#(doubt she even works still but I’ll keep her anyways) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

10byten · 2 months ago

Text

Meeting Jaehyun’s friend

So here's part 2 of this publication ! The dinner with the rest of 127 and how you manage to charm them all over the course of one evening. I hope you’ll enjoy it. 💘

As soon as Jaehyun steps into the apartment, he’s hit by the most delicious smell teasing his senses. In the living room, a table filled with Italian dishes catches his eye. You’re standing in the kitchen, carefully spreading lemon glaze over a cake. He can’t resist. He slips an arm around your waist and pulls you close, hugging you from behind. You tilt your head slightly, giving him access to your neck, and he starts placing soft kisses along your skin.

“You’re incredible. What is all this?” “I wanted to do something nice for you… and make sure your friends eat well tonight.” He chuckles, looking at the food. “I’m worried they’ll start coming over too often after this.” You laugh, “Would that be such a bad thing?” In one swift move, he spins you around to face him, a playful glint in his eye. “Hmm, yeah, actually. That would be a problem. I wouldn’t get enough alone time with you.” He leans in, kissing you deeply, savoring your lips as if it’s been years instead of just a day apart. His hands wander lower.

“Mm-mm,” you murmur against his lips, breaking the moment, “your friends are literally going to be here in one minute.” “I’m starting to regret inviting them. Who even needs friends, anyway?” “That’s a great question. We could just pretend no one’s home. Let them get bored of ringing the bell.” Jaehyun groans dramatically, pressing his forehead against yours. “This is exactly why you’re dangerous. You’re always so perfect.”

Before he can pull you in for another kiss, the doorbell rings. You laugh softly, escaping his arms, leaving him pouting like a kid. He trails behind you as you open the door, his gaze still glued to you, stars in his eyes.

The night kicks off better than anyone could’ve imagined.

The boys are all immediately charmed. They compliment your cooking nonstop, their plates barely staying full for longer than a minute.

“I have to admit, I had my doubts when we got to the door earlier,” Haechan jokes. “For a second, I thought we’d open it to find Jaehyun standing there alone, and it’d finally be time to stage an intervention.” You raise an eyebrow, amused. “An intervention? For what?” “Well, we’ve heard a lot about you… like, a lot, and Jaehyun was so secretive about everything, we kinda started wondering if you were even real.”

“Oh, I see,” you tease. “Or maybe you’re all just crazy and have been talking to an empty chair this whole time.” The room erupts into laughter. Johnny raises his glass. “Damn, dude. Now I get it. She’s a keeper.”

Jaehyun grins, looking completely smitten. “You can bet I’m not letting her go.”

Yuta’s eyes light up when he realizes you know a bit of Japanese. You both slip into a quick conversation, leaving the rest of the group completely mesmerized.

“Uh, are we allowed to know what you two are saying?” Mark finally asks, looking between you and Yuta like he’s missing out on the most exclusive secret.

“Nothing all that exciting,” Taeyong replies for you, his tone a mix of intimidation and admiration as he glances at Jaehyun. “But, honestly? It’s impressive. Respect.”

Johnny leans back with a smirk, looking directly at you. “So let me get this straight—you cook, you’re funny, interesting, multilingual, and, no offense Jaehyun, you’re absolutely stunning. Are we sure he’s the one? I mean, if you ever start doubting or if things don’t work out, call me, yeah?”

You laugh, playing along. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the offer.”

Jaehyun shakes his head with a small laugh, his eyes softening as he leans down to press a kiss to your shoulder. “Not even a chance I’d let that happen,” he murmurs, his voice firm but full of affection.

When you stand to grab dessert, the guys erupt into dramatic gestures of approval toward Jaehyun—thumbs up, silent cheers, all of it. You giggle, shaking your head as Taeyong gets up to help you clear the plates, following you to the kitchen.

“That’s really sweet, but you didn’t have to,” you say as he starts collecting dishes. “It’s the least I can do. I know what it’s like handling a big table like that.”

You laugh, teasing him. “Yeah, I guess you’re kind of the dad of a huge family.” He nods, chuckling. “But I can’t cook half as well as you. Honestly, I think you’ve stolen everyone’s hearts—and their stomachs—tonight.”

“Hmm, not sure I’ve won Jungwoo over yet, though.” Taeyong laughs softly. “Well, before you, it was him sharing a room with Jaehyun. Just a little case of jealousy—it’ll pass, don’t worry.”

In the living room, the guys can’t stop talking about you.“Where’d you even find her?” Mark asks, clearly amazed. “And do they have more in stock?” Johnny leans back, grinning. “Honestly, I get why you hid her from us for so long. If it were me, I’d move her to some remote cabin in the woods and never let anyone else see her.” Doyoung, never missing an opportunity to tease, smirks. “Dude, I hope you know she’s way too good for you.” Jaehyun just rolls his eyes, grinning smugly. “I knew she’d blow you guys away.”

Haechan squints dramatically. “Unless she’s secretly, like, an assassin or something. You know, using you as a cover story.” Jaehyun smirks. “She can use me for whatever she wants.” “Yup, there it is. You’re done for. Completely whipped and hopelessly in love,” Yuta laughs, shaking his head.

Jaehyun blushes slightly, his confidence slipping for just a moment. It’s obvious to everyone in the room just how head over heels he is for you.

You and Taeyong return to the table, carrying the cake and a stack of plates. The moment Jungwoo takes his first bite, his eyes widen, and he practically lights up.

“This is amazing! You have to tell me the recipe,” he gushes, showering you with compliments.

You smile, feeling a wave of pride. “I’d be happy to make another one just for you, Jungwoo.”

And with that, you’ve officially won over the last holdout at the table. Taeyong gives you a knowing wink, as if to say, Told you so. You grin back, proud of yourself.

Jaehyun, watching the whole thing, can’t help but marvel at you. Seeing you charm his friends so effortlessly makes his heart swell. Somehow, he feels like he’s falling even deeper in love with you—if that’s even possible.

As everyone moves to the living room to settle down with some tea, Jaehyun puts on a vinyl, letting soft music fill the air while the conversation flows. The guys start shuffling around, competing to make space for you to sit next to them, but Jaehyun steps in, cutting through their suggestions.

“You’ll be just fine right here.” His tone leaves no room for debate as he grabs your hand, guiding you gently. His other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you onto his lap.

You settle in willingly, your arms sliding around his shoulders as his arm tightens protectively around your waist. His hand rests firmly on your hip, just above your thighs, his touch possessive but comforting.

You’re too wrapped up in the conversation with the guys to notice, but Jaehyun doesn’t take his eyes off you for a second. Watching you laugh, hearing your voice, and feeling you this close—it’s driving him crazy.

The self-control he’s been clinging to all night in front of his friends is wearing thin. His thoughts drift to everything he’s been wanting to do since he got home. He leans into your neck, burying his face in your hair as he breathes in your familiar scent, the one that he’s absolutely addicted to. A wave of desire hits him, and you feel his hand tighten on your hip as the muscles in his thighs tense beneath you.

You know what that means—your man wants you, and he’s done hiding it.

Yuta, who knows Jaehyun better than anyone, doesn’t miss a thing. He notices the shift in Jaehyun’s mood, how his mind has clearly left the room and wandered to other plans for the evening. With a knowing smirk, Yuta takes charge.

“I think it’s time we head out,” he says, signaling the end of the night.

Johnny takes your hand and kisses it lightly. “Dear Y/n, I speak for all of us when I say—please, don’t break our Jae. We’ve never seen him like this with anyone.”

You smile at the heartfelt declaration, warmth spreading through you. Looking over at your boyfriend, you catch him walking toward you with that familiar look in his eyes. He wraps his arms around you from behind, pressing against you like a puppy craving attention.

All he’s waiting for is for the door to close so he can sweep you off to his room and make sure every bit of your focus is on him—and him only.

“I promise, I’ll do my best,” you tease, giving him a playful smile.

The guys thank you once more before heading out, leaving the two of you alone.

On the way back, the guys chat excitedly about you, sharing their individual impressions. They all gush about what they loved—how effortlessly you fit in with Jaehyun and how glad they feel that their friend found someone like you. There’s one, however, who stays quiet.

“Taeyong, what did you think of her?” Yuta asks, a playful curiosity in his voice.

“I agree with you guys,” Taeyong replies, his tone soft. “She’s... unique.” Guys keep talking on.

But Doyoung, ever observant, notices Taeyong’s distant expression—his eyes unfocused, as though lost in thought. He starts to wonder if maybe one of them has been a little more taken by you than the others.

For the rest of the night, and even the days that follow, Taeyong can’t get you out of his mind. He finds himself replaying your interactions. And in his head, the same words keep echoing: It’s just a crush. It’ll pass…

As soon as the door shuts, Jaehyun’s lips are on yours like he’s been starving for days. Between each kiss, he whispers, “Thank you, my love, for tonight.” When his lips trail down to your neck, you take the chance to reply.

“It was my pleasure. I really loved meeting the guys. I’m so happy you introduced me to them.” “Hmm, yeah, but now I’m worried they’ll want to see you way too often.” You laugh softly. “What, afraid you’ll have to share?”

That’s when he pulls back slightly, just enough to look you in the eye, his expression darkening in the most delicious way. He presses you gently against the wall, his voice dropping. “I don’t share. Not when it comes to you. You’re mine. Completely.”

Your knees practically give out at the serious tone in his voice. Everything about him in this moment—his gaze, his touch, his entire presence—screams love and desire.

