getting used to it inside you, before plunging his long pointer finger inside. You started to let out even more whines as you started to feel overwhelmed with the pleasure, both from the front and behind.

Taehyung added his middle finger and thrusted them in and out, quickening the pace while deciding to stick another one in, making you feel even more full than before. Your body started to tremble as you tried to keep up with him and steady yourself due to the rate he was going at.

“Jesus, have you gotten tighter than before?” he muttered, spreading your walls apart and making scissoring motions in an attempt to go deeper and stretching you out as much as possible so that you’re ready to take his dick later. Speaking of which, he felt himself grow harder with every little movement and sound you make, your cute noises boosting up his ego and turning him on.

You looked absolutely wrecked, the side of your face sprawled onto the pillows as your eyes were closed shut, mouth was open into a moan with drool slowly dripping down the corner of your lips, and your pretty ass sticking out for him as you started to grind on his hand, wanting to feel more.

“You’re enjoying this too much aren’t you, you bad little girl,” he tsked, fingering your hole harder and shoving his pinky inside. With practically all of his long digits inside, it hits every corner of your walls and gives you shocks of pleasure with every thrust which is leading you to your orgasmt. “Do you want my dick inside you, huh?” Your high-pitched squeals of need and you grinding your ass back to feel his hardened dick and chasing your high gave him the answer he needed. “You just want your little holes to be filled up, isn’t that right? Too bad.” All of a sudden, he immediately removed his hands and turned you back on your front, your legs sprawled out for him and your face contorting into a whine from the lack of contact.

“Why-why did you stop?” you panted, sweat dripping down your forehead as he was hitting every single part of you but ended it without any warning and leaving you dry.

“Because my little princess is still a bad little slut. Don’t worry though, maybe if you feed Daddy with your cute pussy, I’ll forgive you,” he replied as he licked a stripe up your cunt and made your body tremble from his dirty words. As he started to eat you out, you made eye contact with him and compared to his softer gaze, his naturally brown eyes are absolutely dark from lust which made him look intimidating. To tease you even more, he gave you a seductive wink and you felt yourself turn into putty as you let him do whatever he wants with you.

“D-daddy..” You were at a loss for words due to the bliss you were in. Taehyung was eating you out completely, kissing your clit, and humming occasionally to send vibrations throughout your sensitive core. His tongue was deep inside your entrance and his fingers were added as well to try to find your g-spot.

At this moment it was like you were in another world with your mind becoming absolutely blank and only focusing on him and your eyes nearly seeing stars. The noises inside the bedroom were extremely lewd, the squelching of your pussy as Taehyung eats you out and the whimpers and moans that are coming out of your mouth.

“Filthy little fuckslut,” he sighed, lapping at your clit and swirling it around between his tongue. When he lightly grazed on it with his teeth, the volume of your whines were even louder than before and you were ten seconds away from releasing.

“Does my angel want to come now? Is she going to release her sweet juices on my tongue?” he asked, staring at your fucked out face from below while thrusting his tongue muscle in and out.

“Mmh-” you whined, the familiar feeling that arises when you feel like releasing slowly taking over you as the rest of your body keeps writhing and twitching from the ministrations that Taehyung was doing to you.

“Pretty little baby,” he cooed, watching you starting to tremble as your orgasm was near. That sets off a reaction in your stomach because all of a sudden, you see your vision going blank and full of stars as you release all of your liquids on him.

It was like you had just dropped down from a roller coaster as you were still trying to come down from your high but it seems like it hasn’t stopped since more liquids were dripping down and soaking the bed sheets.

Taehyung looked at you in awe as some of it were splattered onto his face and surprisingly, your orgasm seemed more intense than before and you were squirting intensely onto his bed. He licked off some of your juices that were onto him before giving a final kiss on top of your cunt as he watches you slowly regain consciousness.

“Huh, what- oh shit, I’m so sorry,” you babbled, realizing what just happened and feeling completely embarrassed. Taehyung had no shame regarding what you two do in bed but it was still humiliating that you absolutely drenched his bed due to how good he was. “No no, it’s okay, besides it was really hot,” he smiled, trying to assure you that everything was fine. You rolled his eyes at his lewd remark as you slightly punched his shoulder, his comment definitely not helping.

“Are you still mad at me?” you asked quietly.

“Of course not, you know I can never get mad at you. But that doesn’t mean I’m not done with you because I still haven’t fucked you yet,” he replied as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, giving you a mini strip-show.

Taehyung was a very attractive man and today it was evident as he kept staring straight at your face while taking off every piece of clothing on him. His honey skin was reflected against the late afternoon sun, causing it to glow like he was some god that came out of the sky. Although he wasn’t the most muscular, you were more than fine with how he looked because a man like him could have any girl in the world and he chose you.

“Why are you taking so long?” you whined as he slowly unbuckled his black jeans. You could see his hardened dick begging to be set free and knowing how good it looked and felt made you absolutely on your nerves as you impatiently kicked your feet immaturely.

“Patience, little girl,” he chided softly as he was now stripped down to his grey Calvin Kleins, palming his big bulge on top of his boxers. “Do you wanna take it off for me?” You nodded rapidly, crawling over to him and pulling down the restricting material. As soon as they were gone, his long and thick cock stood up instantly. Your mouth immediately watered at the sight of it with precum oozing out of the angry head. Honestly, his dick intimidated you due to how big it was and if it’s ever going to fit you despite sleeping together with him multiple times.

“Daddy…” you whispered as he pumped his length to let the precum slick it well. His hands were normally really big but for some reason, they looked small when they’re wrapped around his dick.

“What’s wrong, are you scared?” he teased lightly, a playful grin stuck on his face as he hovers above you to insert it in.

“N-no, I’m ready,” you said confidently as he aligns himself above your entrance, the tip of his dick slightly grazing your folds.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised, immediately pushing himself in inch by inch, hitting all of your nerves and filling you up to the brim. You dig your nails behind his back to try to steady yourself as he seems to be going deeper than before, feeling him hit your g-spot and other nerves that weren’t explored before.

“A-ah, shit it feels so fucking good. Your cunt is so warm and tight for me, holy fucking hell, you like that baby? Like my big fucking cock inside your tiny little pussy?” he grunts, rolling his eyes back as soon as his whole dick was inside you. You mewled pathetically, not being able to find words of how you’re feeling.

Taehyung took your noises as a sign for him to keep going harder and faster. Although you were just getting used to his veiny and lengthy dick burning your cunt, it wasn’t for long as he started to take his dick out so only the tip was above you and slamming it back in. You squealed at the sudden fast pace, his dick pounding into you deeper and harder.

He snapped his hips harder and started to thrust even faster, making you feel delirious and out of breath. The pleasure was overwhelming due to how well and often he was hitting that spot that always made you weak and his deep moans and grunts were turning you on. Your eyes were glossy due to the tears that were slipping out from the euphoria you were in and the way your cute eyes stared at him from below only turned him on even more, fucking you as hard and fast as he can.

“Aww, is my little fucktoy crying? Is it too much for you, huh? Is it too overwhelming for my little baby?” he mocked once he saw your face, thrusting at an inhumane pace. You whimpered at the degradation with glossy eyes, which only set Taehyung off even more.

“Fucking shit, the things you do to me little girl. Daddy’s hitting it so hard and fast, right? You could feel Daddy’s dick deep in your stomach?” With that being said, he palmed the bottom of your stomach and sure enough you could feel the presence of his bulge in there.

“I-I- oh fuck, y-yeah, faster,” you stammered, embarrassed at yourself for not being able to form coherent sentences but at the pace Taehyung was going at, it was pretty useless to.

“Stupid little baby, only good for letting me use her tight and tiny little pussy, my stupid little doll,” he cooed while kissing your cheek affectionately, the soft action mixed with the degradation making your pussy flutter around his cock tightly.

At this point, you were ten seconds near your orgasm due to how well he was making you feel. The familiar knot that signals if you’re about to cum is near and the volume of your noises has risen, filling the rooms with your high-pitched squeals and whimpers.

“Is my baby going to cum soon now? Do you wanna be a good girl and cum for Daddy?” Taehyung asked in his raspy voice above your ear, fucking you against your g-spot.

His words sent off a reaction in you that leads you to your high. You screamed out his name and released every single one of your juices on his dick, your body trembling due to the impact. Taehyung gasps as he couldn’t move due to how tight you were squeezing his dick due to your orgasm.

“Fucking shit, that’s a good girl,” he sighed, watching you slowly try to come down from your climax. For some reason, that just made him ten times harder and wanting to cum as soon as possible.

You were in a state of euphoria, your vision being blackened out and your senses not thinking straight. As soon as you slowly started to regain consciousness, you found yourself in Taehyung’s close embrace as he started to speed up.

“Shh, shh, baby, it’s okay, Daddy’s here,” he said softly, kissing you with love as you started to whine from the overstimulation as Taehyung was continuing to fuck inside you to reach his own high. “Can you hold on for Daddy, please?” You nodded slowly, feeling a bit bad about cumming before him. Although it slightly burned since you were sensitive from your own orgasm, you decided to keep it to yourself just to let him climax.

“You’re such a sweet little girl, my good baby,” he grunts as he started to slow down and his thrusts became sloppier since he was getting close to his orgasm. You let out a cute whine and that’s what it took for Taehyung to release.

With a low guttural groan, you felt his dick inflate inside of you and shoot out loads of his cum. He slowly started to pull himself out of you while he was still releasing, making his seed spill out of you while the rest was stuffed inside of your cunt. He stroked his now sensitive dick to make each last drop land onto your cunt before flopping down next to you out of breath.

“You did so well baby, I love you so much,” he whispered cutely, showing his adorable box smile which made your heart swell while stuffing the remaining cum that was slowly starting to drip out inside of your battered cunt.

“I love you too,” you croacked back, trying to calm yourself down from the two intense orgasms you had and the overstimulation.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve gone too hard on you,” he started to apologize but you immediately stopped him.

“N-no, I’m completely fine. You did really well too,” you smile, hugging him tightly.

“You’re always so sweet but first let me take care of you, okay?” he grinned back, stepping out of the bed and into the bathroom to put on some clothes and clean you up. As soon as he came back, he handed you an oversized shirt and had a washcloth in his hand to clean up your thighs and core.

“Do you mind if I put you down for a bit? I’m going to clean the sheets,” he asked, carrying you onto a nearby chair and changing the sheets. Soon, the bed was back to normal and you two decided to sleep in.

“I’m sorry for acting like a brat,” you said amongst his broad chest as you were snuggled up against him.

“No, it’s okay. You’re still a good girl no matter what,” he reassured you, kissing the top of your head and looking out into the window. The sky has turned into a pitch-black with stars scattered in different areas like a painting. “I’m sorry that you’ll have to miss Lisa’s party. I guess it must be starting soon.’’ “Taehyung, don’t apologize for that. Besides, I’d rather hang out with you than go to a party. It’s okay, she’ll understand,” you said, brushing off his apologies. Of course you would like to hang out with your friend but being with him made you feel like the happiest girl in the world.

“You’re so cute, like a tiny little baby,” he cooed, squishing your cheeks which made you immediately brush his hands off. Due to your age gap, he always found you cute because you were younger than him and treated you like a baby sometimes. It was endearing but sometimes it can be plain annoying.

“Oh my god, you’re so annoying,” you grumbled, turning away from him and placing a pillow on your head to prevent him from bothering you any further.

Taehyung laughed at your antics before slowly hugging you from behind and sleeping alongside you in that position.

With the previous sugar babies he had, he wouldn’t be sleeping with them in this position or have so much love and care but you were different. You absolutely stole his heart and even though you have your bratty moments, you will always be his number one.

a/n: damn this was filthy...but i hope the anons who requested this and y’all like it <3

taglist: @taesluttt, @laurynne5, @bonnyskies, @aretha170, @arthurflecc, @mytaetaey, @bts-txt-ateez, @maijinki, @pimentelssmile, @kookies-princess, @seventeenis-thedream, @impartoftoomanyfandoms

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dollslayer · 3 years

Text

Sweeter Endings

Sugar Daddy!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Still reeling from the financial realities of losing your mother you turn to a lucrative website for help and get more than you could have bargained for.

W/C: 5,325

Warnings: Smut (no minors 18+ only), light D/S dynamics, brief mentions of alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, swearing

A/N: NO MINORS, I wrote this for @donutloverxo 's Sugary 4k Challenge (Congrats!!) I love sugar daddy AUs so I was really excited to write this!! If you like it then please like/reblog/comment I'm all ears! Also maybe check out my other stuff if you want! Cheers!

Main Masterlist

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The saying ‘desperate times call for desperate measures’ was truer than you’d ever imagined and you found out the hard way. Life had hit you hard last year. You had watched your mother succumb very quickly to cancer. A cold that just wouldn’t go away turned into a doctor’s visit turned into three months left to live. Having no one else in her life, the cost of her funeral and medical bills fell to you. The bills outweighing the inheritance you had no choice but to drop out of school.

One year later you were hanging on by threads to keep yourself off the streets without turning to a loan shark or selling yourself. Stocking shelves at a bougie grocery store in Soho by day and bartending in Tribeca by night had you working six days a week. What free time you had you were too exhausted to do anything with. Something had to give or you were going to collapse from the stress, you just didn’t know what.

A couple weeks ago you had been casually venting about how broke you were with a coworker when she jokingly suggested signing up for one of those Sugar Daddy sites. You laughed along with her but it sounded better than getting a third job. You had quietly asked one of your roommates to borrow their laptop saying you needed to look at job postings only half a lie, really and locked yourself in your room.

You were just gonna check out the website, maybe sign up and poke around, it didn’t mean you were committing to anything, just looking. You remembered first looking at the website once your shitty wifi loaded it, promising ‘beautiful and successful people making mutually beneficial connections’. You balked after reading that but you couldn’t look at any profiles without making one yourself so you had set to work.

After making your profile you hadn’t gotten any hits in about a week so you shrugged it off. You couldn’t keep hogging your roommate’s computer anyways so you set off back to work. Your days at the store wore on into endless nights at the bar and you wondered what other options you really had when you had no degree and no experience in any relevant field.

___

6 o’clock on a Thursday night, the typical after work crowd begins to roll in. The bar you work in is upscale, classy. Definitely trying to lure in the businessmen that worked in the area and their wallets. It annoyed you to deal with the same type of customers you did at the store all over again but with the high end crowd came good tips so you couldn't complain too much.

It was busier than usual when a group of men in suits walked in together asking for a booth. You saw a lot of business meetings take place over whiskey sours in this place so you didn’t think much of it. You tried your best to keep tending to your regulars when a pair from the group came over.

One of the men had deep brown eyes and a sly grin that when split gave you the perfect view of the gap between his teeth. He was confident but he had a kind look to him. His friend had dirty blond hair and a beard that clung to his perfect jawline and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t snuck a second look. You turned your back and continued filling orders to distract yourself when one of them cleared their throat behind you.

As you turned to face them you found it was the blond calling after you. His face held a hint of surprise but it was quickly replaced by a look of amusement as he smirked and one brow lifted, like he knew something you didn’t. He was like any other typical customer for you, professional and handsome, probably over-confident in himself. You returned his smirk and prepared your best charming banter. Time to earn those tips.

“Something to drink for you, gentleman?” You offered.

“We’d like a round of scotch for the table over there. You don’t mind bringing it over, do you sweetheart?” the brown-eyed man asked.

“Of course not” you answered. Pricks.

“Good girl” the blond said with a wink. Creep. A hot creep but still. Before you could ask he took his card out of his wallet and put it on the counter for the tab.

____

A round had come and passed, soon they’d asked for another but this time it was just the blond that approached you. You lifted your eyebrows in anticipation of an order.