“I’m afraid you’ve made me selfish,” he murmurs, brushing his lips along your jawline. “And maybe a little too possessive.” You shiver at his words, at the heat they stir in you. “I’m sorry for that.” “Don’t be.” His voice is low and rough now. “But you’re gonna have to deal with it.”

“I think I can manage,” you whisper back, breathless. “Good,” he growls softly, lifting you effortlessly into his arms.

In no time, he’s carrying you to the bedroom, intent on showing you exactly how grateful he is for tonight—and how much he adores every little thing about you.

221 notes · View notes

nicka-nell · 6 months ago

Note

wow ok read the recent request and I gotta say that was pretty heavy. Can we have a similar request but with a light angst with the remaining characters ??? I like the previous request

Hi, of course! :)) I've had really little time lately but I hope you like it anyway. I would say that all three contain rather mild angst compared to the previous ones. So I hope you enjoy it more. 💚

Regretting their actions

Pairing: Kuroo x, Ushijima x, Sakusa x reader

Warning: angst to fluff

Part 1 | Part 2 (End)

Kuroo finally made it. He has a job he enjoys. A job that also pays well financially and provides stability.

However, this job also involves some overtime and company trips.

In the beginning, he tried to keep to the working hours as much as possible. After all, he didn’t want to neglect you. However, the overtime increased year by year.

You often tried to gently point out to him that he shouldn’t overwork himself, but most of the time, your remarks were met with anger and ended in an argument.

At some point, you stopped and tried to suppress his increasingly frequent absences. Even if it hurt you.

Sometimes you lie in bed, looking at the empty space next to you, before the screen of your phone lights up and the usual message from Kuroo appears. “Sorry, kitten, but I can’t make it home today. But I’ll be there tomorrow at the end of the day.”

A message that raises so many doubts in you. What if he’s not at work at all and is seeing another woman? You’ve hardly had any time together in the last few months. Just a good morning kiss before work... that was all.

Does he no longer loves you? Does he possibly have a girlfriend and is leading a double life? No, Kuroo wouldn’t do that.

You’ve already reminded Kuroo three times this week that it’s your niece’s birthday today and that she’s looking forward to finally seeing him again. Because your niece loves Kuroo. Your boyfriend kept telling you before work that he had the date in his calendar and that he would definitely be home in time for the two of you to go to your niece’s together. You believed him. After all, the date was important to you. But you soon realize that this was just another lie. An empty promise.

Because when you look at your watch, it’s ten minutes before departure... and Kuroo still hasn’t arrived. He didn’t even reply to your “I’m looking forward to this afternoon.” You wait another four minutes, but nothing happens. In the end, you take the train to your niece’s house. Alone, without Kuroo. Because he doesn’t answer your messages or your calls.

Your little niece is so sad when she opens the door and looks up at you, realizing that you have come alone. It’s not that she doesn’t like you, but her dear uncle Kuroo always does so much nonsense with her. What did she once said? The aunts and grannies are there to go shopping and with the uncles and grandpas you have fun. Not exactly nice, but whatever.

She looks at you with sad eyes. “Isn’t uncle Kuroo coming? Doesn’t uncle Kuroo like me anymore?” she asks tearfully as you try to calm her down somehow. It takes a long time for her to stop crying, and that on her birthday. And as if that wasn’t enough, you also get asked by your brother and your parents if everything is all right with you and your boyfriend. Whether you are still together at all. Because even at the last events, you were always there alone. When they passed by your home, only you were ever present.

“No, no, everything’s fine. Tetsu’s just really busy today,” you reply with a forced smile, even though you don’t know where you stand as a couple right now. Can you even call what the two of you have a relationship?

As you head home in the evening, the apartment is still empty, just as expected. You sigh as you put your bag down and go into the bathroom to get ready for bed. The apartment seems so bitter as you lie down under the cold sheets, but you don’t care. You don’t even look at your phone anymore, because you know that Kuroo hasn’t texted you anyway. Nor do you mind that the bed is empty. Because that has also become a habit by now. Just then, you realize that tears are suddenly running down your cheeks. Yet you don’t even bother to wipe them away because no one will see them anyway.

Kuroo curses as he looks at his watch. His day had been stressful. So stressful that he didn’t even have time to look at his phone or check the time. Only when it got darker outside did he realize that he had once again worked too long.

“Shit,” he curses again as he stands in front of the entrance door. Should he go back to get flowers for you? After all, he promised you he wouldn’t work so late. No, never mind. Staying away any longer will only upset you more.

“Hey kitten, I’m sorry I was gone so long again. I know I said that-” but when Kuroo enters the living room, the light is off. You’re not in the kitchen either. Have you gone to bed already? He walks quietly towards the bedroom, but his hand stops on the door handle when he hears you sniffle.

“Hey, baby, what’s wrong?” he asks, immediately moving past the bed to your side to kneel in front of it. Only now do you realize that Kuroo has returned home. You look at him almost empty-eyed. “Nothing...” you reply and want to turn away from him, but his hand holds onto your shoulder.

“Don’t say nothing when you’re obviously crying. Is it because I’m here so late again? I’m really sorry... I’ve completely lost track of time. I’m trying-”

“I suppose you’ve forgotten my niece’s birthday? She cried bitterly today... and not only that. I was asked today if we’re still together because you’ve never been to celebrations lately. And honestly? I don’t even know myself...” You say in frustration and watch Kuroo’s eyes suddenly widen.

Today was your niece’s birthday... You had told him several times during the week and yet he had forgotten. Kuroo doesn’t even know how to answer you. There is no answer that can please you. Because Kuroo has completely fucked up. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again.

“Maybe we should really break-”

“No, no don’t say that. I know I fucked up. I know I promised you I’d work less overtime and be there for you more often. I know I didn’t stick to any of that. But please. I can change.” His answer interrupts yours, his voice soft and yet so panicked as he looks at you pleadingly. But you can’t help but laugh in frustration. “I’ve already asked my brother... I can stay with him for a while.”

You see the fear in his face as he tries to struggle for words. His shoulders begin to shake before he opens his mouth. Kuroo has no arguments to defend himself. In the end, he just failed. Made you sad. Neglected you. It had to get that far before he finally understood that. But when he looks at your sad face, he knows that he has no right to stop you.

“Yeah... if that’s what you want... I don’t want to stop you... make you any more miserable.” He replies dejectedly before squeezing your shoulder a little tighter to stand up to leave you alone in the bedroom. To give you the tranquility that you would prefer over his presence. But his legs won’t let him go any further as he stops in front of the door, just a step away from the hallway.

Instead of leaving the room, he turns in your direction, switches on the big light and goes back to your bedside. “No, I can’t do that. I know I don’t have the right, but I just can’t let you go. I have neglected you. I have neglected us. And although you reminded me several times, I forgot your niece’s birthday. I don’t even want to imagine how sad she was that I wasn’t there, or how sad you must have been that I couldn’t keep my promise again. I am sorry that I have once again failed as a boyfriend. I know I probably look like the biggest asshole and my words sound like lies to you. But please... I love you and I mean it when I say I’m sorry. I enjoy my job, even if it is stressful. But I’ve probably lost sight of the most important thing, and that’s you. Please... please, if there’s still a little bit of hope, tell me how to make it right.” Kuroo says, looking you in the eye with determination, even though he is struggling to keep his composure.

You sit up in bed and look down at him, still kneeling in front of you. You love him, but what’s the point if he can’t keep his promises anyway? Still, when he looks at you like that… with these sad eyes… as if he’s about to break apart… “I’m staying with my brother for a week from tomorrow... I need a clear head. So use this week to think about how you can set things right. And maybe... maybe there will still be a future for us.” You answer him more coldly than you actually wanted to and look over at the empty side of the bed. “And now go to bed... there’s no point sleeping on the sofa in the living room. It’ll only make your back ache.” you add, before crawling back under the covers and closing your eyes. Not waiting to see if Kuroo actually lies down next to you or not.

The week you spend with your brother is like a wake-up call for Kuroo. A reminder that he needs to change something.

He writes to you every day before he leaves for work. A simple “Good morning, I hope you have a good start to the day” and in the evening he always writes to you when he’s on his way home.

Nevertheless, overall he leaves you in peace. Just like you wanted.

After the week you spent with your brother, you now stand in front of the entrance to your own home and take a deep breath. Wondering if Kuroo is home yet.

He should actually be at home. After all, his working hours are over. Did he keep his promise? You open the door and step inside. The apartment looks exactly the same as it did when you left it a week ago. Tidy, clean. Almost as if no one lived here. And as you might expect, Kuroo’s shoes are also missing. So nothing has changed after all. Standing in the hallway, you laugh in frustration and shake your head as you suddenly hear a key in the door lock and Kuroo enters.

A little surprised to see you, his eyes widen. “H-Hey...” he says almost shyly as he stands in front of you. Kuroo has a bouquet of flowers in his hand and a bag of groceries in the other. “I thought... maybe we could cook together and then... talk afterwards. That’s why I went grocery shopping after work, but I guess most people do it after work. It was really crowded...” he clicks his tongue and tilts his head to the side with a somewhat strained smile.

So he did finish work on time? “And the flowers? Are they there for cooking too?” you ask, unconsciously breaking the tense atmosphere between you. Kuroo just rolls his eyes and you see the tips of his ears turn red as he hands you the bouquet. “Of course not. They’re for you... for the best woman in the world.” His last words are quiet, but you hear them well.

Kuroo and you cook together, even if it’s a bit strange at first.

You both don’t quite know what to say or how to behave.

But while you wait for your food to be ready, Kuroo speaks up, pushes a chair back and asks you to take a seat at the dining table before sitting opposite you and taking your hands in his.

He tells you that he has only worked one hour of overtime this week. That he has applied for an assistant so that he can hand over some of his work and therefore work less overtime.

He tells you about all this in such an excited tone, as if you’ve just had your first date and he’s asking you out. Kuroo seems to be making a real effort...

“You know, there are even therapists who deal with people who work too much and-” says Kuroo, but you interrupt him directly. “Tetsurou... I’m not asking you to go to a therapist. If what you’ve said is true, then... that’s a good start.” His posture relaxes abruptly at your statement before he grips your hands tighter again and rests his head on them, sighing with relief. He had fully expected you to draw a line today after all the lonely nights he had given you. After all the empty promises. And here you both are, sitting together, and he can’t believe how good-natured you are. “That means... you’ll give me another chance?” he asks, but doesn’t lift his head from your hands.

“One last one... so don’t mess it up Tetsurou.” you reply much more gently this time.

You’ve been together with Ushijima for a long time. You know his personality, that he tends to be quiet, sometimes blunt, and doesn’t talk much. Nevertheless, his lack of words sometimes makes you uneasy.

Something that Ushijima often can’t understand, because after all, that’s how you met. It usually ends with you just nodding off at some point and saying that you must have been imagining things and you just pretend that nothing happened.

But lately he’s been so quiet again. Even more distant than before.

Whenever he comes home from training, he goes straight to the kitchen to make himself a protein shake. Then straight to the bathroom to put his sports clothes in the washing machine and then gets ready for bed. Somewhere in between, he greets you with an almost indifferent “hello”.

You know that Ushijima is a little different, that his communication sometimes falls short. But his current behavior is unsettling even for you.

Has he perhaps met someone new? Does he no longer love you?

No... you don’t want to have thoughts like that. And yet you have them, and yet they don’t stop you from asking Ushijima this one question when he’s about to go to bed.

“Be honest Toshi... do you have another person you see next to me? Well... I don’t mean friends, but... a potential love interest?” The question slips out a little more reproachfully than you would have liked.

Ushijima looks at you with wide eyes as he puts on a T-shirt to go to bed. He can’t believe you actually asked him that. He has enough stress at the moment with the upcoming championship games. Now you’re just throwing in your insecurity. He doesn’t need that right now. “Do you really think I have the time or energy to deal with another relationship? This one is stressful enough at times,” he says almost coldly.

Wow... you think. It feels like he’s hitting a volleyball right against your chest. It hurts. “So you see me as a burden?” you try to say in a calm voice, but it’s already shaking. Ushijima just shakes his head in annoyance before climbing into bed next to you.

“When you ask questions like that, yes. Where do you come up with such nonsense? Do you have so little self-esteem?” says Ushijima before switching off the light on the bedside cabinet and turning towards you. “Let’s go to sleep now. I have to get up in the morning. And stop thinking such nonsense.” He says, as if he hadn’t hurt your feelings with his words earlier, before leaning in to kiss you goodnight, but you just turn around and avoid him. “Good night...” you mumble coolly, but Ushijima doesn’t think much of it.

Only after several days does he realize that something is different. You hardly talk to him, not at all, in fact. You no longer cook for him either. Maybe not in general? You’re often out until late in the evening and only come to bed when Ushijima is already asleep. But when he asks you what’s wrong, you just answer with a strange smile and say “nothing”. Ushijima doesn’t understand a thing.

It’s only when he’s on the phone with Tendou and the two of them are talking about all sorts of things, about how Ushijima is very stressed right now from training and the upcoming championships, that he mentions in passing that you’re behaving strangely. Tendou has known Ushijima for a long time. So he can guess that Ushijima has once again misunderstood something or said things that came across wrongly. When Ushijima tells him about the conversation with you a few days ago, Tendou sighs loudly into the phone. “Wakatoshi, that’s the stupidest thing you could have said to her. Does your better half know that you’re under a lot of stress at the moment?”

“Of course not. After all, it’s not something she can change. So she doesn’t have to worry about it.” As soon as Ushijima has spoken his sentence, he hears the sigh on the other side of the line again. “Wakatoshi, that’s not how a relationship works. How long have you been together now? Almost six years... She’s just worried about you. And if she then asks you whether there might be another woman in your life, ‘Don’t ask such stupid questions, why do you have so little self-esteem’ is not exactly the best answer.” Tendou imitates Ushijima.

He is surprised that he still has a girlfriend at all with this manner. Maybe he needs to fly to Japan more often after all… To give Ushijima a good slap on the back of the blunt man’s head.

“I just wanted to tell her that she’s a great woman and I can’t understand how she can have such thoughts when she’s perfect,” Ushijima replies as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Yet Tendou has to spend half an hour talking to Ushijima about how wrong his behavior was before he finally realizes it himself. So he decides to go home after training and wait for you, no matter how long it takes.

Sighing, you stand in front of the front door. On the one hand, you hope that Ushijima is already asleep, but on the other, you don’t want to continue with the silent treatment. You shake your head and open the door, only to see Ushijima sitting in the living room, his hands clasped together as he rests his arms on his thighs.

“Wakatoshi?” You ask, a little irritated, as you notice him staring into space. You can’t interpret his gaze. “Can you please sit down? We need to talk.” He says in a firm voice that makes your heart beat uncomfortably faster. You know you haven’t done anything wrong, and yet it feels like you have. Nevertheless, you nod, sit down next to him and look in his direction. He mirrors your movement. Only he doesn’t look at you with concern, but neutrally as always.

“I...” he begins, but then his voice drops. He doesn’t quite know how to start. After all, that’s never been his strength. “What is it, Wakatoshi?” you ask almost impatiently. After all, if he wants to end the relationship, he should keep it short. That will hurt, but maybe it’s better that way.

“I have hurt you. Seemingly very deeply. I’m sorry about that. It’s not that I don’t love you. I do and I thought you knew that too. Maybe I didn’t express myself properly, no actually, I didn’t express myself properly. But I can’t understand why you think that I might have another woman for whom I have feelings. You are a wonderful woman. Strong, independent, intelligent and attractive. For me, you are just right the way you are. I wouldn’t want anyone else by my side. I thought you would see yourself the way I see you.” Ushijima looks deep into your eyes with every word, his complete focus on you, before glancing briefly to the side. As if he’s thinking about what else he wants to say. Then he turns back to you and puts his hand on your thigh.

“We’re really under a lot of stress at the moment with our training. But that’s not something I want to burden you with in any way. After all, there’s nothing you can do to change the situation. And you shouldn’t have to worry about your husband. So… If I hurt you with my words, I’m sorry.” His words are sincere and the uneasy feeling you felt in your chest is suddenly gone. You should have known that Ushijima doesn’t love another woman. After all, it’s Ushijima.

“Let’s go out for dinner together at the weekend. Just the two of us. Let’s talk, spend time together. There hasn’t been enough of that lately.” Ushijima says, turning you more towards him by your thigh before wrapping his hands around your waist and placing you on his lap with ease.

“Wakatoshi!” you shriek briefly. His head is on your shoulder, his breath warm on your skin. “I’m really sorry that my words hurt you,” he whispers softly, starting to rub your back with his thumb as he holds you close to his chest. You are no longer angry with him. Has been no longer. Actually, you are glad that he told you how he felt.

“Going out for dinner sounds good,” you say softly and put your arms around him. As you answer, you feel him squeeze you a little tighter. As if he wants to tell you how grateful he is that you show understanding for him.

Actually, everything is going well between you and Sakusa. You both harmonize well, have similar interests and friends. The only thing that is a little difficult is the fact that you have to keep your relationship a secret.

At least Sakusa wants to keep the relationship private because he doesn’t want paparazzi following you around or some crazy fans sending you threatening letters or maybe even hurting you.

Sakusa is very cautious when it comes to you.

So apart from your closest friends, your family and his agency, nobody knows about your relationship.

However, it is becoming more difficult from year to year. Because there are already pictures that have been made public. Pictures in which you are seen with Sakusa. Sitting together in a coffee shop or going for a walk in the park. You’ve even been photographed while buying groceries.

There are also more and more rumors about you. “Who is the unknown woman who is always in the front row at every game?”, ”Is this young lady the girlfriend of athlete Kiyoomi Sakusa?”

Today Sakusa forgot his sports shoes. Since you work in the same building as the agency that has him under contract, you decide to simply take the shoes with you. After all, Sakusa told you today that he has an appointment at his agency before he goes to training.

With a slight nod, you greet the security people at the entrance to the third floor where the agency for athletes is located. You’ve already been here a few times, so it’s easy for you to find the right way. You stop in front of Sakusa’s manager’s office. In front of the office, you see that the door is slightly open and that people are talking. Sakusa was one of them. You briefly consider knocking and going in, but when you hear the next words, you stand still, petrified.

“Sakusa-san, are you sure you want to bring your relationship with Ms. Abe into the public eye? Ms. Abe is a popular tennis player. It would draw a lot of attention to both of you,” says Sakusa’s manager. Soon after, the sound of a woman giggling rings out, followed immediately by Sakusa’s voice.

“That’s fine... I think it’s for the best. But before we go through with this -” you don’t hear the last words, because you’ve already set the bag with the shoes down outside the office and rushed back to your own workplace.