“You here often?” he asked. Ugh, not even a good pick up line.

“Am I here at my job often?” You retorted with a playful smile.

The man’s shoulders shook as he chuckled. “Sorry you just uh, you look familiar that’s all. What’s your name?”

You supplied him with it and asked him if he wanted another round of scotch. He nodded.

“Smart girl, I’m Steve by the way.” He laid down his business card which you picked up with a look of challenging curiosity. Steve Rogers, CEO of Shield inc.

Oh. You didn’t recognize the name but you definitely knew the company. It felt like a quarter of their employees stopped in for a drink throughout the week and it was prominent enough of a company that you read about it weekly. Play it cool, these types want to feel like an every-man at the bar but still wanna feel important.

You raised your eyebrows again in recognition. “Nice to meet you, Steve, I’ll have your round right out.”

“Good Girl” he winked again at you. Okay so it’s hot, but he’s a total stranger and you don’t even know him. Stay on your game.

___

10 o’clock came around and things were thinning out slightly, regulars made their way out, awkward Tinder dates and rowdy young 20-somethings made their way in. The party of businessmen was still around but they were hopefully wrapping up after the 2 more rounds they’d had. Steve approached the bar once more and you preemptively picked up the bottle of scotch.

“Whoa, easy, girl! I’m here to pick up the tab” He said, taking out his wallet.

“What’s the name on the tab?” You decided to play dumb but based off the grin on his face he knew you were playing with him.

“Steve. Rogers.” He replied, his tone was stern but his eyes told you he was in on the joke.

You cashed him out and left him to sign his receipt so you could make more drinks. You saw him move in your peripheral and turned your head to see his face.

“Have a good night, sweetheart. I’ll be seein’ ya” he promised.

“Take care!” You smiled back.

A few minutes later you circled back to collect his receipt and found three $100 bills staring back at you. You blinked dumbly in disbelief, who the hell leaves a 200% tip? Looking around to see if Steve was still here he was nowhere to be found. You had no choice but to pocket the money.

____

Another week went by and left you wondering how much energy and concentration it would take for you to just evaporate, since that seemed easier than going to work today. Sadly still in solid form, you punched in at the store and stowed your things in your locker.

Your upscale customer base was a mostly pretentious and successful group of yuppies so even though you were grateful to not be on the streets you were constantly reminded of the professional success you couldn’t help but feel that you were missing out on. Stuck instead to listen to incessant whining ‘is this organic? I won’t eat it unless it’s organic’.

The upside of this job was that the time went by quickly because you always had so much to do. Plus with how monotonous the work was it was easy enough to zone out. So much so that you hadn’t heard someone calling your name and approaching you. A hand softly touching your shoulder snapped you into the present.

You looked up, startled to find a pair of blue eyes staring back into yours. You took a step back and processed who it was. “CEO guy?” Steve?

“‘CEO guy?’ I thought I recognized you, ‘barmaid’ or should I say… ‘stock girl?’” He joked using his fingers to make quotations.

Now that you thought about it, the store isn’t that far at all from the bar, it would make sense if he’s in the area. You smiled and tapped your nametag in response.

“I just came in on my lunch to grab a few groceries” looking down at his basket it held some protein powder, some eggs, and one lonely banana. “Clearly, I’m single. But you’d know that already, wouldn’t you?”

Your brows twinged together in confusion. What is that supposed to mean?

“Excuse me?”

He edged a little closer to you and lowered his voice “SeekingConnection.com?”

Your eyes widened in shock. The fucking Sugar Daddy site! I forgot about that! Surprise was quickly replaced with humiliation. You looked down and away as you felt your cheeks heat up.

“I don’t mean to embarrass you” Steve placated, “But I gotta say, I’m pretty hurt you never responded to me. I sent that message weeks ago and let’s just say I’m not used to rejection.” He kept his tone light, letting you know he wasn’t mad.

“I-I um, I’m sorry, I don’t have a computer and they don’t have an app, I was using my roommates’ computer and I guess I forgot about it…” You admitted.

Steve nodded in acknowledgement. Please say something to salvage this conversation. Please.

“Well,” Steve rummaged in his pocket for another business card. “You got a pen on you?”

You dug around in your apron and came up with one. Handing it to him you watched as he wrote on the back of the card. He held the card and the pen out to you.

“That’s my number, I’d ask for yours but I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, you already look like you wanna sink through the floor” Not helping, but I do. You took them from him and tucked them away in the pocket of your apron.

“You do have a phone right?” You only glared at him in response. “Well, if you check your profile, you would’ve seen I asked you out to lunch, offer still stands. Just text me when you’re free”

Should I even say yes? I mean, the winking the other night was weird but he’s good looking and at least somewhat considerate. I mean, it’s not like I had any other intention when I signed up for that site. What the hell. right?

“I… usually work mid shifts so I don’t know if lunch is doable, they only give me half an hour but, maybe we could do coffee? I’ve got tomorrow off from the bar I could meet you” you suggested.

If Steve felt pity for you he hid it well behind the wide smile he made when you offered coffee instead.

“There’s a place around the corner from here, just up a block, you know it? I’m off tomorrow at 6, why don’t you meet me there?”

“Sounds like a plan.” He winked at you again and started walking away. What the hell just happened?

____

You did end up borrowing your roommate’s computer once again when you got home to look up Steve’s DM. Sure enough, there he had been in all his internet glory. ‘Steve, 33, CEO. likes: art, conversation, whiskey. Digging around further on his profile you found that he owned several houses here and in Europe, he had a dog that was cuter than he was, and that he was ‘Seeking deeper connection’. All of these things piqued your interest.

‘Hey, Doll. Saw your profile and I had to ask, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this? Kidding, of course. But maybe you’d care to tell me your story over lunch? Your profile says we’re both in New York. - Steve’ Sent three weeks ago. Fuck.

You had texted him earlier to confirm, which is how you found yourself walking up the sidewalk towards the shop with a mind running rampant with nervous thoughts. What if he just wants to feel big about himself in comparison to me? What would I even really have to offer the relationship? A college dropout working two dead-end jobs with no social life. You needed to snap yourself out of it. You were just meeting for coffee doesn’t mean anything.

Pushing open the door you found Steve waving at you from a quiet corner. He was still in a suit, presumably coming from work himself. Even the buttons on his shirt looked expensive. You were wearing dirty jeans and a worn pair of work boots paired with a flannel. You couldn’t have looked more different if you tried.

“I waited for you to order,” He said. You smiled up at him, only now realizing how tall he was in comparison to you. He ushered you both towards the counter where you both placed your orders. You moved to take your wallet from your purse but he had already beat you there.

“Really? As if I’d let the lady pay, and on the first date no less?” He said playfully.

“Oh, so this is a date now, is it?” You kidded.

Steve shoved his hands in his pockets and gave you that boyish grin and a shrug. The pair of you made your way back to the table and waited for your drinks to be brought over.

“How was work?” You asked, “What exactly is it that your company does?”

“We offer security and surveillance software domestically as well as international. Stadiums, airports, other government buildings. Things of that nature. And work was fine, thank you for asking” Steve said with a genuine smile. “How was your day, doll?”

“Oh, my day was fine, more of the same but y’know,” You answered half-heartedly.

“You know, you never answered me, what’s a funny, pretty gal like you doing on a site like that?”

Embarrassment hit you again, this time maybe accompanied with a hint of shame. You were saved momentarily by your drinks being delivered. He seemed truly interested and since he was paying you supposed you owed him an answer.

“I was going to Columbia and I had a pretty good internship when my mom got diagnosed with cancer. She died three months later and since it was only always just the two of us I ended up footing the bill. I was on partial scholarship but between the hospital and the funeral I can’t really afford the rest of tuition on top of working for free so here I am” you explained, “Oh my god, I’m sorry I’m totally oversharing aren’t I? You probably don’t wanna hear about a bummer like this, sorry”

You tried to laugh to ease the tension you thought you’d created. Braving a look at Steve, he looked thoughtful and only a little bit like he pitied you. You could live with that.

“I’m really sorry about your mom, mine also got really sick before she died, I know it must’ve been hard. What were you in school for?”

___

You and Steve talked for hours, trading anecdotes of childhood and talking about each other’s interests. You had a similar sense in humour so you got on swimmingly. The evening seemed to be coming to a close as the night sky sent in through the window.

Being with Steve was probably the most relaxed you’d felt since before your mom was diagnosed. It became difficult to focus on anything but your financial situation and even though that’s what brought you here in the first place you had managed to forget all about it.

“So look, us getting together wasn’t exactly the most conventional on meet-cutes but to put it bluntly,” He said, “The CEO life makes it hard to meet real people and it gets kinda lonely, I mean, you saw my grocery basket” You both laughed at that. “You need money and I need company, I feel like we could help each other out. Whad’ya say? Think you could put up with me?”

You knew what this was but hearing it put so plainly was a little surprising. At least he was to the point.

“So if I said yes what does that mean, exactly?” you inquired.

“Well,” he started, “We take care of each other. Let me cover some of your bills at the very least, make it so you’d be comfortable quitting at least one of your jobs. And you’d keep me company, we go on dates, maybe you could come over, there’s the occasional work event or charity gala I’d need you on my arm for. Thoughts?”

God I can’t even imagine what it’s like to work only one job anymore. Maybe I could even save up and go back to school. He’s cute and he seems sensible, why not?

“Could we maybe take things slow? What you describe is something I’m down for but I don’t want to make myself completely dependent on you. But I’d love to be there for you, and I have to admit, the thought of only working one full time job is pretty crazy to me” You laughed.

Steve swallowed and placed one of his large, warm hands over yours.

“I can do things the old fashioned way, if that’s what you’d feel good with. I gotta say though, with looks like that it’s not gonna be easy” he jested.

You smiled shyly and looked away. You both stood to leave and he held the door open for you.

“I’ve already got your number from when you texted me earlier but I’ll talk to my assistant about my schedule and maybe I could take you out to dinner this weekend?”

“I um, I’d really like that. It’s a date” You stated.

“Oh, so you think this is a date now?” He jested.

You lightly punched him in the arm and he took the opportunity to pull you closer to him. You looked up to find his face inches from yours. You could smell his aftershave and his deep voice gave you goosebumps when he spoke next.

“I kinda want to kiss you goodnight, would that be okay?”

You could only nod as he shut his eyes and closed in. Your lips met in one perfect, chaste kiss. You sighed and leaned into his hand as it briefly cupped your face.

You broke apart and made promises to see each other soon. You felt like you could’ve floated home as you boarded the subway, caught up in the swarm of newly forming feelings.

_____

You sat in the break room when your phone buzzed to life, ‘Saturday at 7?’

You were about to type out a yes when you forgot you worked closing at the bar. Your thumbs moved quickly to tap out the reply ‘Working, sorry :/ the pitfalls of bartending. Sunday at 7?’

You were nervous telling him no and asking to change plans. You hated not being able to make things work but you only just met the man and the weekend tips were killer, it’s not like you could turn the shift down.

‘Ah yes, almost forgot. Sunday works too, I’ll text you the details. What’s your address? I’ll pick you up’

Oh, God. Steve can’t see my building! His cufflinks probably cost more than my rent!

‘I’ll just meet you there, don’t worry about it’

‘Not a chance, doll. Just tell me where and I’ll come get you’

You let out a worried sigh but knew you had to let it go. You sent him your address and went back to work.

____

Saturday was maybe the longest day in your entire week, in fact you loathed it. Mornings at the store followed by running immediately to the bar. Last call in New York was 4am so it’s a good thing you didn’t try to make brunch plans with Steve for Sunday. But ultimately both your shifts passed without major incident and now it was Sunday and you tried to ready yourself the best you could.

The place Steve mentioned was fancy, you knew that much from a quick search. Panicking instantly upon realizing you don’t really have any nice clothes you turned to your most fashionable roommate for help. She loaned you a cocktail dress that was revealing enough to draw interest without giving everything away. You just hoped Steve would like it.

‘Downstairs, doll. Silver BMW’ you exhaled. Hoo boy, here we go.

____

Steve handed his keys to the valet and rushed around to open your door for you. You held his hand and you clambered onto the sidewalk in your heels. His warm hand on the small of your back as he steered you towards the doors was a comforting weight.

Dinner has been lovely so far, he chose a place that wasn’t completely white-glove but was upscale enough to make you feel only a little underdressed.

You joked back and forth with him over the course of the meal, talked about your lives, and even found out you both have a guilty pleasure for cheesy rom-coms. It wasn’t until dessert and your third glass of wine came that you realized how much time had passed. You frowned slightly thinking of the early morning ahead of you followed by a long night at the bar.

“What’s wrong, doll?”

“Oh, nothing I just didn’t realize how late it was, I’ve got both jobs tomorrow it’ll just be a long day that’s all” you tried to wave it off but Steve frowned in response.

“Quit the bar” he stated.

“What?”

“Quit the bar. This is your card, I’ve already loaded $3000 on there. Put me in touch with your landlord and I’ll get you taken care of.” He slid the card across the table to you. Your name printed on the front. This got real very quickly.

“Steve, that’s.” You were in shock, a loss for words almost “that’s too much, I don’t know what to say.” You felt embarrassed taking the money. You knew that was the essence of your arrangement but actually taking his money had you feeling uneasy.

“Honey, this is what I’m here for. Let me take care of you. Give up your late nights. I wanna take you out on the weekends and you’ll need to be available for events. You can stay at the store if you want but quit the bar, you don’t need it.”

You took a deep sigh. He did say he wanted you to be comfortable quitting one of your jobs; it's just making the change that scares you. But something about Steve felt safe so you nodded and looked up to him.

“I’ll put in my two weeks”

“Good girl” he patted your knee and you involuntarily clenched your thighs. He smirked at that but let it go.

____

A few months had come and gone since that night and your time with Steve had been great. Only working the one job gave you so much more free time. You'd spent a good chunk of it just trying to form a normal sleep schedule but all the time you spent with Steve made it difficult. Not that you minded especially since your allowance was monthly but he’d showered you with gifts here and there.

They started off small, perfume, chocolates and flowers, or a simple pair of white gold hoops that reminded him of you. They gradually became pricier and more elaborate. You’d felt guilty accepting it all at first but he was insistent you deserve the best. He had even mentioned you moving out maybe finding a better place but you reminded him you needed to go slow.

He’d also been nothing short of a gentleman. Out in public at least, you’d learned the hard way that he was an absolute animal in bed. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep your hands off of him.

Something you had appreciated about Steve is that he never made you feel bad or less than for being broke. Never held his money over your head like leverage. You’d felt equal to him in all aspects, understanding you had just as much say as he did.

Still, there was a small nagging voice in the back of your head that reminded you Steve is not your boyfriend. This isn't a relationship and he's looking to get something out of just like you are. But if you were being honest you were catching feelings, it was hard not to when the man was giving you the fantasy. You decided to push that voice aside whenever it came up and let yourself be swept away. Maybe that would bite you in the ass but for now you were happy.

____

You were buzzed into Steve’s building and on the elevator ride up to his penthouse your phone buzzed. ‘I have to make a quick call- I’ve got a present waiting for you in the living room.’ You couldn’t help but feel giddy.

The doors opened and Steve was nowhere in sight but as you entered the living room a bag from Chanel and the Apple Store sat on the table. Oh god, what this time? I swear this man is too much.

You opened the smaller bag from Chanel first and found a beautiful black and white evening bag. It was sleek and simple, very much to your tastes. You were nervous to open the Apple bag, Steve always went overboard. Shakily removing the paper you pulled out the slim case in disbelief. A MacBook Air and a pair of AirPod Pros. The man well and truly spoiled you.