You can’t concentrate all day long. You keep thinking about that conversation you had heard earlier. About Sakusa... wanting to make a relationship public? Only now do you realize what that actually means. Does this mean that Sakusa has been cheating on you the whole time and you were nothing but a pleasant distraction for him?

Frustrated, you stomp home after work, thinking about all the things you want to say. Everything you want to throw at Sakusa. When you arrive home, the apartment is still empty. Nothing unusual, because Sakusa wanted to go to his training after the meeting. So he’ll probably be gone for several more hours. Or did he just use that as an excuse to meet up with his new girlfriend?

You laugh bitterly, rolling your eyes at the thought of Sakusa’s name appearing in the magazines next to the name of that tennis player .... “Ridiculous...” you snort, and walk into the living room, where, ironically, the picture of Sakusa and you immediately comes into view. A photo of the two of you on vacation. You were in Norway. A country where Sakusa isn’t really well known. That’s why you could enjoy your vacation without paparazzi. In the photo you are in a small restaurant, outside on the terrace, both smiling intimately into the camera. Was it all just an act?

Furious, you grab the photo and throw it on the floor. The glass breaks and all the shards lie on the ground. “Damn...” you curse, annoyed at yourself for your outburst as you kneel down to pick up the pieces. But a familiar voice makes you flinch.

“My love, is everything all right?” you hear Sakusa, who must have come home a few seconds ago, dropping his bag in the hallway and looking in your direction with wide eyes. He left training on time today because he thought it was strange that his sports bag was in front of his manager’s door, but you weren’t there.

But now the time has come. The pain in your chest suddenly gets impossible to bear, your mouth quivers and your eyes are all warm as big tears run down your cheeks. A sight that really knocks Sakusa off his feet. Immediately he rushes in your direction, kneels down next to you and takes your hands in his to see if you have cut yourself. But your body seems to be unharmed.

“W-what’s wrong?” he asks again, concerned, before you pull your hands out of his grip and stare at him angrily. “When... when were you going to tell me you had another girl? And what are you doing here anyway? Shouldn’t you be at training or with your new lover?” you say angrily, but don’t raise your voice.

Sakusa tries to follow your words, even if he can’t understand them at first. But then he realizes… The bag in the hallway, your tears... you must have heard part of the conversation he had this afternoon. But you probably haven’t heard everything. The man with the raven-black curls closes his eyes before taking a deep breath and looking at you again, trying to reach for your hands.

“You’ve completely misunderstood something-” he is about to start, but you interrupt him directly. “Don’t say ‘it’s not what it looks like’. You can spare that phrase, Kiyoomi!” you say a little louder now, but Sakusa doesn’t back down and continues to try to talk to you calmly.

“Please Y/n... I want you to listen to me for a minute... just a minute... After that you can still be mad at me. Is that possible?” Sakusa grabs your hands this time, pulls you up with him and leads you to the sofa. “Sit down, please.” You’re actually reluctant, but you’ve been together for so long now... you can give him that one minute, can’t you? You grudgingly sit down, but don’t look at him.

“Lately, paparazzi are getting bolder and bolder... even the other day there were some in the supermarket who wanted to take pictures of us... I’m just worried that your face will eventually be in all the newspapers and platforms and you’ll no longer be able to live your life carefree, but will always have these people at your back, following you,” says Sakusa somewhat awkwardly. Almost as if he himself is unsure whether what he wants to tell you is plausible for you. But before he can continue, you interrupt him directly and give him an angry look.

“Oh, and that’s why you thought you’d find a new girlfriend who’s already a celebrity and just date her? Then you can go out without hiding? Is that it?” you’re struggling to keep your voice under control. Sakusa’s eyes widen and he shrinks back for a moment, his hands almost in a protective position in front of his chest as he shakes his head.

“Wait, no, it’s not like that. I don’t have another relationship. Well, okay wait. I thought it might be good if I publicly revealed a fake relationship with another celebrity. Of course, it’s not real and we’re not really a couple. But I thought it would take the pressure off you and you could-”

You can’t believe what Sakusa is saying right now. Is he really serious? If it’s true, why is he talking to his manager first and not to you? Doesn’t he care about your feelings? “Do you actually... don’t think at all? How do you think I would feel when I read the messages and your name is everywhere with the name of your fake girlfriend? Have you ever thought about the fact that this is extremely hurtful to me? I would rather be seen in public with you than see you with someone else ‘for my supposed freedom and privacy’. How would you feel if I introduced another man to the whole world as my boyfriend just to ‘protect’ you?” The words you say so loudly hit Sakusa, and he gets quiet. He doesn’t even know what to say anymore. Your question slaps him hard. How would he feel… The thought of seeing you with another man makes him angry, sad... and somehow helpless?

“I...” Sakusa begins, but immediately doesn’t know how to continue. “I’m sorry, that was probably stupid of me.” He then says, tilting his head downwards. Sighing, you stand up and shake your head once more before walking past Sakusa.

“You know, you never asked me, but I wouldn’t mind if people knew my face. It’s more important to me to do things with you without having to hide. You’re always the one who overdramatizes and worries unnecessarily... Whatever… I’m going to bed now. Good night.” You no longer wait for his answer. Instead, you go straight to the bathroom and get ready for bed.

Sakusa remains seated in the living room. He knows exactly that it wouldn’t be right to talk to you now, that you want to be left alone. Especially since he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to tell you. He just knows that his action was really stupid.

Sakusa hadn’t signed a contract with the tennis player and the two agencies yet, because he wanted to talk to you about it first, but at the moment his own idea to protect your privacy disgusts him. He really should have talked to you first about how you feel, whether you want to be in the public eye, instead of drawing any conclusions. Sakusa sighs, leans back against the sofa and closes her eyes. “Idiot...” he whispers quietly.

Two days pass and you are still disappointed by Sakusa’s behavior. Even though he probably only meant well. You haven’t really spoken much either. Just the usual “Good morning, have a nice day at work...”, “How was your day?” and all that sort of things.

Still at work, you just can’t concentrate and start massaging your temples when suddenly one of your colleagues shrieks and starts giggling. “Hey, isn’t that Sakusa Kiyoomi? What’s he doing here? His agency is upstairs, isn’t it?” she asks one of her colleagues, who quickly reaches for her make-up mirror and fixes her hair.

Now you too turn your head forward and see Sakusa walking in your direction with a bunch of white lilies. Everyone looks after him, puzzled, and you also stare at him with irritation as he stops in front of you. “Uhm... I wanted to bring these over to you because I have to go upstairs to talk to my manager about a photo shoot.”

The whispering of your colleagues gets louder and louder and you still look a little confused, but you take the bouquet and stand up. “Kiyoomi, what is this about?” you whisper to him, not quite knowing how to react. Sakusa grazes your arm, wanders up to your cheek and looks deep into your eyes. “You were right. I should never have had this stupid idea. I should have asked you. And even if I’m worried about you, I only want to see you by my side in any pictures on the internet. After all, you are the woman I love. I’m really sorry. Will you... accept my clumsy apology?” Sakusa gazes at you with such a puppy-dog look that you can’t help but put the bouquet on your table and jump into his arms.

Of course, Sakusa did not sign the contract with the tennis player.

At his next match, you’re in the front row as usual, and when Sakusa scores the final point to victory and his team cheers along with him, he immediately runs to you, pulling you over the barrier to hold you in his arms before setting you down and cupping your cheeks with his hands. Just a few seconds later, you feel his lips on yours, cameras pointing at you and taking photos. But you couldn’t care less. “You know, I’ve wanted to do this so many times before,” he says calmly, leaning his forehead against your own.

Although everyone knows your face now, Sakusa is always reserved in interviews when it comes to private questions.

He will not answer questions about you if they become too personal.

In the beginning, the paparazzi and reporters were really a nuisance, but everything calmed down over time and the two of you can go out and enjoy dates together without being followed, just like back then, before his career.

#haikyuu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #Sakusa x reader #ushijima x reader #kuroo x reader #tetsurou kuroo x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader

290 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months ago

Text

End Game 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: we're here to boo Andrew.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“So, you’re coming?” Jacob’s voice quavers with excitement. You can’t imagine how he’d sound if you said no. You hate letting people down, it seems to be all you've ever done.

“Uh, yeah,” you say as you steer around the track; opting for some MarioKart over Minecraft that night, “boss says it’s no problem to get the days off. Just have to make it up after. Is... Is everything still good on your end?”

“Oh yeah, sure thing,” he assures buoyantly, “I can’t wait. Did you still wanna split the airBnB?”

“Actually, I got a place to stay for the night then I’ll take the early bus back,” you explain as Princess Peach knocks you off the track, “argh!”

“Right, that’s good,” he says, “good to know you won’t be stranded out there.”

“Mhm,” you use your boost to catch up to Peach and get your revenge. You don’t mention that Kara will be with you at the con. You just want to be sure this isn’t something wonky. “It’ll be nice to get out of town. My grandma will probably be happy to have the place to herself.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “what’s her problem anyway?”

“Just the way she is. She likes her space,” you shrug, “I don’t know, I don’t think she expected to be raising her granddaughter...”

“Ah, yeah, I guess that would be stressful,” he says, “still, seems like you’re not too bad to be around. Got a job, go to school, all that. Think my dad would love it if I put in half as much effort.”

“Yeah? You make him sound like a hard ass.”

“Can be. Lawyer, so kinda his schtick,” he chuckles.

“Oo, fancy,” you snort. Maybe if either of your parents had been lawyers, you wouldn’t be living off your grandma’s resent.

“I guess. Never really see him that much...” he grumbles.

“Hm, well, no winning, is there?” You mutter.

“Not really,” he sighs and hisses, “ugh, Toad!”

You chuckle and cross the finish line. A respectable second. You wait for him to finish and stifle a yawn.

“Tired?” He asks.

“Little.”

“Me too, long day,” he groans, “neck’s killing me.”

“Oh, what’d you do--”

“You know, I’m-- an idiot. Was messing around on my bike.”

“Of course,” you snicker, “well, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna sign off. I don’t wanna keep my grandma up and my head’s starting to go.”

“Sure, I gotta get up early anyway,” he sounds less than enthused. “Good night.”

“You too.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Can’t, work. Day after?”

“Okay, I’ll make it work,” he confirms, “I’m excited about meeting up. Aren’t you?”

“Yep,” you try not to show your doubt. You’re still not really sure about everything.

“Can’t wait,” he rasps and the silt in his tone makes you shiver.

“Yeah, er, bye then,” you hit end session and take off your headset, your ears tender and a bit sweaty. Even if it is awkward, at least you’ll get to hang with Kara for a bit. You haven’t seen her since grad.

🎮

You’re already exhausted and you’re not even inside yet. The line for the convention is bustling and your excitement keeps you going as you and Kara gab away and move with the slow crawl. The sun beams down and has you sweating, though you could easily blame that on your nerves too.

“So, this Jacob... is he cute?” She winks.

“Kara,” you roll your eyes, “it’s not like that. Really. We just game.”

“Oh yeah. But do you want it to be more?” She teases.

“You know I’m not really into all that. I don’t have room for a boyfriend in my life.”

“So boring. Never change, girlie,” she nudges you playfully. “But really, that’s smart. Calvin is too much. I’m thinking of cutting him loose.”

“Again?” You squint.

“Not my fault he keeps coming back,” she giggles.

You peer around, searching out a familiar face amid the ocean of strangers. You haven’t seen Jacob yet. You’re almost hoping he doesn’t show up. Then again, why wouldn’t he? He paid for you to be here. The reminder of the fact strikes guilt in your chest.

You pause as your eyes catch another pair, further back in the queue. An older man with a beard. He stands out among the crowd. He wears a tidy button-up where most wear graphic tees or cosplay attire. He stares for a moment before he turns away and looks down, probably at whatever kid dragged him there.

“Well, what are you going to do if he sees you and falls in love?” Kara asks.

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes.

“If he’s a nerd like you, how could he not?”

“Hey,” you frown.

“What? You’re like the sexy gamer girl type. Isn’t that what dudes want?” She shrugs. “Let me see his pic again. He’s a skinny little thing. He’d definitely be into you.”

“Urgh, stop,” you cross your arms.

“Sorry, I’m only playing. You just seem so nervous, I’m trying to loosen you up.”

“I know,” you puff, “it’s just... I should’ve just said no. This is stupid. I don’t know why I even agreed.”

“To get out of that shithole,” she snips. “Why do you think I hauled ass the minute I popped by grad cap on?”

“Mm, yeah, I just hope... do you think he really wants that? Maybe I gave him the wrong idea. Oh, Kar, I really didn’t mean to lead him on.”

“No, no, I’m sure it’s nothing you did if he does. I mean, he’s probably a virgin so...”

“That’s mean,” you pout.

“What, so are you,” she laughs.

“Exactly,” you shake your head and drop your arms, a buzz jittering your skirt pocket.

You look down at yourself as you slide your phone free. That was probably a bold choice but it’s so damn hot out. Besides, your Pikachu tee is loose enough to counteract the denim sheath. You turn the screen up, shading it with your hand as you read.

‘Sorry, not going to make it. Something came up. 🙁'

You frown and reread the message. Really? You came all the way here, took time off of work, and he’s flaking?

“What’s up?” Kara asks as she clicks her manicured nails impatiently and stands on her toes, trying to see past the bodies ahead.

“He just cancelled,” you mutter and type in your reply.

‘Oh no. Hope it’s nothing bad. Maybe another time.’

You hit send and drop your shoulders. You’re surprised how disappointed you are. More so about the wasted effort than anything. Even if you are a bit relieved, it’s shitty.

“Ah, bullshit!” Kara sneers, “what the hell? What did he say?” She reaches for your phone and you hold it out of her grasp. “That fucker.”

“It’s probably not his fault. Shit happens.”

“Babe, you’re gonna settle for a lot of nonsense if you keep that attitude. I’d be friggin pissed if I was you. He brings you all the way here and now he’s too good for you. I bet he saw some cute girl in line and she smiled at him once so now he’s ditching,” she scowls, “I hate boys.”

“I’m sure... it’s nothing,” you say glumly as your phone vibes again.

‘I’m real sorry. I hope you still have a good time. Take lots of pictures.’

You don’t respond. You lock your phone and put it back in your pocket. It never feels good to be stood up. Even then.

“You know what, screw him,” Kara snarls, “let’s go in there and buy you the cutest plushie you can find. Hell, maybe you can find an even cuter guy.”

“Kar,” you warn her.

“Fine, just the plushie. Maybe two,” she trills, “forget that loser.”

🎮

The chaos of the convention wipes away the dark cloud over you. You’re almost thankful that Jacob gave you the opportunity to catch up with Kara. You didn’t realise how much you missed her. It’s perfect day where you can forget about your grandmother and your lame job and everything else.

You rush around from booth to booth. You look at fanart, handmade figures, and stuffies. You’re mindful of your wallet and how empty it really is. You’ll get one thing and a snack. That’s all you can afford.

As the hours roll by, your early morning bus ride and time spent standing out in the hot sun catch up to you. You feel your muscles starting to ache and your eyelids turning fuzzy. You yawn as you shuffle behind Kara as she waits in line to get a signature from the one D-list celeb she’s heard of. You’d get one too but it’s way too expensive.

“Hey,” you rub your cheek, “mind if I sit and wait? I wanna grab a soft pretzel anyway.”

“Sure,” she agrees easily, “looks like it’s gonna be a while.”

“Want me to bring you a drink or something?” You offer.

“Nah, just text me where you are so I can find you,” she says.

You leave her reluctantly. You’d rather not be wandering alone through the hordes but your feet are killing you and your stomach’s been roaring for the last hour. You stand in line for the pretzel stall and get yours with cinnamon sugar and syrup. Messy but delicious.

You find a table in the corner and settle in. You put your phone beside the napkin and tear apart the doughy goodness. Your phone lights up with a notification from the merge game you like to play and you see several other icons; missed messages.

You focus on your snack, savouring each bite, as your eyes drift around the crowded centre. You can barely see some of the booths as hordes cluster around. Some cosplayers bat at each other with toy swords as children fight over the arcade machines. You’re overwhelmed by the sheer amount of activity all around.

You put your head down trying to block out the lights and noise. You feel yourself getting overstimulated. It’s like when you’re in the lecture hall and suddenly you can hear every sniff, sneeze, and keystroke. You close your eyes as you wipe your fingertips on the edge of the napkin, only half-finished your pretzel.

“Looks good,” a deep voice cuts through the blaring din.

As you recognise the timbre, your heart squeezes and the world pinpoints at the centre of your skull. You open your eyes and slowly raise your head. You blink dumbly at the unfamiliar man stood in front of you. You think you’ve seen him before, or at least he sticks out from the typical convention attendee.

It isn’t that he’s too old, there’s lots of older geeks hanging around but they have neckbeards and greasy combovers. His hair is tidy and his beard trimmed close. His clothing also lacks the typical Dorito dust or anime character. You remember, he was outside in the line.

“Uh, hello?” You utter.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says as he pulls out the chair across from you. He sits as your insides plunge. You know his voice.

“Jacob?” You murmur in shock. How? Why? This isn’t the stringy teenager you met online.

He nods, his jaw tensing, and he crosses an arm over the table, pointing to your half-eaten pretzel, “what’d you get on yours? I can’t decide between sweet or savoury.”

“Who... are you?” You croak, head spinning as your eyes prick. You knew something was weird. You knew you weren’t talking to Jacob or whoever that boy was in the pictures.

He takes a breath and lets it out slowly. As his chest deflates, you do too. He’s older than you, bigger than you, and by the looks of him, a lot better off. Why the hell would he be chatting with you? Why would he lie to you?

“You’re right. I’m not Jacob,” he confesses, the colour draining from his face. He steeples his fingers and considers his next words carefully. You sit back and hug yourself defensively. This is fucked. “My name is Andy, Jacob is my son.”

“Your son?” You eke out, “why-- why would you lie?”

He cringes and takes another breath, “he was my son,” he corrects himself, “he... passed.”

You feel like you’ve been struck. Your mouth falls open, stunned. Not only did he hide behind his son’s photos, but his dead son’s. Oh, god. You feel sick. No, you feel stupid.

“Look, please, just hear me out. I just—it wasn’t meant to go on this long. When I first lied to you, it was supposed to be that one time. I was... I was lost. I just lost Jacob and I was going through his things. I started playing because I missed him. I wanted to feel like he was still there--”

“No, no, you got on discord and you started talking to me. As him!” Your voice shakes and your eyes tinge. “That’s not just missing him.”