“You said you didn’t have a computer.” His voice came from behind you and startled you.

“Steve, this is too much. You’re too much.” You swung your arms around his neck and kissed him.

“Nothin’s too much for you, doll.” He kissed the top of your head.

“Think you could take a couple days off of work? I just got off the phone and confirmed plans for my house in Nice.”

A trip? France?? Oh my god. How is this my life? You felt so overwhelmed that you grabbed Steve by the collar and brought his face down to meet you in a kiss. His tongue swiped your lips and you granted him entrance. Moaning into his mouth your hands traveled up into his hair, pulling softly and coaxing a groan out of him.

He guided you to sit on the couch and brought you down into his lap. You ground down onto him and felt his hard-on through his slacks. Your hand moved slowly to undo the buttons of his shirt as he kissed down your jaw towards your neck. You sighed softly when he found your sweet spot and started sucking.

He helped you take off his shirt while you got started on his belt and undid his pants. He lifted himself off the couch slightly to move them down to his knees, taking his briefs with them. His cock stood proud and an angry red, leaking at the tip.

“I wanna ride you, I can’t wait.” You pouted as you writhed against him in need.

Steve tutted at you “that’s no way to get what you want. Ask me nicely, baby. Beg to ride my cock,”

You ground down even harder and whined. “Please, sir, please let me ride your cock. I need to feel you, I can’t wait any longer please.”

“Good Girl” Steve's hands flipped up your skirt and found your panties, ripping them to shreds. They were La Perla and had cost a pretty penny but he didn’t care.

He lined himself up and brought you down harshly gripping your hips. You moaned loudly in surprise and satisfaction and wasted no time moving back and forth. Steve made you feel so close and connected to him whenever he fucked you but he still made you feel sordid and dirty. You couldn’t get enough of the feeling, you’d gladly chase it.

His eyes were hooded as watched you chase your own pleasure and giving him some in return. His hands kneaded your ass and smacked it just to get a gasp out of you. He grabbed the back of your head and brought you in for a searing kiss that was all teeth and tongue. He’d nip at you and lick the pain away.

His hips met yours, finding your rhythm and speeding you both up when he gripped your hips.

“Can’t wait to have me, you had to fuck me on the couch huh?” Steve panted, “my dirty girl. So fuckin’ gorgeous.”

You put your forehead against his and went harder, pushing your clit to grind against the muscles of his abs.

“Only yours, sir.” Your orgasm was building. Steve was a pretty relaxed dom but you still needed permission.

“Sir, please let me cum I can’t wait any longer” you tried your best to slow your movements a bit.

“I think you can hold it baby, I wanna enjoy you a little longer”.

You could only whine in response and tried to slow your pace but his grip on your hips and his own movements pushed you further and further towards the edge. You tried to squirm out of his grasp but his hands only tightened. It felt like forever until Steve finally gave you permission.

“Go on baby, cum for me you earned it. Fuck your self on my cock and cum all over me”

Your movements were frantic, desperate to chase your orgasm when finally the perfect angle of his cock inside you and your clit against him set you free. You cried out above him and dug your nails in deep.

Steve held you firmly in place and started slamming into you from below, finally letting himself think about cumming. All you could do was hold on for mercy. Moments later he brought you down onto him one final slam as he came inside of you with a cry.

The only sound in the room was both of you trying to catch your breath. You sighed again and collapsed against him, nuzzling your face into his neck. He kissed the side of your face and let you make yourself at home while he caressed your back.

____

One shower and two more orgasms later you were both clean and made your way to the kitchen. Steve was gathering the ingredients for dinner when you hugged him from behind. Your head resting against his back. Steve twisted around and hugged you in full. You both stayed like that for a moment until you looked up at him.

You were so content. Moments like this where you were just domestic were some of the best between you. It wasn’t about money or material, it was just the two of you making dinner and enjoying each other, no barriers.

“Are you really going to take me to France?” Your voice came out muffled against his chest.

“Of course, doll. After dinner I want you to use your new laptop to buy some outfits for the trip. I left my card in your new purse.”

You lifted onto your tiptoes and kissed his nose.

“You really do think of everything, don’t you?”

“What can I say? I’m a planner” he retorted.

You didn’t know it yet but Steve was going to ask you to become official while you were there. He wasn’t worried in the slightest. In fact he’d never been so sure about something in his life.

#sugary4kchallenge #steve rogers x reader #sugar daddy!Steve rogers x reader #sugar daddy!steve rogers #sugar daddy au #marvel au #marvel fic #marvel x reader #fluff #smut

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piecksz · 3 years

Text

ignite | (m)

pairing: dabi x fem! reader

warnings: nsfw, mentions of abuse, smoking, drug use, car sex, rough, sex, shotgunning, penetrative sex, choking, degradation, explicit language

summary: after getting into a fight with your parents, you meet up with dabi for a smoke session as temporary distraction from your problems, but you find yourself becoming addicted to something else.

words: 2,626

a/n: this is just a cute/smutty idea i thought of while texting my friend, and i decided that sharing is caring so i had to turn it into a “one shot-esque” format. enjoy!

Beyond the steep incline of the cliff lookout, the city’s soft lights smoldered against the deep blue of the evening sky. The bustling streets were full of constant motion and a million faces that you’d never know, and yet amidst the clamor, everyone coexisted and operated like a hive. It was breathtaking the way the urban landscape encapsulated the very microcosm of life, something you were questioning the meaning of just moments ago.

It was the same customary procedure. Your father was the exemplar of stress when his ability to moderate his emotions became overrun. The conversation would always begin the same way, with him spouting obscenities about the financial hardship your family was in. He was the sole breadwinner of the household while your mother remained home and maintained the hearth. Her quirk wasn’t anything exceptional, and it was the reason why she was unable to find work. Only so many careers could make use of a germination quirk, the ability to manipulate seedlings, and floral shops in the area weren’t looking for any new hires. That was why you were training and studying especially hard at school. You figured if you were able to make it as a top pro hero, your parents would never find themselves arguing about money ever again. You could provide them with anything they’d ever wanted.

But of course those days were far off from your current reality. When your father would raise his voice at your mother, what else was she to do than raise her voice in retaliation? You always wanted to protect her, so you’d find yourself in the middle of it, and the three of you would erupt into an exasperated all-in-with-guns-blazing disarray. No matter how bad each argument got, you managed to make it out of each quarrel without any physical scars, which is why this time you, your mother, and your father were suddenly startled when he used his quirk on you. The empty vase on the dinner table was hurled in your direction without the culprit ever raising a finger, and you barely dodged it with the shallow cut on your cheek as proof. You didn’t even stick around long enough to hear your father’s rushed apologies as your mother attempted to discourage you from running out. You didn’t know where you were running to, all you knew was that you needed to put as much distance between you and your house as possible.

Your first instinct was to call Dabi up. You’d known him for years, and he was one of the only people you genuinely trusted other than your mother. He was the only other person you knew who could relate to your broken home, except he made his escape long ago. Faking his death as his final parting from his abusive father. As attractive as running away sounded, you knew that you’d never be able to abandon your mother. You had to keep your unspoken promise to your family, and it was your job to build the picturesque home that you always wanted.

“Stop thinking so hard.” Dabi’s languid voice drew you out of your reverie, and you glanced over at him in time to see him light the end of the joint with the tip of his finger. He took a deep inhale before exhaling the smoke out through his nose, and then he turned to you, offering up the neatly rolled paper.

You took it between your fingers and lifted it to your lips, echoing Dabi’s movements. It wasn’t long before your chest pushed out the smoke in strangled bursts as you erupted into a fit of coughs, and you hurriedly thrusted the joint back towards Dabi, which he welcomed gladly.

“I’m surprised you suggested this,” he teased. “You know you’re not a smoker.” He took another drag and let out a hazy cloud. “If you’re trying to impress me by proving something, throwing your lungs up isn’t really the way to go about it.”

“Anything to get rid of this feeling,” you responded. “Like my heart’s trying to claw itself out of my chest.” To say it felt like suffering was putting it too plainly. It was much more than that. The pain that nestled under your breast where your heart used to be was your silent killer. It was eroding you from the inside out.

Dabi grunted. “You’re an idiot.”

You turned your attention to him, confused at his choice of response.

“Maybe not an idiot. But you’re naive,” Dabi continued. “Take it from someone who’s been there.” He studied the joint in his hand as if it was an excuse not to look at you.

It was a sick cycle, even for someone like him. Dabi was born with all the fortunate ingredients for a comfortable life. He was attractive with a functional quirk and a pro hero father, yet his future turned out grim. If that was his luck, how much more could you say for yourself?

You mustered a quiet hum. You were already starting to feel the effects of the marijuana, and your limbs grew increasingly heavy as you did your best to sink further into the leather interior of Dabi’s car.

“Isn’t that the whole point of drugs? Temporary relief?” you asked.

Dabi snorted. “No. People do drugs because it’s fun getting fucked out of your mind.” He held the joint out to you, and you hesitated before shaking your head. If what he was saying was true then you figured it wouldn’t be the brightest option to get incomprehensibly high. That would only mean that when your emotions resurfaced after the sensation wore off, it would hit twice as hard.

Laughter erupted from the driver’s seat, but you didn’t bother looking.

“Come on, loosen up.” Dabi coaxed you. “You in the mood to see something cool?”

You weren’t, but you figured you could use the pick-me-up.

Dabi inhaled deeply with the joint to his lips, but this time instead of exhaling immediately you could see him gently swishing the smoke around in his mouth before setting his jaw. He rounded his mouth and pushed the fog out in a thick ring. He lifted his hand, snapping his fingers towards the top of the circle, causing the shape to cave in and form a delicate heart.

Smiling while you were sad was the emotional equivalent to getting a root canal, but your stiff frown melted into a small smile, and you looked down to hide your amusement.

“Stupid,” you grumbled idly, stifling a small laugh.

Dabi grinned, nudging you with his elbow. “You like that?”

You glanced off to the side before succumbing to your weed-induced laughter, which felt much better once you let it out.

“Let me show you something else. When I blow, just inhale. Okay?” He directed. Although they were half-lidded, his eyes were glazed, like blue glass.

You rolled your eyes but agreed regardless, only feeling pressured to back out once you slowly registered Dabi leaning over the armrest to close the space between you two.

Is he going to--?

Your train of thought came to a halt at the jarring feeling of marijuana smoke being blown into your face. What were you supposed to do? Fuck, you were supposed to open your mouth. You forgot to open your fucking mouth.

“You forgot to open your mouth,” Dabi said, repeating your thoughts.

You prayed that you didn’t look as frazzled as you felt. If Dabi knew you were frozen and flustered at the sheer thought of him kissing you, he would never let it go. The teasing would be endless, and you’d have to endure it to your grave.

“Right, sorry. I forgot,” you replied sheepishly.

“I literally gave you the easy part,” he teased.

Oh, fuck off, you thought. The voice in your head sounding louder than usual. You hoped that he couldn’t hear it. There is nothing easy about what you want me to do.

“Whatever. Try it again,” you said simply. Your tongue was now dry and felt heavy in your mouth. You could tell by the slick arch in Dabi’s eyebrow that he knew what he had done, and you refused to allow him to go the rest of the night luxuriating in his arrogance.

He went in a second time, mouth full of smoke, releasing it at the last minute when your lips barely collided. Pushing away the distraction of his hand on the back of your neck and his lips hardly brushing against yours, you did as he instructed, inhaling once the cloud left his lips.

Dabi sat back, enthused in the way your lips remained parted in surprise.

Sober, you would have hated the way he was looking at you, smug with satisfaction at the achievement of just having bewildered you, but with cannabis clouding your brain, your close proximity to Dabi was the only thing you could focus on. The feeling of his lips barely touching yours didn’t seem to phase him at all, like he was planning on it, but with the way your stare yo-yo’d urgently from his eyes to his lips, it became more obvious what you wanted.

You credited your fit of courage to the marijuana in your system because otherwise you would have never considered leaning forward to kiss Dabi, and you surely would have pulled away before the contact deepened into a filthy makeout session. The motion of your mouths were slow, like you were taking your time, but Dabi’s ravenous tongue in your mouth appeared way too eager to swap spit.

His hand found its way back to the nape of your neck just as you mirrored him and did the same in an attempt to push yourselves closer together although there was no more space left between you two.

You thought it was impossible to grow more hungry until Dabi released a throaty moan into your mouth, and your hunger evolved into an ache. Only breaking your kiss for a moment, still joined together by a string of saliva, you quickly climbed into his lap, aided by his strong hand on your lower back.

Was it control? Everything in your life had spiralled out of it, and yet in the moment control was all you had. Once you redirected Dabi’s hands from your hips to your chest, you knew you were drunk off of it. You placed your hands over his, reveling in the way his fingers flexed as he cradled your breasts in his palms, but it wasn’t long before he grew tired of the intolerable fabric between your skin and his.

“Up.” he demanded straightforwardly, his voice husky and low. He tugged your blouse off brusquely, still looking hot, bothered, and unamused until your bra, too, was strewn over the passenger seat along with your shirt.

The way in which Dabi exhaled labordly at the sight of your bare chest was enough to send heat racing to the tip of your ears. Naturally, you would have responded scornfully to his smutty remark about how “your tits were way better than what he imagined whenever he jerked off”, but in seconds his mouth was on your skin, his hot, wet tongue teasing your nipple as he used the tip to flick them tauntingly.

Sinking your teeth into your lower lip did nothing to stop an innocent whine from spilling, and you descended even further when it intensified into you crying out Dabi’s name.

So much for control.

But Dabi adored your lewd cheers while he experimented with different combinations, pinching, pulling, and sucking your delicate mounds to see what would elicit the loudest response.

The throbbing between your legs worsened, and you could tell, or rather feel by the firm tent against the inside of your thigh that Dabi needed relief too. You began rolling your hips, the tip of his erection prodding the top of your clit through irritating cloth.

“Stop doing that,” Dabi chewed out, looking mildly annoyed by you.

Each second that passed felt like an eternity. It was as though the cannabis exacerbated whatever sense of arousal you were feeling by tenfold. You felt insatiable.

“Fuck you,” you breathed. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I might strangle you.”

Your casual and brattish tone did nothing to quell Dabi’s displeasure, and you felt his hand close assertively around your neck, his thumb digging into the side of your throat.

“Bold of you to talk to me that way when you’re the one sitting in my lap.” He bit back. “And what if I decide not to fuck you? Then what?” His gaze was dangerous, yet you were fully cognizant of the fact that Dabi wouldn’t suffocate you, much less get physical with you, but with the current lack of air circulating to your head, you could only smile dumbly.

“Watch the way you talk to me, you dirty whore.”

Initially, Dabi planned on fucking you into oblivion for the pleasure, but now he figured it would be even more exciting fucking you as punishment, dominating the most vulnerable part of you so there was no question who was clearly in charge.

He forced you around in his lap, leaving you unsuspecting while he unbuckled his belt. You were incredibly irked that you weren’t allowed to see how hard you made him, and you feared Dabi’s temper if he caught you managing to steal a glimpse over your shoulder. The sight alone was obscene. His hand was wrapped around his thick cock, pulsating and raw from the lack of sexual contact.

You could only hear Dabi’s shallow breathing and grunts while he pumped himself slowly, but nothing could have prepared you for the pain that erupted across your pelvis once he thrust himself into you without notice. You doubled over in his lap, hands across the dashboard as he bucked his hips forward, burying himself even deeper inside of you.

Dabi guided your hips up and down, ramming himself into you quicker and then even quicker with each jolt. Eventually the sharp discomfort eased into a comfortable sting once you both fell into a sloppy rhythm, his car rocking along with your motion. Dabi dipped his slick fingers into his mouth, coating them generously with saliva before sliding them down to your clit where he opted to rub tantalizingly slow circles onto the sensitive bud.

Your vision melted into hot white light, and the way your body began to tremble violently under Dabi’s touch was a sign you were closer to your orgasm than you thought.

“Are you gonna cum?” Dabi entertained, subtly picking up the pace once your fingers enclosed around his wrist. His honeyed voice was damn near condescending, he knew you were on the brink by the way your moans became louder and more discordant.

When you came you collapsed over the steering wheel, and Dabi followed not even a moment later while your futile pleas were muffled by your bended posture.

“Motherfucking hell,” he groaned, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut as he emptied himself inside of you. He pulled out his cock, wiping the crude mixture of both yours and his release on the inside of your thigh before his body went slack against the driver’s seat.

The car windows were now misty with condensation from heat, now obscuring the view you originally came to see.

You could feel Dabi’s hand on your back, rubbing tender circles into your skin in an effort to praise you since he was jaded and at a loss for words. He unenthusiastically shifted around in his seat, searching for a stray napkin to clean you up with, but you only grinned lazily, finding amusement in the new discoverance of your own personal drug.

#dabi #dabi smut #dabi fanfic #dabi fanfiction #dabi x reader #my hero x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia smut #my hero academia fanfic #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero fanfic #boku no hero academia fanfic #bnha #bnha smut #bnha angst #bnha x reader #bnha fanfic #this is filthy im sorry

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amazonswin · 3 years

Text

Saudade: Chapter 3

Pairing: Duncan/Courtney (Total drama)

Word count: 1.3k

———

18:37 - Courtney, please call me back.

11:26 - I know, just call so we can talk about it

19:43 - I’m not mad. Can we please meet up to talk?

13:21 - Court..

Courtney looked down at the seemingly countless missed calls and messages. How could she even respond? Sorry I didn’t tell you I had your baby, I was a stupid sixteen year old? No. That wouldn’t fix anything. Duncan seemed to have his life together, maybe that should count for something. And Maelie. Maelie deserved a chance to know her dad. But would that do more harm than good? He wasn’t a good person before, and how could she possibly know if he had truly changed. Courtney couldn’t risk it. She needed to protect her daughter, and herself.

She had barely realized it was time to take lunch. The usually busy office was silent as she walked out. The last thing she expected to see behind the door was him.

“What are you doing here?” Courtney looked around, making sure no one would witness their conversation.

“You wouldn’t answer my calls and we have to talk about this.”

“You cannot be here and you definitely cannot make a scene. Imagine what they’ll say about me…”

“I’m not here to make a scene, I just want to talk.”

“Fine, but not here.” Courtney walked off, with Duncan not far behind.

The park was within walking distance, but far enough away that she was sure no one would overhear. Aside from a few parents with their children, it was rather empty anyway. Courtney used to be sure that she knew everything, but she had no idea how to have this conversation.

“So why did you hide it?” Duncan was sick of beating around the bush. He wanted, he needed, answers.

“I was sixteen and pissed off” She sighed, “I was perfect, I made sure my life was perfect and worked very hard to keep it that way. And then came you. You were my complete opposite and I hated you. But I also was in love and I was crazy. Extremely crazy. But, hey, I had you.”

She took a deep breath and looked up before continuing.

“Until I didn’t… you cheated and left. To make it worse it was with someone who I had the audacity to consider a friend. I had no one. Then I lost the stupid show and had nothing. I went home a loser and a failure. I had to face my parents that way, face the world that way. Once settled I noticed something was different, I was… off. With the stress and the depression, I didn’t think much of it. By the time I found out it was too late. Not that I wouldn’t have kept her… I honestly don’t know what I would have done. I’m grateful I didn’t have to make that choice. The right thing was to tell you, I knew that. But I couldn’t, after all you did to me? I wanted you to hurt, to suffer like I did.”

Duncan couldn’t look at her. He knew he hurt her, but he never really considered how much.

“A few months in, I knew I had to tell you. But by then no one knew where you were. I gave up even trying. I was selfish and horrible, and I know that now… I really do wish I could change it. But I can't…”

“I know I hurt you, and god I wish I could change that. But it doesn’t matter. We had a baby and you didn’t tell me. I deserved to know. And I deserve to know her.” Duncan tried to control his temper, but who could blame him for being mad? It was his kid. And he didn’t even get to know.

“Duncan, I’m sorry…”

“I want to meet her. I want to be involved.”

“I can’t let her get hurt.”

“The only one hurting her is you. She deserves a dad, and you kept that away.”

“Duncan…” Courtney felt helpless, she knew he was right. But was she really willing to risk it? No. There had to be conditions, she had to protect Maelie. “Fine. An introduction. But there needs to be terms.”

“Are we really going to negotiate this? I have the right to meet my child.” Duncan had enough, he wasn’t going to let this stay hidden any longer. He couldn’t.

“It’s the only way we both get what we want. You meet her, I keep her safe. You agree or I can’t let it happen.”

“Fine.” He reluctantly agreed. He had to and he knew it. “So what are these terms?”

“You can meet, but only as my friend. No mention of you being her dad, not yet.”

***

Courtney’s house was exactly as Duncan expected. Clean cut neighborhood, white picket fence. His motorcycle turned more than a few heads as he rode in. She opened the door before he even had the chance to knock.

“Quite the place you got here.”

“It’s nothing much… Here come in” Courtney moved aside to let him in.

You could hardly tell someone in their twenties lived here. It was too formal, not a single thing seemed out of place. Even for Courtney, this seemed a little too adult. He questioned if it was her taste at all.

“This is a really nice place. How much did it cost ya?” He joked.

“Ha. Well as absent as they were, my parents do at least financially provide.” One of the few things the pair had in common was crappy parents. Though he really couldn’t compare his constant fighting to hers never being there. The two bonded over it early in their relationship, but Duncan figured as Courtney got older it may have got better. Looks like it didn’t.

“So they bought this?”

“Yep. Along with most everything in it.” Courtney had of course protested their decisions, but at least they were somewhat involved. They hardly came over anyway, just the occasional holiday. “Except Maelie’s room, that’s all her” She smiled. Courtney hardly changed much around the house, but once she turned six Maelie demanded a room full of pink. There was no talking her out of it.

“Where is she anyway? It’s awfully quiet for a kid.”

“Oh, she had some lessons after school. Her friend’s mom offered to drop her off, so should be here any minute now.” Courtney hated how awkward this was. Maybe she could talk about Maelie’s violin lessons? That was a skill she was more than happy to pass on. But bragging didn’t seem like the best option. So waiting was the only thing to do.

Finally a knock caught her attention. Courtney quickly answered and made some polite small talk with the mom. Given the age difference and her constant work schedule, she never found much in common with the other mothers. She tried her best for her daughter’s sake, but despised every moment of it.

Duncan was shocked at the sight of Maelie. She looked just like Courtney, the same light brown skin and scattered freckles. The only difference was her big, striking blue eyes. There was no denying that she was his daughter, and he loved her already.

She set her bag down before slightly hiding behind her mom, “Mommy, who is that?”

Courtney squatted beside her to be more eye level, “This is Mommy’s friend, Duncan. He’s going to join us for dinner, okay?”

“Okay..” She responded as she moved a bit closer to him, “It’s nice to meet you Mr. Duncan.” Maelie reached her hand out, giving Duncan’s hand a rather firm shake. “My mom says that a good handshake creates a good first impression. Otherwise they’ll walk on you” She shrugged.

He laughed, “Well with that shake, no one will walk on you.” With that it was clear she was the perfect mix of the both of them. Of what they could have been.

#total drama #td #td courtney #total drama island #total drama world tour #td duncan #td duncney #duncney #duncan x courtney #fic #duncney fic

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tortilla-of-courage · 3 years

Note

Describing it as being like home is actually pretty accurate yeah.

And YES! I am totally willing to talk about my modern AU.

I've been calling it the Adoption AU because Time ends up adopting all of the boys. It mostly started as, I saw an edit for a tweet someone did with Wars and Wild that involved Taco Bell (cannot remember the blog or post for the life of me though), and so I wrote a thing about Warriors sneaking out of his university dorm to pick up Wild, who snuck out the window despite his broken arm, and then got extorted by Legend in exchange for silence at 3am.

This was followed by a fic where Groose decided spray painting a public building was a good idea and got himself and Sky arrested, set earlier in the timeline.

So then I made a timeline. Twilight is Time and Malon's biological son, and he found Wild on the side of the road one day (Wild's backstory involves a bad car wreck and an underground hospital, but no conspiracy bullshit. Yet). Wild has no memory, so they keep him. Wild brings home Legend, who was told his uncle died at school before a holiday. They then also keep Legend. Malon finds Four in her barn one morning for complicated reasons, and they keep him too. Twilight finds Warriors, who is in his class, hiding in an alley one day after he ran away from an abusive home and brings him home too. SS Impa (who I've nicknamed Shield because there are enough prominent Impas here that they should get nicknames too) is a social worker who's trying to find Sky a home and has run out of options, and turns to Time, who has a record of successfully housing 'unhousable' youths, and asks if he can take one more. He can. Wild finds Hyrule and brings him home because 'Rule needs a shower even more than Wild does. Hyrule stays. Wind's grandma ends up with Wind and his sister but can't financially take care of both and so Wind ends up with the boys and everyone is +1 Grandma.

Twilight has a fic detailing how he knows Midna and Dusk and I ended up shooting him (oops) but at least their social project gets handed in on time.

Then I started hashing out Time's backstory and suddenly this AU had plot. And organized crime. And a conspiracy. And secret societies.

The summarized version is that the gems from OoT are like, Idk what they do yet. Haven't gotten to a point where I need to figure that out yet. But they are Important and have to be carefully guarded. The Great Deku Tree (just called Deku because he's not a tree here) was Time's foster father before Ganondorf killed him. Also, Ganondorf is Deku's half brother. Because. However Time 'stole' the Emerald and he and Navi ran until OoT Impa (Sage) and Lullaby found them. So Time got adopted into Lullaby's family. Ruto inherited the Sapphire from her mother who also died from mysterious circumstances, and Darunia has the Ruby. Lullaby got the Ocarina from her late paternal grandmother.

Then Ganon finds them and tries to steal the Emerald from Time, so Lullaby goes looking for help and thus finds the sages. Saria is an anonymous hacker who uses the screen name 'Kokiri'. Time reveals he didn't steal the Emerald, he was Deku's heir, and then Navi goes missing. Time is home worried enough that he's physically sick, and Ganon decides to try and attack the home. Only Lullaby's family is Olde Money, and they live in a big, old manor, so Lullaby as Sheik decides to play 'Home Alone' with the secret passages in the walls and they piss off Ganon because when did that brat get a sheikah bodyguard??? Sage and Rottla (Lullaby's mother, who is fully sheikah as well) rush home from a thing and Kokiri is running a play by play watching the security cameras.

I pull in my headcanon that Time was killed in the Downfall Timeline by getting impaled on Ganon's tusk and Ganondorf stabs him with the tusk of a mounted boar head and then Sheik shows up to protect his brother, and then Mama gets home and is not happy to find this man in her home attacking her kids. Time is fine, but Navi stays missing. (She's alive tho.)

Also, Time's foster dad was the last leader of a secret society known as The Order of The Lost Woods, and Time learns this upon meeting Tatl, who gets him sucked into another event that would probably make a good action movie. I have thought too much about the Order and it's hierarchy, but what's important here is that Time ends up with a standing job offer and Tatl and he remain friends and we find out how I fit FD into this AU. It's not pretty. This is where Time loses his eye too.

The AoC came out and I added that Link in as Wild's twin brother and he shows up during the main plot.

Which starts with Twi getting kidnapped. (I'm not really meaner to him than the others, I swear, he's just the most logical choice to be Time's heir. Which he is. He doesn't know this though.)

So he's kidnapped by Ganondorf, who broke out of jail, Zant, who shot Twi in highschool, and Ghirahim, who has some history with Sky I haven't fleshed out yet and a very public rivalry with Warriors over twitter. About six weeks later Sage finds him in an abandoned warehouse (because of course) with a shackle on his left arm and a lot of new injuries. He ends up fine, but he tells Time later in the hospital what happened and he's both message and messenger and Time is this close to just committing murder. Tatl talks him down.

Somewhere here is the half finished fic where I introduce AoC Link as Luke/Knight, and this is as far as I've plotted thus far.

Other tidbits: Wild and Lullaby/Sheik are both genderfluid, Lullaby/Sheik married Ruto, Wild has a very popular YouTube channel, Twi does drag racing sometimes, Sky has a pet bird, Four has DID to explain how the Colours are here too, and Wolfie exists in the form of a random wolf-dog Wild found and brought home that Legend somehow convinced half the family was Twilight. Also, Warriors has somehow befriended an entire sorority and he doesn't know how this happened.

This... got long. As you can see I have a lot of thoughts about the Adoption AU. It's gotten a bit away from me, I'll admit. This went from 'Wild does stunts on his motorbike and keeps breaking bones but somehow not the bike' to 'Twilight got kidnapped and Time is the target of a mafia that Ganon runs and also maybe killed a man once' and I don't know how that happened. Also, this is the condensed version of the summary. My actual summary/outline is much, much longer than this. So if there's any detail you want more on, feel free to say so and I'll happily go into more detail (there are so many things I didn't even mention....)

And yes, Robbie having a bong is very important to my best friend, for some reason. He has one in a modern AU and he probably invented one in canon. I happen to agree that this makes sense for his character, if anyone would invent a bong in LoZ it's Robbie (this is such an anticlimactic end to this ask after the stuff about the modern AU...)

Also, sorry for the long ass ask. I genuinely don't know how to condense the Adoption Au down any further. There's a lot of important plot beats to cover, and I still skipped things.