“I know, you’re right. I lied but... I got lonely playing by myself so yes, I went onto that discord. You were nice. You didn’t call me a noob or whatever. And... and after work, looking forward to hearing your voice, it got me through a lot of pain. Being alone in that house after so long, I couldn’t cope--”

“So you lied to me?” You stand and snatch your phone, nauseous to the core, “you manipulated me. How do you know—if you had just been you that I would’ve been any different? If you just wanted to play games, to be friends--”

“I was scared--”

“I don’t care if you were scared,” you hiss as you stomp forward. “You’re an adult.”

He stands and blocks your path. You recoil, put off by his height. He’s a lot bigger on his feet.

“Please, move or... I’ll scream,” you breathe.

“You don’t have to do that. Just hear me out,” he pleads.

“I don’t want to hear anything else from you, Jacob. Or Andy. Or whoever you really are,” you sneer, “move.”

He shudders and hangs his head. He makes himself seem small as his shoulders round and he backs out of your way. You bite down and march past him.

You need to get to a bathroom. Now. You’re going to spew up your guts. More important, you need to get yourself together before you go find Kara. She can’t know this happened. It’s too embarrassing.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #defending jacob #end game

280 notes · View notes

da-extroverted-introvert · 20 days ago

Text

Are we even friends? (tasm!Peter Parker x reader)

Fandom: The Amazing Spider-Man, Marvel

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Word count: 2.66k

Warnings: angst, death mention, grief

So I had a burst of inspiration and wrote this. I haven't seen the Andrew Garfield Spiderman movies in a hot minute so things may not be entirely accurate but please just roll with it. Working on a part 2 already, hope you enjoy. Please leave feedback!

Dividers by @lavendergalactic

You sit in the car and take a few deep breaths. You clutch the bouquet of flowers in your hand, trying to will yourself to step foot out of the car. Even after three months, this is hard to do. It’s like the first time all over again. The grief hits you just as hard as the day of the funeral.

Despite the gnawing feeling deep in your gut, you bring yourself to unbuckle your seat belt and walk out of the car.

You walk through the long, long aisle of headstones and grave markers. A bunch of people long gone who you’ll never know. It breaks your heart to know that to other people visiting loved ones, Gwen Stacy is just another headstone. Another person nobody will know again.

You finally make it up to Gwen’s grave. You kneel down and gently set down the bouquet. You stay kneeling there, just staring at your best friend’s name.

You take a deep breath before you start speaking.

“Hey. It’s me again.”

You pause for a moment, almost as if you’re expecting a response, even though there hasn’t been a single response throughout the many times you’ve been here.

“My grades are doing really good now. Applied for a few scholarships, and I actually think I might get into an Ivy League.”

You smile gently, knowing Gwen would be so proud of you. Whenever you doubted yourself, she would always encourage you. You remember the countless nights of her helping you with homework, telling you how much you’ve improved. She even said she was positive you’d get into the same school, becoming roommates and actually living together. Like sisters.

“Everyone in school misses you. They still talk about how amazing you were. How smart and how nice.”

Just yesterday you were walking down the hall past Gwen’s locker. There’s still plenty of pictures and decorations commemorating her. It gives you hope that Gwen will not be forgotten for a long time.

But you also think about the looks you get when you walk by. The sad, pitiful looks. You hate those looks. You also think some of those odd expressions are looks of confusion, as it was so weird to see you without Gwen Stacy right in front of you. You’ve always been Gwen Stacy’s best friend. People don’t know how to react seeing you without her.

“Uhmm…Peter misses you.”

You always choke up a bit at this part.

“We all do, of course, but especially Peter. I try to visit him every day. He doesn’t really talk to me though.”

Not that he talked to you too much before Gwen died, but you still felt like mentioning it.

“He just kind of sits in his room all the time. He hasn’t been in school much.”

The few times he has shown up in school, he just kind of ignores everyone. He must be getting tired of those pitiful looks in the hallways too.

“I’ve tried looking out for him. Like…like you would’ve wanted.”

God, you hate this. You really hate this.

“He just won’t let me in. I know he’s not going out as Spider-Man anymore, but he’s just not doing anything. He just sits in his room all the time. Not talking to anyone. Not even May.”

If he isn’t even talking to May, why would he talk to you?

You take a deep breath and finally stand up fully, your legs aching from kneeling on the hard ground for too long.

“I’m actually headed to his place now. I know he probably won’t talk to me, but I’ll still try. For you.”

You try to keep the tears back.

“Even if he doesn’t talk to me, May still lets me hang out. You know she makes the best food.”

You stare at her name again, not wanting to say goodbye again. But you know you have to.

“Anyway, that’s all. Thought I’d keep you updated. I’ll visit same time next week.”

You can almost hear her say goodbye to you. But you know it’s in your head. So you finally turn around and go back to your car, preparing for yet another uneventful visit to the Parker residence.

You knock on the door, preparing to put on a happy face in front of May. She’s such a sweet lady, you don’t want her to worry too much about you. She already has to worry about Peter, and you don’t want to put any extra stress on her shoulders.

Sure enough, May answers the front door with her signature sweet smile.

“Hey there, sweetie! Come on in, I just put on a pot of coffee, you must be freezing out here.”

She ushers you in and you revel in the warm atmosphere of the home.

“Thanks, May. I appreciate it.”

She dismisses your statement with a wave.

“Think nothing of it, hun.”

You sit down at the coffee table while May gets the coffee ready. While she does, you look around the home, which you’ve done countless times at this point.

Your favorite thing to look at is the picture on the wall of Peter. He must’ve been young, maybe sixth grade. In the picture, he’s at a science fair, holding up a nice red ribbon with “1st Place” written on it. May and Ben are standing proudly behind him as he smiles brightly at the camera. It makes you smile, seeing him so happy. But you also get sad, wishing he had some of that childlike joy back in his life.

May brings comes back in the room with two cups of coffee in her hand.

“Here you go, should warm you right up.”

You accept the cup with a smile, embracing the warm feeling on your hands. The warmth spreads when you take a sip. The coffee is nothing special, just as generic as any cup of coffee, but knowing that May made it for you and how happy she was to see you makes it taste better.

“Peter’s in his room if you want to say hi.”

She didn’t need to tell you where he was. You knew.

“Okay, I’ll go see him.”

You take a final sip of coffee and walk to Peter’s room.

You contemplate knocking on his door. You know if you knock that he probably won’t answer you, but if you just walk in, he still won’t talk to you. So, knowing the answer will be the same either way, you just walk in.

It looks like Peter hasn’t moved an inch since your last visit. He’s just laying on his bed, covered in blankets, head turned away from you. You know he’s awake though, you can tell by the way his body slightly tensed at the door opening.

“Hey, Pete.”

You speak gently, almost like you were afraid to scare him off. You close the door as softly as you can behind you.

“Missed you at school. I had the teachers give me your assignments so I can give them to you.”

No response. As usual.

You don’t know how to speak to him. You never really did. Neither of you really spoke to each other before he started dating Gwen, and when they did start dating, there was only small interactions between you. But still, you liked those small interactions. They were nice. Made you feel like you were sort of friends. But now that Gwen is gone, you don’t know where you stand.

Even so, you still try. You know that’s what Gwen would want. She wouldn’t want the love of her life wasting away like this.

“Have you eaten at all today?”

No answer.

“I know you’re, like, superhuman and all, but even so, you need to have some food in your body.”

You lick your lips and sigh, getting a little bit frustrated. It’s the same thing every day. You talk, he lays there, then you go home. You don’t feel like your presence is helping him that much, but if you don’t make an effort, you know you’ll feel guilty.

“How about some pizza? I can order one and it’ll be delivered in no time.”

As expected, no response. God, this boy is so infuriating sometimes.

“I know you hear me. Your spidey-senses kind of force you to.”

It’s still weird that Peter’s Spider-Man. You only found out about his secret by accident. You just walked into Gwen’s room, without knocking of course, as best friends do, and there you saw a surprised Gwen and Peter in his suit, mask in hand. That was a few weeks before the accident.

“Come on, Peter. You need to eat something. We can’t have you wasting away in here.”

“Why do you care?”

Even though his voice is raspy and not at all loud, you still flinch. That’s the most you’ve gotten out of him in three months.

“I, uh, what do you mean? Of course I care.”

“Why?”

His voice is a little louder this time.

“Because, we’re friends, Peter. I care about you.”

He sits up in his bed and faces you. You can finally get a good look at him. His once bright eyes, full of joy and mischief are dull and bloodshot.

“Since when? I mean, we barely talk.”

You don’t really know what to say, because it is true, you never talked with Peter as much as you would’ve liked to, but you still kind of thought those small interactions amounted to a friendship.

Just as you try to speak again, he talks some more.

“We both know the only reason we ever hung out was because of Gwen. And she’s not here now. So, please, just…”

He moves his arms around, trying to get his frustration across.

“Leave me alone.”

When he says this, he looks dead into your eyes, which are slowly but surely filling up with tears. You try not to let them fall.

You’ve been wishing for Peter to say something to you for months now, and now that it’s happened, you just want to curl into a ball on the ground.

Not wanting to be in the room with him any longer, you turn around and face the door. You put your hand on the doorknob but before you twist it, you turn your head towards Peter.

“I know you never really thought of me as a friend, Peter. A part of me always knew you just putting up with me for Gwen’s sake. But I always respected you, Pete. You were kind, funny, cool. Never mean.”

A couple of tears drops fall despite yourself.