-Attllhak

oh my GOD???? if you ever write and post this somewhere id love to read it, the level of "crazy" conspiracy/action movie elements implemented sound sosososo cool, from Ganondorf being Deku's half brother to trying to "send a message" via Twi and- just- all of this is SO good.i sat here and reread this ask like 3 times as if that would magically spawn more info about it ahaha

there's so much to unpack here but it's honestly so worth it i love every single detail!!! i can imagine the actual outline being way longer, nad honestly that just makes me the more excited/curious about all that might be missing from this ask - i cant believe it started with Wild and Wars going to Taco Bell of all things

also i can totally see Robbie making a bong, no matter the setting or AU. fits him a lot I'd say

and dont worry about long asks!! i adore opening up my askbox to see one ask take over the entire thing, it makes me really happy aha

#attllhak #im once again rendered speechless (in a good way) by your creative mind attllhak #tortilla asks #long post #linked universe #ask to tag #injury mention

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catboymingi · 3 years

Text

daddy

navi/masterlist

pairing: mingi x reader

genre: fluff; somewhat family au

word count: 3k

warnings: i don’t think there are any!

a/n: literally this is the purest fluff ever don’t assume freaky things - also this is inspired by @latte-fairytaekwoon s super soft scenario!

sometimes the biggest gifts are ones you don’t even realise you’re giving

sometimes, you suspected that mingi loved your daughter more than he loved you. she wasn’t even his daughter, yet he would give her the entire world if he could, absolutely in love with her. and though you’d pout at him and tell him that he was your boyfriend, not hers, you secretly were just glad that he’d accepted her as part of his family so readily, even when he’d been far from ready for a child when he’d first gotten to know you. but he’d fallen for you, for you and your positive attitude and the way you managed to see something good in everything. and when he’d met your daughter - of whom you’d informed him right away, just so you both wouldn’t waste your time - he was sold, entirely in love with that little bundle of joy that had immediately found enjoyment in the zippers on his pants when you’d brought him over, your mum smiling at him brightly when she saw him coo at the much much smaller human, not even caring that if your daughter was just that tiniest bit taller she’d probably have unzipped his pants all the way up to his waist, revealing his underwear for all to see.

the first weeks after that he’d often be found watching baby tutorials on youtube, leaving him to be teased by his friends that told him they hadn’t known he was into milfs, at which he’d defended you, saying that you weren’t just a milf but an incredibly kind, strong, amazing, beautiful, impressive, inspiring-

at which point his friends had interrupted him, saying that they were just joking, but that they’d love to meet you someday, which is how you’d found yourself accidentally collecting seven uncles for your daughter without any conscious efforts from your part.

and all eight of them had stuck, the boys even offering to play babysitter when mingi and you wanted some time for yourself, wanted to go on dates or even just wanted to relax. you were grateful for all of them, but you were the most grateful for the man who’d become your boyfriend and had accepted your daughter as a part of his life just as readily as he’d accepted you. he’d tried his hardest to support you, to take as much of the father role as was okay, he’d done all he could to catch up on all the things you’d learned in those two years you’d already had her. he’d supported you in your studies - which you’d thought you’d have to put off at least until your daughter was in school, but mingi wasn’t having that, giving you the option to study as soon as you moved in together at age 20, a year after you’d started dating -, he’d supported you financially, and most of all he’d made you feel like you no longer had to handle everything by yourself. he maybe wasn’t perfect, but he tried his best, and that was as close to perfect as even a biological father could ever get.

and he stayed. even when you argued - which you did sometimes, it was inevitable with all the stress and all the insecurities both of you held - he’d never not once threatened to leave, never not once told you that he wanted to break up, never not once even hinted at it during your arguments. instead he’d waited until both of you were calm and able to think clearly, and he’d asked you if you thought it might be better if you ended things, and both of you had talked about things without upset emotions, calmly and rationally. and every single time you came to the same conclusion - you were the best thing that had ever happened to each other. so you stayed together, and over time both of you got more secure in your relationship and in being good enough for the other, even when he wasn’t your daughter’s father and even when you came in a package deal with a child from a past relationship. you made it work, you loved each other, and mingi loved your daughter just as much as you did; it didn’t matter to him that he wasn’t her biological father, because over the years he’d come to feel like she was his daughter, even if only emotionally. it didn’t matter much to him.

your daughter loved mingi, too. adored him, adored the sweet giant that had her win all the fights in kindergarten by just threatening to get him, because his height and his deep voice were enough to scare off the kids that didn’t know that he’d happily bought himself princess-adjacent clothes so he could play royal tea party with her, that only knew how intimidating he looked. he made sure she never had to miss anything, and it seemed like she never did.

“will daddy be here soon?”, she asked on her seventh birthday, though, surprising you a little because she hadn’t asked about her father ever since you’d told her, once you deemed her old enough to know, that things hadn’t worked out with her father, but that you hoped that mingi, who’d been your boyfriend since she was two, could be enough for her. it was obvious he loved her, absolutely adored her, so it was not a matter of him accepting her - she’d just have to accept him as the man in your life, too. and she did seem to, still seemed to even after she knew that he wasn’t her actual father, which was why asking about her father more than a year after she’d last mentioned him striked you as especially odd. it worried you a little, to be honest, made you sad to feel like you couldn’t give her what she wanted for her birthday, couldn’t have her daddy be there with her.

“no, i don’t think he’s coming at all, darling”, you told her, patting her head softly, trying to comfort her.

“who’s not coming?”, your boyfriend (who had taken the day off because he couldn’t miss his little gem’s birthday, absolutely not) asked, having overheard the last part of the conversation from when he passed by in the hallway, and now his party hat-clad head was poking into the living room curiously.

“you lied!”, your daughter told you accusingly, “daddy’s already here!”

the emotions both you and mingi experienced in that moment could not be put into words. you were so indescribably happy about this, happier than you ever thought you’d be, because she’d accepted the man that had been there for you since you were nineteen and still struggling to figure out how to deal with the whole teen mum thing as a part of your family, a real part of it.

and mingi? he was proud, mostly. happy, touched, but mainly proud. proud that he’d managed to make her feel as loved, as appreciated and as important as a biological parent would have. proud that he’d been doing a good enough job at taking care of his little family for your daughter to fully accept him. proud that she’d made this choice, and it was a choice, because she knew he wasn’t her biological father, she was old enough to understand this, old enough to understand that technically, he wasn’t her daddy. but now he was.

“oh, you meant mingi?”, unable to hide the surprise in your voice as you tried to play it off as if it was no big deal despite the way your heart was racing.

“of course, i don’t have another daddy”, she just explained, then got up from the sofa to run over towards him who was now fully in the door frame, holding out his arms to catch her little form because from the way she was running he could just tell she was going to jump into his arms.

“happy birthday, princess”, mingi said after he’d peppered her little glitter-covered face in kisses, having to stop himself from ruffling her beautifully braided, tiara-adorned hair because she’d probably be angry if he ruined her hairstyle.

“why are you home?”, she asked, knowing that he was usually at work at this time, when she came back from school.

“i had to cook my princess a birthday meal”, he informed her, bragging a little by calling it a meal when it was really just a huge portion of her favourite instant ramen and a few cups of mug cake - which he’d covered in sprinkles, the most cooking he’d actually done by himself without a recipe.

“don’t get your hopes up”, you teased him by warning your daughter, “you know he’s not good at cooking.”

“but daddy tried! that’s what counts”, she insisted, and there it was again, that little word that made his heart skip a beat or seven when she said it. still, he wanted to be sure that she didn’t feel pressured to call him dad if she didn’t feel comfortable with it, if she didn’t want to.

“you know you don’t have to call me dad, right, princess? i’ll love you just as much if you just call me mingi.”

“do you not want to be my dad?”, big round eyes staring at his face insecurely, scared she wasn’t good enough because she wasn’t biologically his, and he immediately went to reassure her, because he couldn’t accept it if she even for a second doubted how much he wanted her to see him as her dad.

“no, princess, i want to, don’t worry! you’re my little girl, have been ever since i saw your cute little face for the first time. but i know i’m not actually your father, so i don’t want to take that spot if you don’t want me to, you know? just in case you’d rather have a real dad.”

“you are a real dad”, she shut him down, little hands clinging onto his shirt tightly as she continued.

“you’ve always been with mommy, and you bring me to school every single morning and cut my sandwiches into silly shapes” - an art he’d secretly practiced whenever he’d had the time - “and you cuddle me when i’m sad and protect me from the closet monster. if that’s not what makes you a real dad then i don’t need a real dad.”

these words were incredibly serious for a seven-year-old, but they came from the heart, and they left both you and mingi furiously blinking away the tears that were threatening to spill.

“thank you”, he told her, even though she didn’t fully realise why yet. she didn’t fully realise just how much these words meant to you two. in all honesty, she hadn’t thought about it much, it had kind of been obvious to her that mingi was her dad - he’d acted like it ever since she could remember and probably longer.

“stop crying, daddy”, she ordered him in reply, because he’d apparently not been fast enough at blinking his tears away, “it’s my birthday so you’re not allowed to cry.”

the sternness in her little voice made him laugh, her shaking in his arms as his body vibrated, both her and you quickly joining in on his laughter, so that the somewhat serious atmosphere returned to one of bubbliness and excitement.

“i want my cake now” was her next order, telling mingi, her noble steed, to bring her to the kitchen, which he immediately did, no hesitation, no complaints even when she used his ears as the reins, pulling on them to urge him to move faster.

“you get to pick which one you want, that’s why there’s no candle yet”, you explained once in the kitchen, your boyfriend proudly showing off the mug cakes he’d made and maybe talking about himself in third person so he could call himself her daddy, though if you’d comment on it he’d without a doubt deny it.

she picked the one with the most sprinkles - you swore if you hadn’t been there when she’d been conceived you wouldn’t be able to say without a doubt that mingi wasn’t her dad, because by now she had more of him than she had of you -, eyes shining brightly when he lit the candle for her, blowing it out with way more force than was needed for a single candle, but it was just so incredibly adorable that you of course had to clap for her to show her how proud you were of her birthday candle blowing skills.

“let’s eat, shall we?”, and only because it was her birthday was she allowed to start with the mug cake rather than the actual meal, eating it at a speed that had you worried she’d get a bellyache later.

and as if mingi could read your thoughts he asked her to eat a little slower, so she’d be able to enjoy it longer and so her upset tummy wouldn’t ruin her birthday. he really did act like her father, having learned all the essentials about raising children in the time you’d allowed him in your life already. it only made you love him more.

and you swore your love for him couldn’t have gotten bigger when soon after he leaned in to you, mouth close to your ear to ask a question he’d secretly wondered about forever now, but had never dared to bring up because he didn’t think your daughter would ever want it.

“do you think she’d let me adopt her?”, your love asked you quietly, though apparently not quiet enough for her not to hear.

“you could do that? even though i’m already big?”

“if your mommy lets me then i could do that. you’d just have to want it, too”, smiling across the table at her chocolate-covered face as she looked at him curiously.

“and then you’d be my dad for everyone else too?”, and the rest of her mug cake was momentarily neglected as her bright, hopeful eyes looked at him, excited about the prospect of being able to show him off as her dad; because while he most definitely was her dad to her she wanted him to be her official dad, to be her dad in a way no one could argue with.

“yup. i’ll even still be your dad if your mommy doesn’t like me anymore.”

“don’t say that”, you told mingi, not even wanting to imagine a day where you’d not be with him anymore, the thought alone enough to make you sad.

and mingi seemed to notice that, the little bit of residual insecurity about him not actually wanting to stay with you long-term, so he added on: “though i won’t make it that easy for her. i’m going to stay with you two unless she drags me out by the ear. which she won’t, because she can’t reach my ears”, joking only so your daughter wouldn’t notice how he was trying to reassure you that he didn’t plan on leaving, and especially not if he did adopt your little gem.

“when can you start adopting me?”, the little girl asked, her birthday seemingly entirely forgotten about because this was so much better.

“i’ll have to talk to mommy about it, but we can do that tonight after we brought you to bed, and then we can see what we need to do. does that sound okay?”, a question directed at both her and you, to which you were the one to answer.

“that sounds perfect.”

“you have to say yes because it’s my birthday”, a stern little voice told you, causing yet another bright smile to appear on both you and your boyfriend’s faces.

“i’ll keep that in mind. want to get your presents now? and we can eat the ramen afterwards.”

her small head bobbed up and down enthusiastically, tiara almost falling off, and then she was running to the living room, looking like a little bunny because her step was so bouncing that she might as well have hobbled there.

“which one is daddy’s?”, she asked, carefully examining the two presents - one big, one small - to figure it out for herself, though without success.

“we got both of them together”, he explained while you pouted at her, because not only did your boyfriend like your daughter more than he liked you, no, your daughter also liked your boyfriend more than she liked you. what an unfair fate.

“i’ll start with the big one!”, ripping at the paper with an enthusiasm you could only wish she’d ever have when it came to her homework, quickly revealing a princess dollhouse - dollcastle? -, which made her squeal in excitement.

“this is so cool! thank you, thank you!”, one of her tiny arms wrapping around one of your and one of mingi’s thighs, pulling you into a kind of awkward but incredibly precious group hug.

“we have another one, angel”, you reminded her, which caused her energy to be focused back on opening the second package, though you told her to be careful with that one because if she wasn’t she might break the present, the only warning that worked as she now carefully unwrapped it.

“what’s this?”, holding up what looked like a reading exercise to her with a bewildered expression, and maybe it was a reading exercise, but an amazing one.

“read what it says”, smiling down at her with your love’s arm around your waist as he watched her just as fondly as you did.

“amusement park?”, she asked, her head shooting up as soon as she’d made out the most important words, and when you nodded she placed the tickets back in the box, with all the self control she held in her little body, before she started jumping up and down excitedly, grabbing one of each of you’s hands as she tried to get you to jump along.

“amusement park with mommy and daddy! this is the best present in the world!”, little hands clapping excitedly as she smiled up at you, and in that moment it seemed like she had more energy in her significantly smaller form than both you and mingi probably held combined.

little did she know though that no present you could ever get her would be better than the one she’d given you today.

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collecting-stories · 4 years

Text

Invisible Strings - John B Routledge

Request: Hi welcome back!!! I hope you are doing well ❤️ I am literally so obsessed with Folklore I would die for anything John B/Folklore. Maybe invisible string or peace?❤️

A/N: Okay so I had this finished and then re-wrote it this afternoon so hopefully it’s good...god I actually haven’t written Outer Banks in like a month.

The TS Anthology Series | Outer Banks Masterlist

✰...one single thread of gold tied me to you✰

_ . ◦ ⭐︎:*.☾.*:⭐︎◦∙._

“I always forget that this is still here.” You mused, running your fingers over the carved part of the baseboard.

John B looked over from the box he was packing, old dishware that had been given to his mom and dad when they were first married, stashed away in the house for a time that never came. It would go to the thrift shop tomorrow morning along with other, now useless items that littered the small house. On Monday you would call the realty office on the island and inquire about putting the place up for sale. John B had seen an apartment for rent, beach side, closer to Figure Eight, nicer than the Chateau and he’d suggested it as a starter apartment, something small that you both could afford.

“Where was it going to go?” He teased, walking over to you. He pressed his legs against your back and you leaned your head to look up at him.

“You could’ve painted over it.”

❖

The year that you turned ten your mom got re-married and your step-father decided to relocate the family to Tennessee where his new job would be. You cried for days over the prospect of leaving the Outer Banks but it wasn’t your decision, all you could do in the end was pack your belongings and move. In what little defiance you were awarded as a ten-year-old you climbed underneath the bed and carved your name into the baseboard. You thought about including some ominous request, perhaps a clumsily drawn ‘help me’ but decided against it at the last moment. Your mom was much more excited to be moving into what she claimed was a nice, big, house in Tennessee with your soon to be ‘new dad’. A step-up from the shoebox shack that you’d been getting by in. 

The house was sold almost immediately to a man and his young son, downsizing after his wife left them with next to nothing. Two bedrooms was all he needed and the view of the marsh was better than he expected to get in his financial state. His son was unbothered either way, sure they were moving but that only meant they were in a new house. He would still go to the same school and see the same people. Though he rode his bike passed his old house often that first year, wishing he could walk up the front steps and go through the door and everything would be the same.

The carving remained unseen until he was thirteen. His best friend JJ was trying to flip off the bed when he fell against it, pushing it away from the wall. His head landed next to the baseboard. While most kids might’ve cried from the possible concussion JJ just rolled onto his stomach to get a better look at the wall and the writing engraved in it.

“Look.” He reached up to smack John B’s arm and pointed at the name carved into the wood, “you got a ghost.”

“It’s not a ghost you moron,” John B laughed once he’d seen the carving for himself, “probably the girl who used to live here.” He’d lived with pink walls, stenciled with butterflies for a year and a half before Big John finally caved and spent some of his money on paint instead of alcohol.

After that John B found an odd sense of comfort in the carving. Sometimes he did his homework laying on the ground with your name staring back at him. A sort of imaginary friend he was too old to have. And when Big John disappeared at sea John B pulled the blankets off the bed and laid with his head at the baseboard, crying alone in his room while his uncle watched TV, oblivious to his nephew’s heartache.

That same year, while they were still combing the shoreline for any sign of Big John’s boat, you and your mom arrived back in North Carolina. You were 16 and she was heartbroken, disillusioned with love and taking every opportunity to caution you against it too. You ignored most of her bitterness, concerned only with the new house and the new life that you were expected to settle into. The cottage style home was so close to the Outer Banks that you could see the island in the distance on the other side of the bay. Your mom talked about fresh starts and got a job working for the Department of Child Services. 

It was the year you heard John B Routledge’s name for the first time. She’d come in from work every day that summer and curse about the delinquent teen. It was her greatest source of reassurance that you didn’t hang around wayward teenagers who, though still grieving the loss of their father, unsure of their place in the world now that they were alone, were expected to move on from that. 

“Placing him with a family is going to be hell. No one is going to want to put out the effort for two years...I’m sure he’ll skip town the second he turns 18.” She would bitch over a bottle of white wine. 

“He could stay here?” It was a pointless suggestion. Your mother would likely strangle him in his sleep if he lived with you. 

“Absolutely not! I’m not a charity.” She had taken up social work only so her psychology degree wouldn’t be wasted but you thought maybe some people did belong behind a desk, in a cubicle, somewhere. Certainly not caring for children.

Either way you weren’t too bothered to listen to those stories. You liked the thought of John B Routledge. He was like some character in a book, too good to be true. His story sounded sad but he didn’t. His life wasn’t a boring repetition of school and work and friends you didn’t particularly like. He was above all that. Like a Jesse Tuck, young forever, stuck on some magical island that you could see but never be a part of again.

After graduation that all changed, just as life was starting to change. You got a job working in a beach front surf shop on the island. It was your first big strike out into the unknown and your mom was less than thrilled that you would be living in the Outer Banks until college started in the fall. But you’d saved enough to rent space and someone had listed a room available online. The ad boasted lots of outdoor area and featured a picture of a hammock and a VW bus behind it.

“How do you know that it’s not some ploy to traffic young women and take them overseas or down to Mexico?” Your mom had pestered you as you dragged your suitcase out of the house to meet the Uber that would take you to the ferry. Away from boring hopefully. At least for a summer.

“I‘ll let you know if I end up overseas.”

“This isn’t funny!”

“You’re being ridiculous mom, I already texted with the kid who owns the house, he’s like my age.” You replied. Someone named John had texted you after you emailed about the room. He seemed nice, he was funny, no red flags had gone up in your mind. The name hadn’t even occurred to you. It’d been a few months since you’d heard any mention of your mother’s tormentor.

It was JJ’s idea to lease the room. The two needed extra money and working the docks or waiting tables or mowing lawns hadn’t cut it. JJ had two jobs to support his half of the rent and John B was working all kinds of hours when JJ suggested that they split it three ways.

“Get a renter in here, it’s perfect.”

“Yeah okay,” John B agreed because he wanted to keep his dad’s house and that seemed like the most logical way to go about it.

You weren’t what he was expecting when you arrived. Having never rented before he’d spent more time making sure you could afford payments than he had finding out any details about you at all. But you stepped out of the car regardless and the immediate sense of nostalgia hit you like a wave. You didn’t mention that you used to live here and John B was too focused on getting through the tour of the shack that he didn’t even register the name you gave him.

“This’ll be your room.”

And just like that you were in each other’s space. Like two timelines fusing together, one of you had swerved and tangled your lives into a mess of summer and shameless flirting and parties on the beach. You realized early on that this John was your infamous John B Routledge, teenage outlaw, sadder in real life than you ever gave him the range for. You liked talking to him late at night when JJ was already passed out or lingering close to him at parties. Everyone, his friends and your new, adopted friends, knew that there was something there but none of them realized how deep it ran. Even you didn’t.

It wasn’t until August of that summer, when John B was out and you were left in the Chateau by yourself, that you had wandered into his bedroom and pushed the bed away from the wall. There on the baseboard was the first of a million signs, the first place in your parallel timelines where your stories overlapped. The bed had knicked the wall enough times that the writing almost blended in with the other scratches but you could see your name clearly when you knelt down.

“What’re you doing in my room?” John B’s voice caught you by surprise and you turned too quickly, falling over, killing whatever tension might’ve arose from finding you supposedly snooping in his space. He cracked a smile and went to offer you a hand up.

“Sorry, I-” you let him pull you to your feet, his skin warm against yours, “I wanted to see if it was still here.”

“What?” He looked rightfully confused.

“I...carved that.”

“That was you?”

And somehow it was just a question of who had vandalized his bedroom but who had been there when he was fourteen and got so angry at his dad that he had slammed the door and jammed the lock. When he was sixteen, crying for days because his dad was missing and no one could tell him anything. When he was eighteen and all his friends were graduating from high school but he had failed out so terribly that his only options were repeat or get a GED. When you pulled up outside for the first time that summer and something in him just seemed to make sense, like all those loose puzzle pieces had figured out their pattern.

❖

“What’s the matter?” John B asked, fitting the last box of donations into the Twinkie. You had followed him outside but you were just standing on the steps, staring out toward the jetty.

It’d been four years of moving you in and out of dorm rooms, returning each time to this house. Four years of navigating dating when you already lived together, kicking JJ out when he interrupted nights you were supposed to have alone, avoiding every visit your mom ever made after she realized that the boy you were living with was the same one who’d caused her so much trouble years earlier. It was every argument, every holiday, every movie marathon, every stupid party, every lazy sunday...You’d spent ten years in that house without a friend in the world and John B had spent another eight trying to keep his head above water only to realize that what you had both needed all along was each other.

“Let’s not sell.”

“You wanna live here?” John B asked, sounding a little more surprised than he should’ve been. The apartment was everything he knew he was supposed to want but really he just wanted to stay in the Chateau with you.

“We already live here.”

“Yeah but...Heyward said there are a lot of repairs that need to be done. Electrical stuff, plumbing, new water heater, new windows, the floor needs to be-”

“John B.” You stopped him short, walking the rest of the way down the steps to meet him in the yard.

“What?”

“Live in our house with me? Forever?” You asked, watching the smile that blossomed at your words.

“Okay.”

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suitofvibraniumarmor · 4 years

Text

If You Just Realize

Part One: Blindsided

Summary: Sebastian’s close friend stands by his side as he and his family say a sad goodbye and face new obstacles in the days and weeks to come. Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader Word Count: 1900 Warnings: Death, angst, sadness. Lots of creative licensing, I’m sure. Square Filled: This entire series will fill my realized feelings square for @marvelfluffbingo. A/N: I’ve much enjoyed writing this series, and I hope all of you enjoy reading it! The tag list is open; requests to be added can be done so here. There are bits and pieces of Romanian throughout the series, mostly from Google Translate and the few things I’ve picked up as I learn the language. Happy Reading!

Dismal notes sounded together in morbid harmony throughout the church as funeral attendees greeted each other in the lobby. The people filed together toward the sanctuary, offering condolences to the family as they passed. Sebastian did his best to be cordial, but between his grief and looking out for the one other person he needed to be there, he feared he wasn’t doing so well interacting with the guests.

“Calma, Sebastian,” his mother soothed, rubbing a hand over his back before she went to accept the outstretched hand of another guest. “Y/N will be here. She said she will be here, she will be here.”

Sebastian nodded and gave the next person in line a tight, sad smile. He knew that Y/N would be there; she always was when he asked for her support. The unexpected circumstances of his life, however, made him anxious for her presence.

In the last few days, Sebastian had thought often of a song released sometime around his senior year of high school. The real troubles in life, the spoken-word song warned, are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at four P.M. on some idle Tuesday. The hour was earlier than four in the afternoon, but it was a Tuesday when he received the call telling him that his sister Irina had been involved in a fatal car accident on her way to work that morning. The doctors had been optimistic taking her into surgery, but her injuries were more extensive than the hospital staff had been able to read on x-rays and CT scans. While on the operating table, Irina’s heart stopped. The surgeon had been unable to restart the organ.

A pleasantly feminine, floral scent invaded his nostrils as soft fingers intertwined with his, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked to his side to see Y/N Y/L/N next to him. Her eyes met his, and she squeezed his hand.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, Seb. LaGuardia was a disaster.”

He leaned to kiss her cheek. “Don’t apologize. Thank you for coming. I’m not sure I could have done this without you.”

“Even if you could, I wouldn’t have let you,” she returned.

Finally, the last of the guests had filed into the sanctuary, and the family could take their places at the front. Sebastian’s mother stepped out of line to hug Y/N and thank her also for being there. Y/N replied in Romanian, something she had learned after becoming friends with Sebastian all those years ago. She wasn’t fluent, but she could comfortably hold a conversation.

“Trebuia să fiu aici.” She had to be there, not from a sense of obligation, but because she wanted to support Sebastian and his family in whatever way she could.

When they were all seated, Sebastian between his mother and Y/N, and his stepfather on the other side of his mother, the priest began the service. Sebastian hadn’t let go of Y/N’s hand since she had intertwined their fingers when she arrived. Occasionally, he would squeeze her hand, and she squeezed back every time. If he needed the reminder that she was there, then she would give it.

After the eulogy and the singing and the praying had all wrapped up, Sebastian stepped out of the pew with the other pallbearers to carry his sister’s casket to the church parking lot where the hearse was waiting to take her to the cemetery. He clenched his jaw in an effort to hold back the tears glazing over his eyes.

Y/N walked behind his mother and stepfather in the processional out of the sanctuary but hung back with the crowd when the walked to the car at the front of the line of cars. Georgeta turned and motioned for her to join.

“We know what you mean to my Sebastian,” the older woman assured. “Irina would want you with us as much as possible today.”

Y/N gave her a tight smile and followed the family into the black limousine. Sebastian joined them a couple of minutes later, sliding onto the seat beside her. He took her hand again.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he told her quietly as the driver pulled out of the church lot.

She nodded once. “Your mother said Irina would want it this way. I was going to ride with someone else, or take a cab.”

“No, you should be here with us. Mom’s right, Irina would want it this way. But I mean here. For the whole thing.”

She squeezed his hand and held his gaze. “Seb. There’s no way I wasn’t going to be here. I’m around as long as you need me to be, okay?”

He swallowed down the lump in his throat and kissed her forehead. Besides his mother and his sister, no woman was close to him like Y/N. They had become friends when they both had bit parts in the same movie, extremely early on in their careers. The friendship had clicked so easy, they kept in touch and grew closer as the years went on. The media had speculated for years that they were more than friends, but romance had never been a part of their relationship.

After the burial, the day was only partially over. Sebastian was ready to go home and rest, but there was a whole wake to get through yet. He hoped the gathering would pass quickly and maybe he wouldn’t be required to interact with too many people.

Guests were busy eating the well-catered food, which gave him the opportunity to visit more with his mother and stepfather. Y/N had gone to the bathroom to freshen up, giving his mother the opportunity to bring up an issue that she hadn’t wanted to stress her son over until they got through the burial.

“Irina and I talked once about what to do if something like this happened,” Georgeta began. “It was not long after the baby was born. She was supposed to get it in writing, make it all legal. But she was going to school, raising her daughter. She didn’t get it done. And now …”

Sebastian licked his lips and picked up his water glass. “Now it’s too late.”

Georgeta nodded. “She wanted you to take Milena.”

Some mechanism in the swallowing process malfunctioned when his mother made the announcement. He coughed and attempted to clear his throat without causing too much of a scene. He had all but recovered when Y/N returned to the table.

“Everything all right?” she asked, patting him a couple of times on the back. Nobody said anything. She raised her brow, waiting for Sebastian to come clean.

Before he could answer, the sound of little feet running in their direction put a halt to the conversation. A little girl in a black dress with curly pigtails was rushing towards them, her arms outstretched.

“Uncle Seb!”

“Milena!” Sebastian exclaimed, stepping out of his chair and swooping the toddler up into his arms. Her chubby little hands squeezed his face so that his lips puckered like a fish. Sebastian laughed and switched his hold to balance her on his hip. “I’m so glad you’re here, munchkin. I missed you.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder and whispered, “Miss you.”

Georgeta and Anthony greeted the little girl, but she refused to be held by anyone except Sebastian. Once her grandmother and grandfather were distracted in conversation by the woman who had brought Milena to the reception, the girl pointed to Y/N.

“Uncle Seb, who that is?”

Sebastian smiled and sat with Milena so that she could be closer to eye level with Y/N. “This is my very good friend, Y/N. You met her before, but you were a tiny baby, so you probably don’t remember.”

Y/N smiled kindly at the little girl. “Hello, Milena. Your Uncle Seb told me you were pretty. I like your dress — you look just like a princess.”

That was all it took to win the little girl over. She settled comfortably on Seb’s lap while they adults spoke, smiling often at Y/N and asking a couple questions here and there. Y/N was making faces in an effort to make Milena laugh, and distract her from the somewhat heated conversation that seemed to be erupting between the woman who had brought Milena, Sebastian, and his parents. When the voices really got loud, Y/N reached out to take Milena.

“Are you hungry, princess? We can see what snacks are left at the food table.”

Milena went willingly, walking hand in hand with Y/N, who winked at Sebastian over her shoulder as they walked away. He gave her a grateful smile and turned back to his parents and Milena’s paternal grandmother, Alice.

“I know that Connor didn’t want to part of Milena’s life,” Alice was saying, “but that doesn’t mean Tim and I don’t want to be. My son’s choices are his own. I think we should explore the option of joint custody.”

Anthony sighed. “We don’t want to keep Milena from you, certainly, but Irina’s wishes were for her to be with her uncle. My daughter was very clear on the matter. Since Connor signed his rights away when the baby was born, I think it best that we honor what her mother wanted for her.”

“I can give her a very good life,” Sebastian interjected, “and you can see her whenever you like. I live right here in the city.”

Alice pursed her lips. “And when you’re working? I know you can afford to give her a good life, but there’s more to raising a child than the financial component.”

Sebastian bit his tongue. He had a lot to say, but none of it was kind or productive. None of it was going to help his case. He leaned back in his chair, letting his parents take over from there. As he glanced around the room, he saw Y/N and Milena standing by the food table. Both of them were smiling, and Milena was pointing to all the different things she wanted to try. Y/N held the plate with two hands as she crouched down so that Milena could pick up a grape in one hand and a cube of cheese in the other. Milena took a bite of the cheese then grinned up at Y/N, wrinkling her little nose.

The scene comforted him in a way he didn’t think was possible up to that moment. As he continued to watch his best friend and his niece interact, the seed of an idea was planted in Sebastian’s mind. He immediately told himself he was being ridiculous, but the thought tugged at his heartstrings and pulled on one end of his mouth, almost evoking a smile.

Y/N locked eyes with him as she followed Milena back to the table, a silent warning that any arguments needed to come to a stop. As the conversation between Alice and his parents didn’t seem to be slowing down, Sebastian pushed out of his chair and approached them.

“How about I take my two favorite girls to the park across the street? I know a little girl who loves to swing,” Sebastian smiled.

Milena clapped her sticky hands and reached for Sebastian to pick her up. He obliged, and once she had set Milena’s plate of snacks on the table, Y/N followed them out to the park.

AllOfTheThings: @captain-s-rogers @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @hurricanerin @horsesandbandsforlife @im-not-an-armrest-im-short @captain-rogers-beard @shynara51 @sea040561 @pinknerdpanda @xtina2191 @jackryanplz @beakami @heartsaved @fullprunerebelstatesman @blackwidowismyhomegirl @averyrogers83 @jennmurawski13

IYJR: @elsatxx @tanelle83 @amanda-teaches @etherealwaifgoddess @kmuir1 @ntlmundy @jayankles @rebekahdawkins @denise1605 @rhadigen

#marvelfluffbingo2020 #sebastian stan #fanfiction #reader insert #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian x reader #fluff #angst #drama #tw: death #queue and i remember budapest very differently

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thiswaycomessomethingwicked · 3 years

Note

7, 8, 9 and 14 for the fic asks! Also, I absolutely love your writing and I wish you the best!