“I remember when there was that Homecoming dance. You and Gwen were going together but I didn’t have a date. I was fine staying home, but you felt bad and invited me to come with you guys. You didn’t have to, nobody was forcing you, you just offered. Gwen didn’t even have to ask you to, you just did it.”

You wipe your cheek for a moment, still trying to keep eye contact with the boy in front of you.

“It was small things like that that made me like you. You’re such a good person Peter. I mean, you’re fucking Spider-Man, of course you’re a good person.”

You take one final big breath.

“So, you may not consider me a friend, Peter Parker, but you are mine. You are my friend. And I don’t have many of those, so, I’ve got to look after you.”

You finally twist the doorknob and open the door.

“It’s what Gwen would’ve wanted.”

With that final sentiment, you walk out of his room and speed past May, who is clearly worried about the tears on your face, eager to leave this house and go home to cry.

You spend the rest of your night watching movies in your room. You’re laying on your bed in your pajamas, bowl of popcorn in your lap. You glance at the opposite side of the bed. The side Gwen would sit as she laughed at the movies with you.

You try to focus on the movie, trying not to think about Gwen so much, and also trying not to think about your fight with Peter.

Was it even a fight? Neither of you yelled, but he did make you cry. He said some hurtful things. Things that were partially true. But you still didn’t want to see him. Seeing him hurt you a lot. All you can think about was the way he looked at you, with annoyance, frustration, anger. You felt bad for him, you know he’s grieving too, but he just made your blood boil and your eyes well up with tears.

Despite this, you know you’ll still visit him tomorrow. Because Gwen would want you to. Because that’s what friends do.

You hear a knock on your bedroom door.

“Come in!”

Instead of your mom or dad like you expected, none other than Peter Parker walks through your door.

He’s actually dressed in New clothes, as opposed to the weeks old clothes you saw him wear earlier. His eyes look like they’re filled with guilt.

“Hey.”

You’re not used to seeing Peter Parker in your room. He only showed up a few times when he crashed yours and Gwen’s movie nights.

“Hey.”

Peter looks at the ground nervously, hand reaching to scratch the back of his head.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I have been an absolute jerk to you and you don’t deserve that.”

You nod slowly, processing his words.

“You’re grieving. I get it. It’s okay.”

He quickly shakes his head.

“No, no, it’s not okay. I know I’m grieving, but you are too. I’ve just been shutting you out when all you want to do is help. It’s not right.”

You have no words. You certainly weren’t expecting this, but maybe you should have. It is Peter, after all. He’s a superhero. Always trying to make things right.

“You have always been nice to me, and you never gave up on me, even when I completely shutting you out. I haven’t been a good friend to you, and I want that to change.”

Hearing him actual say that he wants to be your friend warms your heart more than it should.

You give him a slight smile.

“You can start being a good friend and have a movie night with me?”

At first, Peter looks shocked that you’re willing to just forgive him so quickly. But then the expression on his face soon turns jovial as you shoot over on the bed, allowing him to sit next to you.

You smile as you press play on the movie you were watching. You can feel Peter’s eyes on the side of your face, but you ignore it until you know he’s watching the movie. Both of you just sit and watch, hands leisurely grabbing popcorn from the bowl between you. It almost feels normal, natural.

It actually feels like you have a friend again. Not that he can ever replace Gwen. And you know you could never replace Gwen in Peter’s eyes either. But both of you are filling the space that Gwen’s death left. It makes things easier for the both of you. It’s nice knowing that you have each other during this difficult time.

After a while, when all is calm between you and Peter and the movie is almost over, you turn to look over at Peter.

“You know, I visited Gwen’s grave today. I visit every week. You could come with me if you want.”

Peter is still for a moment, eyes locked on the screen in front of you. You wish you didn’t bring it up, knowing that Peter is just now starting to talk about Gwen’s death, and now you may have pushed too far too fast.

But then he looks over at you, a sad but gentle smile on his face.

“Yeah. I think that’d be nice.”

#peter parker #andrew garfield #the amazing spiderman #spiderman #tasm #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #emma stone #gwen stacy #andrew garfield x reader #peter parker x reader #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction

82 notes · View notes

goldsainz · 2 years ago

Text

HIS LUCKY CHARM — one shot.

pairing: lando norris x reader

MASTERLIST.

summary: lando is disappointed you can’t make it to his home race, only to be surprised at the end.

request: “Hi! Could you write something about Lando and reader when she surprise him on race day. Lando is sad when she told can't do this on his home race bc something important with her work but after all she appears on Sunday on track. He is more than happy with that and archive good resolut be she is his lucky charm”

warnings: teeny tiny bit of angst, a probably not accurate depiction of the garage

NOTE: WHAT A RACE!! loved the lando+lewis podium, also oscar was great 🫶 anyway, to celebrate have this little thing, thank you sm for requesting bc this inspired me a lot (you kinda manifested the good result???) i added a shameless cameo in there, i just couldnt help myself! (the ending is rushed, ignore it😁)

[ word count: 2,2k ]

“I’m so sorry, Lando.” Is what you say to your boyfriend when you have to break the bad news to him.

“It’s okay.” His face breaks into a broken smile, with glossy eyes he holds your hands and brushes his thumbs up and down your palms.

“I’ll still tune in.”

“I know.”

“I’ll be rooting for you.”

“I know.”

You take your hands from his hold, and place them around his neck. You watch as his right posture lightly relaxes at your touch.

“I don’t wanna miss it. You know I don’t.”

You wish your job wasn’t as demanding as it was, that it didn’t make you fly to another country in the middle of your boyfriend’s home Grand Prix. But it does. And you’re not sure how to handle the emotional stress it inflicts on you both, and you sure hope it doesn’t affect him in a way that will mess up his race.

“And if I could make it, I would.”

“It’s alright. It’s your job, I know it’s not your fault.” Even though Lando’s words seem reassuring, and he means them with his whole heart; you still feel guilty.

With that, he stands up and makes his way to the kitchen of your shared apartment. You watch him leave, and with a heavy heart start to pack whatever stuff you need for your trip. It destroys you to see him sad so close to his home race, a time where he should be joyous, only worried about the car and nothing more.

You’re not sure how you’re going to make it up to him, but you will.

Somehow.

You were being a little secretive, and you were sure Lando definitely noticed.

Your boss and you had managed to come to an arrangement which allowed you to be present for the race. It would all be very tight in timing, but nothing that couldn’t be accomplished. It involved a lot of overworking the days before, but it was very much worth it.

You could already imagine the face Lando would make when he finally saw you. Whether he got a good result or not, there was no doubt you wanted to be there with him.

It took a lot of care for you to arrive at the paddock almost incognito, with fans already speculating why you weren't at his home race. Thankfully no break-up rumours had surfaced, but there were a couple hurtful ones that made you want to be present even more.

But you knew that no matter how much Lando acted like he was oblivious to what happened around him, his silly act was simply that; an act. You didn't like keeping secrets from him, it felt wrong to have to blatantly lie to him whilst everyone around him knew something he didn't. Still, it would all work out in the end.

Lando’s family had been so happy to see you in the paddock. His grandma (who adored you) hugged you as tightly as she could, quickly bidding you goodbye when you told her you had to go to the garage quickly to get prepared for the race.

There was no doubt that the tingly feeling of nerves creeped up on you the moment you spotted all the engineers and people moving around, getting everything that needed to be set up wrapped up so the race could go smoothly. Zak was already at the pit wall, and Lando was sitting in his car ready for the formation lap to begin.

At the garage you spotted Florence Pugh, who had a McLaren headset on. You had seen her on the paddock, but wasn't aware of the fact that she had come to the race invited by McLaren. You tried not to freak out, you saw celebrities almost everywhere when you came to races or went out with Lando. Still, the actress had a special place in your heart.

It took a little of hyping yourself up, and confidence to walk up to her, but you did. You would be sharing the garage for an hour and a half, the least you could do is socialise a little.

“Hi! I’m Y/N.” You said to Florence watching her turn around with a smile on her face.

“Hello!” She says, greeting you like you were an old friend. “I’m Florence”

“You’re a McLaren fan?”

“Honestly, I’m more of a Lewis fan.” She said with a laugh, keeping ehr voice just loud enough so you could hear her.

“I get that. I mean, who isn’t?”

The conversation flowed for a little more until the race was about to start. You excused yourself and moved to an area closer to the screen, where you could watch Lando close-up. You loved being in the garage because of the different screens and the attention to their drivers, that allowed you to experience the race in different ways.

Your headset was adjusted and you were awaiting the moment where David Croft would say it’s lights out. Your knee was slightly bouncing, but you tried your best to contain the nerves.

“It lights out and away we go!” Exclaims David Croft, his voice echoing through the garage.

You watch as Lando has a great start, and it takes about a second for him to take the lead. You hear the roar of the crowd before you can even react.

“Yes! Go Lando!” You scream, your voice doesn't make anyone flinch because everyone around you has the same reaction. It is a sight to behold, a moment you are more than grateful to see live.

“I can’t believe it.” Someone next to you says, and you can't help but smile.

It is no secret how badly the season started for McLaaren. You watched Lando’s smile waver more than once, his faith in the team never wavering, but still. He was rightfully let down by the performance of the adr,a dn you had to reassure him multiple times that it wasn't his fault. Because he was doing the best that he could with what he had.

So now, seeing him get to this moment, is absolutely deserved.

A couple of laps go by and Max takes the lead for your boyfriend. There is disappointment in the atmosphere, but everyone knows that P2 is a miracle and that Lando is doing absolutely great work out there. They all know how great it would be to have him finish in that position, especially since Oscar is P3.