Awww thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoy it! 😊

7. Something you hate to see in dialogue.

I don't know that there's anything I particularly hate. Or, nothing has jumped out at me where I'm like "OH GOD HOW COULD THEY"

I suppose, there are times when there hasn't been enough tag-ins of who is speaking so I have to go back to the top and reread the section. But that's more a style thing.

Oh, dialects/modes of speech when written by someone who clearly isn't from that culture/place/peoples and hasn't done the research and so on to do it effectively (e.g. non-southerners trying to mimic southern speech patters and a) assuming the entire south of the US is a single unit that sounds the same and b) not managing to capture the texture of the way people speak). It's mostly that it just throws me off and takes me out of the scene.

8. Something you love to see in dialogue.

A good witty repartee is always enjoyable. I enjoy when action is conveyed through speech, example:

Right. I can’t believe I once thought you clever and worthy of my attention. More fool me, for trusting a thing like you. More fool Théoden, too. No. Don’t sit there. Did I say you could sit? No, I didn’t.

'Gods, you're a real louse sometimes, you know that right?'

'Thank you, Downey, you've told me this before.'

'Well, I felt the need to re-inform you of the matter. Now, please move your books, thank you, they were occupying my spot at the table. Don't make that face, DB, it's unattractive.'

That sort of thing. It's very fluid and can be used to capture a more hectic scene without breaking for "and then Vetinari did X" or "and Grima went over here" or what have you.

9. What's your fandom's most overused trope?

(I'm going to speak cross-fandom in this answer because what is over-used shows up in a few of them.)

I'm not a big coffee-shop/high school/university AU sort of person. But I think it's honestly less to do with the settings and more to do with how people are written in those AUs which is usually saccharinely sweet and that drives me a little nuts.

I also find that fandom overdoes the thing with gay couples where one man is, even if it's at a subconscious level, the "woman" and the other is the "man". This leads into that saccharine sweetness that annoys me, it also tends to mean there's a lot of OOC-ness happening. I've found it's a big thing with characters like Krennic, Vetinari, Bilbo, Beckett etc. where they are written in a way that is very out of character but the manner they are written in allows them to be slotted into the "woman" role in comparison to their partner (Tarkin, Vimes, Thorin, Mercer etc.)

Some of this comes from the fact that a lot of writers in fandom struggle to write characters that subvert and transgress certain expectations of gender roles in a way that isn't "they're now a woman." Which is a very layered, complex thing.

And like, I'm sure this is something I've fallen into accidentally myself, but it is a sort-of trope(?) that bugs me and is super common.

14. What aspect of writing have you had the most growth in?

all of it! I would say. I think my writing on the whole has grown tremendously in the past few years. Especially the past three to five, I think.

One of the biggest things that helped me grow, aside from the usual advice of: read, read, read (and read real books! Read widely! Read everything!) was attending writer's workshops.

I'm a writer of non-fanfic things (poetry, short stories, novels [though, those are in the works/being shopped around]) and going to workshops has done amazing things. Almost everything is online now, and there are workshops that are absolutely in the affordable range.

I've also been very fortunate to have a writing mentor for a time who was (and is) a phenomenal poet. One of the most talented writers I know. She, unfortunately, has gone out east to start a cult as pandemic isolation coupled with unresolved trauma that had been resurrected resulted in her going a little Off the Deep End (I have a lot of complex feelings about what happened with her). But prior to that, she was great to work with and helped me a lot.

Also, of course, I've taken a lot of classes and each one has taught me so much (Catapult offers some good online courses. They do cost money, but it's worth it if you can afford it. I think they also have scholarship/financial support options).

Writing poetry is really the thing I can point to that helped me the most with my prose. Night and day. And I suspect the inverse works as well (prose writing helping poets). Learning how form and words and style functions in an art-form that's different teaches you new things to do with your preferred writing method.

But yeah - I think everything has improved. Pacing, plot, description, dialogue etc. I don't think one thing in particular has improved at a greater rate than the others. It's all there.

Oh man that last one became a short essay! My apologies!

But thank you so much for the ask and the very kind message 💜😊

fanfic ask meme

#ask #fic asks #ask meme #reply #writing #fanfc #fandom #lotr #discworld

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sarita-daniele · 3 years

Note

Hi, angel! Hope you're doing alright 💓 (hola ángel! También hablo español :) ) I was wondering if you could give some advices in starting out in an arts career?

Hola amigx, ¡perdón que nunca vi tu mensajito! I’m not on my Tumblr very often and definitely forget to check my messages. Luckily my favorite causita @luthienne told me you’d messaged me!

I don’t know what arts discipline you’re in, so feel free to let me know if the advice I have doesn’t apply to you (and ignore it!). There are so many ways to build an arts career, but I’m happy to share some things I’ve learned through trial and error along the way.

(Outrageously long post below break!)

Educate yourself in arts technique, but also study widely.

Techniques are important in art, but only as important as the concepts behind them. When I was younger, I wowed people by drawing near-photographic portraits, but that technical talent and skill alone couldn’t make me a professional artist. Memorable artwork has not just a how, but a why. It isn’t just the object but the story behind the object, and the meaning of the object in the world. Art is about what interests you, what makes you think, what you most value and want to change in this world. So as you build an arts career, learn the techniques behind drawing, woodworking, casting, writing, music-making, whatever your discipline is, but take time, if you can, to also study history, sociology, anthropology, ecology, linguistics, politics, or whatever else you’re drawn to conceptually. Study as widely as you can.

The studio art program I went through (a public university in the US) was very technique-forward; we signed up for classes according to technique, like printmaking or small metals, learned those techniques, completed technique-based assignments. Then I did a one-term exchange at arts university in the UK that was very concept-forward. We had no technical courses, just exhibition deadlines, and what mattered in critique was the concept. Both of these schools had their strengths and flaws, but what I learned was that, to be a practicing artist, I needed both technique and concepts that I genuinely cared about and could stand behind. If I could go back and change anything, I would probably take fewer studio courses (after graduating, I couldn’t afford access to a wood shop, metal shop, or expensive casting materials, and lost many of those skills) and more courses in sociology, Latin American studies, linguistics, ecology, anthropology, etc., because my artwork today centers on social justice, racial justice, Latinx stories and histories, educational access and justice, the politics of language, and community ethics.

And please know that whenever I talk about seeking an education, I’m not talking solely about institutional spaces. College career tracks in the arts (BFA, MFA, etc., much less high-cost conservatory programs) are not accessible to everyone and aren’t the only way to establish an arts career. You can study technique and learn about the world using any educational space accessible to you: nonprofits that offer programming in your community, online resources, Continuing Education programs. And of course, self-education: read as much as you possibly can!

Know the value of your story.

I come from a Cuban/Peruvian family and grew up in Albuquerque, New Mexico, USA. My father’s family fled political violence surrounding the Cuban Revolution and came to the U.S. when he was a teenager. My mother was born in Brooklyn to Peruvian parents on work visas and moved back to Lima in her childhood. I grew up with these two cultures present and deeply embedded in our household, in our language, our food, our sense of humor, our sense of history. And yet, some residual assimilation trauma still affected me. I drifted towards the most American things, the whitest things, English authors and Irish music, in part because I enjoyed them but also because those were the things I saw valued in society. I wanted to fit in, wanted to be unique but not different, wanted to prove that I could navigate all spaces. The reality of marginalized identities in America is that our country tells us our identities are only valuable when they can be seen as exotic, while still kept inferior to the dominant, white American narrative (note that this “us” is a general statement, not meant to make assumptions about how you identify or what country you live in).

But as an artist, all I have is my story, and who I am. I wasn’t willing to look at it directly. For years, I avoided doing so. It turns out, though, that I couldn’t actually begin my career until I reckoned with myself and learned to value everything about myself. To fully acknowledge my story, my history, my cultural reality, my sense of language, and my privileges. So I encourage young artists to look always inward, to ask questions about themselves, their families, and what made them who they are.

The reason for doing this is to understand the source from which you make art. Sometimes, however, for marginalized artists, the world warps this introspection into a trap, pigeonholing us into making art only “about” our identities, because that work is capital-I-Important to white audiences who want to tokenize our traumas. This is the white lens, and if anything, I try to understand myself as deeply as I can so that I can make art consciously for my community, not for that assumed white audience.

Know that your career doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s, or like anything you’ve envisioned up to this point.

As a high schooler I imagined that a life in the arts meant me in a studio, drawing and making, selling my work, getting exhibitions near and far, and gaining recognition. It was a solitary vision, one with a long history in the arts, rooted in the idea of individual genius. My career ended up completely different. Today, my arts projects involve teaching, collaborating, collecting interviews and oral histories, and creating public installations, rarely in traditional galleries or museums.

As you work towards an arts career, figure out what does and doesn’t work for you: the kind of art you like and don’t like, the kinds of spaces that feel comfortable and those that don’t. I always thought I wanted to be part of traditional galleries, so I got a job working in a high-end art gallery in Boston during my grad program. Once in that space, however— even though I found the space calming and the work beautiful— I realized that there was something that I deeply disliked about the commodified art world. I didn’t like that we were selling art for over $10,000, that our exhibitions were geared exclusively towards collectors and wealthy art-buyers. The work was often technically masterful, but didn’t move or connect with me on a deeper level, and I realized that was because it wasn’t creating any change in the world. I liked work that shifted the needle, that made the world more inclusive and equitable, that centered marginalized stories (that gallery represented 90% white artists). I liked artwork that people made together, which drew me to collaborative art. I liked artwork that was accessible to everyone, not just the wealthy, which drew me to public art. I liked art exhibited in non-institutional spaces, which led me to community spaces. Since I was in an MFA for Creative Writing, I liked interdisciplinary art that engaged performance, technology, text, that was participatory and not just a 2D or 3D object. Figuring out all of these things led me to apply to my first major arts job: as a teaching artist in a community nonprofit that made art for social change in collaboration with local youth, in a predominantly Latinx neighborhood.

My career path didn’t look like anything I expected, but I love it. The bulk of my income comes from teaching creative writing and art classes for nonprofits, working as a core member of a public arts nonprofit, and freelance consulting for book manuscripts. I love being an educator and consider it part of my creative practice. I love that I’m constantly collaborating with and talking to other artists. I love working with books and public art every day. I publish poetry, fiction, and literary translations, and exhibit artwork I’ve created in the studio and through funded opportunities.

Fellow artists tell me often that I’m lucky, that my “day jobs” are all within the arts. But there are downsides to the way I’ve chosen to structure my career. I’m constantly balancing many projects, and my income is unstable. It’s difficult to save and plan towards the future,. I get by, but financial instability isn’t an option for many artists with families and dependents, with debts, medical expenses, and just isn’t the preferred lifestyle for a lot of people. I know artists who worked office jobs for years to support their practice and gain financial stability. I know artists who had entire careers as lawyers or accountants before becoming artists full time. I know artists who teach in public schools or work as substitute teachers. I know artists who are business owners and artists who work in policy and politics. I know artists who work in framing stores and shipping warehouses while being represented by galleries. These are all arts careers, and I admire every one of them. So as you build your career, don’t feel like it has to look like anyone’s else’s, like there’s anything you “should” be doing. Focus on the kind of artwork you want to make and what kind of work-life balance is best for you, then structure your career around that as best you can.

Any job you use to support yourself can connect to an arts career!

I get asked often by young people looking for jobs what kinds of jobs will best propel them towards an arts career. I believe that any kind of job can connect to and support an arts career, and I know that some suggestions out there in the arts world (like “get an unpaid internship at an art gallery!” or “become a studio apprentice to a well-known artist!”) assume a certain amount of privilege. So I want to break down how different kinds of jobs can connect to your art career:

1) Jobs that allow for the flexibility and mental capacity to create. My friends who work restaurant jobs while going to auditions fall into this category. Who work as bartenders in evening so that they can be in the studio by day. Who dog-walk or babysit or nanny because the timing and flexibility allows for arts opportunities. My friends who are Lyft drivers or work in deliveries. These are often jobs outside of a creative field, but they can be beneficial because they don’t drain your creative batteries, so to speak. You still have your creative brain fully charged, and some jobs (like dog-walking) even allow for good mental processing (you can think through creative problems). As long as the job doesn’t drain you to the point where you have no energy at all, these kinds of jobs can be great because they allow time and space for your creative work.

2) Jobs that place you in arts spaces, arts adjacent spaces, or spaces where you can learn about material/technique. My sculptor friends who work in hardware stores, quarries, foundries, or in construction. My printmaker friend who interned with graphic designers. My writer friends who work in bookstores and libraries, artists who work in art supply stores. My friend who worked with her dad’s painting company and got to improve her precision as a painter, which she then took back to the canvas. My teen students who get paid to work on murals or get stipend payments for making art at the nonprofit I work for. My filmmaker friends who worked on film crews. Friends who worked as theater ushers, in ticket sales, or as janitorial staff at museums. All of these jobs kept these artists adjacent to their artwork, whether through access to tools, materials, supplies, or books, through networking and conversations with other artists, or through skillsets that could enhance their art.

3) Jobs that deeply engage another interest of yours, that bring you joy or can influence your work in other ways. If there’s a job that has nothing to do with your art but that you would love, do it! First, because I believe that the things we’re passionate about get integrated into our art, and second, because any job that gives you peace of mind and joy creates a positive base from which you can create. My friend who worked at a stable because she got to be around horses. My friends who worked at gyms or coaching sports because it kept them active. My friend who worked in a bike repair shop because he was obsessed with biking. An artist I knew who worked at the children’s science museum because she loved being around kids and planetariums. An artist who worked at a mineral store because rocks made her happy. If you have the opportunity, work doing things you like without worrying about whether it directly feeds your arts career.

Because believe it or not, all jobs you work can intersect in some way with your art. You’re creative— you find those connections! A Nobel-Prize winning poet helped his dad on the potato farm and wrote his best-known poem about it. Successful novelists have written about their time working in hair salons and convenience stores. A great printmaker I know who worked in a flower shop began weaving botanical forms and plant knowledge into her designs. The key in an arts career is to see all your experiences as valuable, to find ways that they can influence your art, and to be constantly thinking about and observing the world around you.

As for me, I worked as a tennis instructor, a tennis court site supervisor, an academic advisor, an art gallery intern, and a coffee shop barista before and during my work in the arts!

Let go of objective measures of what it means to be good.

I was always an academic overachiever. Top of my class, merit scholarships, science fair awards, AP credit overload, the whole thing. On the one hand, I grew up in a house where education was valued and celebrated, and my parents emphasized the importance of doing my best in school— not getting good grades, but working hard, doing my personal best, and reading and learning all I could. I loved school. I loved academics. And I’m not saying this to brag, but to lay the groundwork for something I struggled with in the arts.

It is jarring to be an academic overachiever and enter an arts career. I thrived off of objective value systems: study, work hard, get an A. If I worked hard and learned what I was supposed to learn, I earned recognition, validation, and opportunity.

And then I entered the arts. The arts are entirely subjective. We hear it over and over— great artists get rejected hundreds of times, certain art forms require cutthroat competition, etc. —but it’s hard to understand the subjectivity of the art world (and the entrenched discrimination and commercial interests that affect who gets opportunities and who doesn’t) until you’re trying to live as an artist. That you can work hard on something, give all of your time and physical effort and mental and emotional energy to it, only to have it rejected. That what you think is good isn’t what another person thinks is good. That there is a magical alchemy in the act of creation that can’t be taught, or learned, but must be felt, and that you can be working to find that light while actively others try to extinguish it. That you can be good and work hard, yet still not get chosen for the awards, the exhibitions, the publications. If you chased being “the best” your whole life, you’re now in a world where there is no “best”, where greatness is subjective, where the idea of competitive greatness is actually detrimental to artists supporting each other, and where work that sells or connects to white, cishetero traditions is still the most valued.

After struggling with this for a long time, I came to the conclusion that the most important thing to me now is making the art I want to make, the art only I can make, whether or not it fits what arts industries are looking for or what’s going to win awards. If I make art I believe in from a healthy mental and emotional place, doors will open, even if they aren’t the doors I expected. So try to let go of any sense that worth comes from external validation. Learn to accept critical feedback when it is given kindly, thoughtfully, and constructively. Surround yourself with friends and artists who who can talk to about your work, who build up your work and help you think through it rather than cutting you down. Don’t believe anyone in the arts world who thinks they get to be the arbiters of what’s “good” and who has “what it takes”. People have probably said things like that to the artists you most admire, and if they’d listened, you wouldn’t have experienced art that changed your life.

Work to gain skills in basic business, marketing, and finances for artists.

Many artists (at least where I am in the U.S.) go through an entire arts education without receiving resources or training in the financial side of the arts world. Your arts career will likely involve some degree of self-promotion and marketing, creating project budgets and grant proposals, artist statements and bios, sorting out taxes, and other economic elements. I can’t speak to other countries, but for artists in the U.S., taxes can be extremely complex. If you’re awarded a stipend, grant, fellowship, or employed for gigs or one-time projects, you’ll likely be taxed as an independent contractor and have to deduct your own taxes. Through residencies and exhibitions, you may pull income in multiple states and countries, which can also affect taxation. If you’re an artist who doesn’t have access to resources about finance and taxation in your arts program or who doesn’t independently have expertise in those fields, I recommend finding ways to educate yourself early: online resources, low cost courses, or even just taking your financially-savvy friends out for a coffee!

ANYWAY SORRY FOR THE LONG POST I HOPE SOMETHING IN THIS DIATRIBE WAS HELPFUL I HOPE THERE WEREN’T TOO MANY TYPOS AND I hope you have the most wonderful, fulfilling arts career! <3

#resources #writing life #arts life #arts career #visual art #studio art program #mfa #bfa #arts education #i have no chill when you ask me questions like this #long post

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mon-dayragingslut4monstaxday6 · 4 years

Text

Reckless

Warning: pregnancy scare (but not what you think).

A/N: I had this in my docs for so long, but I always felt like I didn’t do enough for him. I will probably rewrite this for myself, but I’m happy I get to share this at all. Yes, the girl is named after me, sorry?

2.7k. First person (sorry not sorry)

How could I be so reckless? I always come prepared. How did I let this slide? The thrill of being irresponsible for once maybe? Having unprotected sex is not unheard of, but I should’ve known better than doing that for a one night stand. Couldn’t rest easy with the thought of really fucking up. I need to get supplies. The morning after pill will do the trick. Fuck, but I’m in Korea, for a small vacation, and I don’t know the language well enough to go to the pharmacy.

I get a buzz on my phone.

Wonnie: There’s a new movie on Netflix that I think we should watch, come over tonight!

A sigh of relief escapes my throat. Hyungwon, my sweetheart friend I made a year ago from a previous trip. We’re close, completely platonic, and would trust each other with anything. He’s asked me about girls before and I’ve asked him about boys. This is different. I would be asking him to help translate at the pharmacy so I could get the morning after pill. Actually, this shouldn’t be a big deal, I’m making this far more dramatic than it should be. Breath.

Me: I’m coming over, but I need a favor before we watch the movie.

Wonnie: What’s the favor?

Me: Wait till I get there, I don’t want to explain over the phone.

Wonnie: Oh?

My heart is skipping beats reading these texts. Thankfully my hotel isn’t far from his dorm. I walk to his dorm, overthinking this situation. Damn, what if it’s too late? Don’t be a dumb bitch, that’s not how pregnancy works. The morning after pill is good for within seventy-two hours of unprotected sex, plus, I’m on birth control, but you never know, nothing is guaranteed. I can’t have a baby right now, I want a house first, I want to progress in my career! Never noticed how fast I was walking till I came across the dorms in record time. Must be on edge. It’s just a favor of translation, that’s all. It’s going to be ok. He loves me, platonically, and won’t judge me.

I politely knock on the door, for once, unlike my usual unannounced entry. My nails dig through the skin of my palm, leaving crescent marks, damn near bleeding. Hyungwon answers the door, expressing eagerness to see me again, even though he saw me just yesterday. He gives me a hug and I never wanted a hug more. My vision goes blurry. No, don’t cry, not in front of him. I avoid eye contact with him when he lets me go. He’s so tall, it’s not that hard to hide my face.

“Sarah?”, Hyungwon tilts his head to look for my eyes. I damp my eyes with my knuckles, alarming him. He steps out of the dorm entrance and takes me further into the hallway.

“What’s wrong?”, whispering, changing his tune to something I’m not familiar with. My throat feels like it’s engulfed with cement. Both of his hands cup my cheeks and lift my face to meet his eyes.

“Talk to me”, he stoically demands.

“Hyungwon, I fucked up”, I mumble. His alertness turned to worry.

“Did someone hurt you?”, he sharply inhales.

“No, no. I just need your help at a pharmacy”, I whimper, defending the stranger I slept with. He didn’t hurt me or anything, we were just irresponsible.

“A pharmacy?”, he blurts out, spooking me.

“I just need something over the counter and I need your help translating”, I beat around the bush.

“What do you need?”, Hyungwon confidently exclaims.

“The morning after pill”, I shrug. I shouldn’t be ashamed of it. It happens.

“Let me get my shoes”, he nods. He opens the door, grabs his shoes and wallet and steps back out.

“Thank you”, I timidly thank him.

“You don’t have to thank me, Sarah, I’m happy you trust me”, he smiles while he slips on his sneakers. I wrap my arms around his waist, squeezing as tight as my gratitude. He rests his chin on my head, rubbing my back to soothe.

“Thank you for trusting me”, he whispers. I thought I felt a kiss on my head, but I could be mistaken. He escorts me to a pharmacy, thankfully there is one at the corner.

“Is this your first time taking the morning after pill?”, he breaks the silence before we head inside.

“Yes, but a friend at home has taken it before”, I giggle to hide my nerves.

“It’s ok to be nervous, Sarah”, he pulls me aside.

“I’ll be ok”, I assure him. Without any question, he nods and takes me to the pharmacist counter. The pharmacist, who is a woman thank goodness, converse with Hyungwon for a minute in Korean. There’s a second where the pharmacist asks a question and he raises his hand, limiting eye contact.

“Have you had unprotected sex in the past seventy-two hours?”, Hyungwon translates a question for me. I nod.

“Are you on birth control or on other forms of contraception?”, he continues. I nod.

“Do you know that this isn’t a form of birth control?”, he adds to the list of questions. Once again, I nod. The pharmacist scans and bags the little box. I pull out my wallet from my purse, but Hyungwon pulls out his wallet first, beating me from paying.

“Hyungwon”, I nudge his arm.

“I said it was with me, so I claim responsibility”, he chuckles. That son of a bitch lied to a complete stranger for my sake. The pharmacist gives Hyungwon the instructions for the pill and wishes us a good day. We leave the pharmacy, relieved on how smooth that went. I turn to the direction of his dorm, but he takes me on another course.

“Just take it with water I assume?”, I wonder, attempting to grab the bag from him.

“Yes”, he notices and extends his arm for me not to reach. He always teases me on my height, comparing me to miniature objects or foods.We often refer to each other as string bean and the pea.

“You didn’t have to claim responsibility for this”, I pout.

“I know I didn’t”, he smirks.

“So, if this doesn’t work, you will still take responsibility?”, I joke.

“I will”, he blatantly admits.

“Hyungwon”, I gasp.

“You’re my friend, but I would take care of you. You know my brothers love you and would be happy for you to stay”, he continues. I nearly choke on my spit. Did I hear him correctly?

“First, you claim responsibility for my hypothetical child, then you say you would take care of me, and now you’re saying you want me to stay?”, I damn near hyperventilate. He abruptly stops.

“You said it yourself, it’s hypothetical. Wouldn’t you want to stay?”, he turns timid.

“Stay in Korea with you and the boys?”, I am touched by the consideration.

“Stay with me”, he struggles to speak. Hearing those three words from him makes me disassociate from the world around me. I hear nothing, I can see nothing, but his worrisome face, waiting for me to reply.

“I’m thinking about it”, I confess. Would I be willing to give up my life in the states to go here? How would I even know if I could live here? I’d need to learn more Korean, find a job, everything else I need to get done before I could even consider it. Dammit, but just hearing him say “stay with me” could be a factor of me saying fuck it.

The smile on his face happens to be one of the most beautiful sights I’ve seen lately. It’s comfort some, sweet, and contagious.

“I’m getting you a treat”, he puts his arm around me. He swiftly takes me to a convenient store and buys me a coke and instant ramen. We cook the ramen at the store and take a seat at a nearby bench. He pulls out the little box and reads the back.

“Do you really think you could be pregnant?”, he wonders.

“I’ve been on birth control since high school, but you never know”, I sigh.

“Who was the guy?”, Hyungwon goes back to being timid.

“Just a one night stand, he’s not important”, I assure him.

“It wasn’t that good, huh?”, he teases. I burst out laughing. I love this part of our friendship, we can say shit like this to each other.

“Without giving any details, yes, it wasn’t the best”, I bashfully eat my ramen.

“That’s a shame”, he nudges my arm.

“Oh, bite me, it was just an experience, it wasn’t like I’m marrying the guy”, I scoff.

“You deserve better sex than that”, he shamelessly sips his soda.

“Damn right I do. If I do end up being pregnant, I’d hate to live with the memory of how it happened”, I roll my eyes. Hyungwon stares intensely at the box, obviously thinking about something.

“What’s on your mind?”, I tap on his ramen bowl to get his attention.

“Remembering how precious you were when your nephew was born”, he sighs. Really? That was months ago and I only remember sending him a couple of photos of me holding him.

“How was I precious?”, I wonder skeptically.

“The look you had holding him. Your sister sent me a video of you rocking him when he was still in the hospital, but she told me not to tell you”, he confesses.

“Oh no, don’t tell me I look good holding a baby, I already heard the speech from my dad”, I groan.

“You just looked really happy”, he explains before opening the box. He punches out the little pill with his thumb and places it in my hand.

“I need some growing up to do before I have any babies”, I confess.

“What do you mean?”, he finishes up his ramen.

“Not only do I need to have a good living situation, but I should also have financial stability and health stability before I should ever consider having a baby”, I explain.

“My offer still stands. I could take care of you, even without a baby”, he progressively gets more confident. The addition to his offer, “even without a baby”, makes me want to curl in a ball. This boy deserves a queen who will treasure him as much as I do, but how could that girl be me?

“And I appreciate that, Hyungwon, but you need to realize I don’t necessarily need to be taken care of”, I avoid eye contact. I’ve never been the damsel and I’d be damned if I start being one.

“But you’ll have the option”, he shrugs. I take the pill and swallow it with a sip of my coke.

“Why would you want to take care of me anyways?”, I slowly finish my ramen.

“Because you deserve a break. You work your ass off for everything you do and it’s exhausting you”, he rubs his hands together.

“That’s why I’m on vacation”, I shrug.

“Just to go back to work at a place that doesn’t appreciate what you bring to them. I know you, you won’t stop them from mistreating you”, he continues.

“You want me to stay so I won’t have to stress about work”, I realize.

“You won’t have to worry about the asshole”, he mentions. He’s referring to my bully of a co worker who is taking advantage of our boss’s willingness to help.

“I told you I didn’t want to talk about them while I’m on vacation”, I mumble.

“That’s my point. You have to wait till you’re on vacation in order to destress. That place is killing you”, he groans.

“I’ll think about it, Hyungwon”, I inhale.

“I will. I’ll think about staying”, I admit.

“Don’t do it for me. Do it for yourself”, he advises. He grabs my hand, interlocking our fingers. Why do I love how this feels? This friendship is platonic, I just admire how comfortable I am with this physical contact. We sit there for a minute, looking at our hands. Noticing how small my hands are compared to his.

“Let’s go watch that movie”, I break the comfortable silence.

We go throw out our trash and head back to the dorms. The boys welcome me with hugs. Getting to see these faces everyday doesn’t sound half bad. Seeing how happy they are to see me is making me overwhelmed. Should I stay and leave my troubles in the states? Would it be wrong of me to consider it? The boys started to notice my anxious behavior and got frantic on asking me questions. “Are you ok?”, “do you need some water”, “you can talk to us”, etcetera. The more questions I got, the more choked up I am. I want to tell them I’m ok, but I’m not. Hyungwon takes me to his room. He wraps a fuzzy blanket around me and embraces me like the little burrito that I am.

“I’ll get you some water. If you want to shower, you know where my clothes are”, he whispers before leaving the room. He knows me well enough to know that my routine of feeling better after something shitty happens is taking a shower. Maybe a shower is what I need.

So, I go to the bathroom outside of his bedroom and hop in the shower. A shower is definitely what I need. Our conversation of him taking care of me revolves in my brain like a broken record enough for me to finally cry. I didn’t want to look weak, I didn’t want to look needy. I’m not to him. He sees me as a woman who has had enough. He listened to me bitch and groan about my life in the states, long enough for him to want to change it. Fuck, it’s like he proposed to me, he just wants me to stay in Korea. I sit in the shower, letting the hot water sprinkle on me while I map out my thoughts.

I’ll be able to see him more than once a year. Hell, I’ll be able to see all of the good and the bad of him first hand, instead of over the phone. I’m getting all flustered just thinking about it. I’ll be there to comfort them during their tough nights at work. Yes, living with seven men doesn’t seem optimal for an individual woman’s sanity, but it won’t be far different than my living situation from college. Am I going to do this? Sleep on it tonight and see.

Out of the shower, I wrap myself in the towel and slip on one of his t-shirts. Thank goodness I’m tiny, his shirt is almost like a dress to me. I take a whiff of the collar. Fresh, clean cotton.

Hm, I wonder where he went? We were supposed to watch a movie. I check my phone, nothing. I plop on his bed and wrap myself in the fuzzy blanket. I think I gifted him this last Christmas.

Needless to say, I soon pass out.

The dream I have is unbelievable! Starting off with nothing out of the usual, Hyungwon and I lay next to each other on his bed, whatever. He scoots down to rest his head on my boobs, something he has never done. I knew it was a dream when he started kissing my chest. Felt so real, I wouldn’t be surprised if I squirmed in real life. I didn’t fight it. I was putty in this dream. He moved up to kiss my lips and I knew I was in danger. He hovers above me, but leaves too much space between. I wrap my legs around his hips and pull him straight down. His hands grip the crook of my knees to keep my legs up while he rolls his hips against me, still fully clothed. One moan from my mouth and I woke up.

I realize what happened and I scream in the pillow I was sleeping on. I just had a naughty dream of my friend! I want to hide, I want to vomit, I want to scream. I never saw him like that before, so why now! Never have we exchanged any interest in that!

There’s a knock on the door and I nearly fall off the bed. Hyungwon peaks his head in.

“Sarah?”, he wonders.

“Hyungwon!”, I cheerfully welcome, hiding my internal panic. He smiles at my adjusted mood.

“Feeling any better?”, he sweetly asks before handing me a glass of water.

“A lot better”, I pant before gulping the water, avoiding eye contact.

#monsta x #monsta x smut #monsta x fluff #monsta x scenarios #monsta x imagines #monsta x hyungwon

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