Getting a podium in Silverstone would mean the world to Lando, Which is why you're worried about what will happen when they pit. Whatever strategy they choose will determine if Lando gets podium or not, and you will not pretend to really know what happens or how they come up with strategies, but you hope that they dont mess up his race because of wrong timing or choose the wrong tyres.

As you watch his car race, you suddenly see on the screen that one of the Haas cars has come to a halt. A safety car is deployed, which means a couple of cars will choose to change tyres. The whole garage groans when Lewis’s car comes out in front of Oscar’s after he pits, now challenging Lando’s position.

It’s like you can’t breathe between those laps that Lando and Lewis battle for P2. Everyone is at the edge of their seats watching them race against the other, and you hope that this doesn't end up running both their races. The last thing anyone wants is for them to crash, because going from that position to a DNF would result in disappointment for everyone involved.

“Come on, Lando! Come on!” You scream, your palms intertwined in front of you as you watch him fight for his position.

Thankfully, Lando manages to maintain his standing and leaves Lewis behind him for good. The hard compound tyres he was pitted for are giving him a tough time, you know that it is not ideal. Not when he could've lost his position, but with just 10 laps to go your faith in him is over the roof.

You’re on twitter, refreshing your timeline to see if there is anything you missed. The fans are so enthusiastic, their comments make you smile. Even if there are people out there who don't like Lando, there are even more who love him and want nothing but the best for him.

You watch as Florence is escorted out of the garage since she will be waving the flag. You watch her face light up in excitement, and in all her excitement she still waves at you. You don't waste a second in waving right back at her, turning your head right after to the screens.

The moment Lando crosses the finish line the McLaren garage erupts in cheers. You hug whoever is next to you, a teary smile pulling at your lips. You cannot help the tears that fall down your face, you usually don't get that emotional during a race, but this is his home race and he is on the podium. If there is any time to cry, this is it.

You are almost running to the barriers, waiting for the moment that Lando steps out of his car and goes to celebrate with the team. You are wearing his merch, something that will surely stand out to him, enough that in his podium haze he will spot you.

He goes up to the team, his helmet now long gone, and that is when he sees you.

You who told him you couldn't make it, are suddenly there.

In a flash he moves in front of you. You cannot tell him anything because in an instant he is grabbing you, squeezing you so tight he lifts you up from the ground in excitement, you giggle right in his ear and he is sure that that is the most beautiful sound he will ever hear. He is careful not to take the barrier with him, not wanting a warning from the stewards.

After a couple seconds you pull back slightly enough to see his face. Your hands waste no time in grabbing his face and placing his lips right over yours. Lando reacts almost immediately, melting right into the kiss, the adrenaline from the race still pumping through his veins. You can hear some cameras click, and the cheer from some people, but you ignore it.

You have to pull back eventually, not because you want to, but because there is so much to say and not enough time, not to forget the fact that he has yet to go to the podium.

“I cannot believe you’re here.” He whispers right over your lips, his sticky forehead pressed against yours.

“I couldn’t miss this.” You say, watching as his lips pull into a grin.

“I was pretty cool out there, wasn't I?” You snort at his words, separating from him but his hands never leave your waist.

“Oscar was really cool.” His grip on your waist tightens, “I haven’t properly congratulated him yet, actually.”

Someone from the team says something to him, you're sure they're telling him to wrap your conversation up because he has to go up to the podium.

“You were great out there.” You tell him, your eyes holding all the sincerity in the world. You watch his gaze soften at your words, and he places a quick peck as he finally lets you out of his hold.

“Of course I was,” You shake your head at his smugness, “My lucky charm was here.”

You cannot help the tears that well up in your eyes at the softness of his words. You know that the celebrations and compliments are not over, but for now they are. You step back a little from the barrier, seeing as he is rushed to the podium and joins his fellow drivers on the steps.

You smile up at him, watching as he grabs the champagne. He moves it around a little and then hits it against the ground, effectively bringing back the iconic champagne spike he does whenever he is on the podium.

Lando sprays it everywhere, and you're almost sure a little hits you. Your theory is confirmed when he is smiling widely at you, like a kid caught doing something he should but isn't the least bit sorry. You laugh at his antics, which in turn makes him smile even wider (which you're not sure how it's even possible).

When the champagne runs out, his gaze catches yours once more. You mouth an “I love you” to him, watching from afar as he blushes. A second after he returns the sentiment, mouthing it back and blowing you a kiss.

You thank your boss in your head for letting you be here with him, because if you hadn't been here with him you would've sure felt horrible for it.

After all, Lando needs his lucky charm with him and you're more than happy to oblige to his wishes.

2K notes · View notes

lordprettyflackotara · 2 months ago

Text

Follow You || Chapter Two || Eyeless Jack

sum: after returning to your college dorm room, jack just can’t stay away. this ends up resulting in an unfortunate run in with your unhinged roommate

tw: mentions of drug usage/drugs

a/n: i want to make it very clear i do not support drug usage as depicted in this story. this is a work of fiction and i would never encourage you to snort adderall lmaoo

chapter one is here

“You’re gonna be shaped like the letter C for the rest of your life if you sit like that.”

Jennifer’s voice was sour, an obvious sign she was sober. You looked over at your roommate, rolling your eyes. “You sit just like this, only you do it to get high, I do it for academics,” You countered. You wouldn’t consider your roommate, Jennifer, a friend. If anything she was far from it. She had long ginger hair, big green eyes, and freckles that decorated her cheeks. You had been assigned as roommates your freshman year of college. You both had heard horror stories of other people's roommates and decided although you weren’t fond of one another, you could tolerate each other's habits.

Giving Jennifer the benefit of the doubt she wasn’t wrong, even if it was hypocritical. You had been hunched over your desk for what felt like eternity, studying and writing notes for an upcoming exam. Out of instinct you leaned back, stretching over the back of your chair. “Touché. This exam has you bent out of shape huh?” Jennifer asked. She was laying on her bed, lazily hanging her head off of the side. Her eyes were glued to her phone, her fingers typing away. “That's a severe understatement. You try taking biochemistry. Everything is blending together the longer I look at it,” You sighed. You rubbed your temple, letting out an exhausted breath. “Yeah, I think I'm good. I’ll still with my art major,” The ginger replied. Glancing at her you could see the noticeable eye bags hanging under her eyes. You see Jennifer had an astounding drug problem, one you had grown tolerant of. Despite not partaking in substances yourself, you were well educated in the world of pharmaceuticals. Jennifer took advantage of your knowledge, in exchange for keeping that aspect of her life out of your dorm.

Your shared bathroom was up for grabs naturally, but your main bedroom was not. You thought of Jennifer to just be a woke party girl, who spent her spare time either partying or attending whatever cause she was obsessed with for the week. This week it happened to be veganism. You suspected this charade wouldn’t last long, considering any protein Jennifer consumed seemed to evaporate due to her constant drug usage. She’d feel like shit and get bacon next week at breakfast, you were sure. “Are you going to Mark’s Halloween party? It’s all anyone can talk about right now,” Jennifer asked. You propped your head up on your hand, giving her a sarcastic smile. “Cmon Jen, you know I don’t party. Besides my big exams are the day after,” You reminded her. Not that she should’ve needed reminding, considering it’s all you could think about. It may have only been the beginning of October, but your focus was consumed by your studies.

Jennifer rolled her eyes, rolling over on her stomach. “You know a part of the college experience is socializing right? Your books aren’t going to do you any favors when it comes to meeting hot guys,” She said teasingly, sticking out her tongue. You noticed she had changed her tongue piercing, a neon green ball sitting on her unbrushed tongue. “Hot guys can come after I become a doctor. Half of the guys here are gonna drop out anyways,” You replied. Jennifer snickered, her gaze returning to her phone. “Thats not what you think about Ethan Kibber though,” She teased. You felt heat rush to your cheeks at the sound of his name.

Ethan Kibber. Tall, mean, incredibly handsome. He had beautiful dreadlocks that went down to his shoulders, his chocolate orbs always captivating you every time you saw him. And his voice? It was deep and raspy enough to make you swoon. He was a psychology major, determined to thrive as a psychologist. His admission to Harvard had been publicized, his sister having been a victim to suicide. Ever since then he had been determined to help others mental health. A trait you absolutely adored. He also played football, typical jock popularity following along with it. But you admired his ability to never let that change him. Sure, your only interactions had been nods or brief greetings in the hallway. You were sure it was only because Jennifer walked beside you, but you thought the effort to acknowledge you was sweet.

Playfully you threw a pencil at her, causing her to giggle. “Don't tell me you’re going to try to bribe me by guaranteeing his attendance,” You groaned. Jennifer sat up fully, sliding off of her bed. “Not necessarily but it would be soooo good for you to get out more. You’re always cooped up in here all the time,” She replied. You watched her go over to the bathroom, doing what she did best. You tried not to stare as you heard a drawer open and shut. Her special little ‘stash’. “Hey, what'll get me through my quiz today? I have a bunch of uppers,” She asked. You cringed at the thought of her voice echoing into another dorm. “What time is your quiz?” You asked. You refrained from looking over your shoulder, no matter how much your curiosity lured you to. “In an hour,” Jennifer responded. Your eyes widened, your gaze glued to your desk. “Jesus, Jen. Take an adderall and crush it up and snort it,” You sighed. You didn’t enjoy assisting Jennifer’s drug problem, but you also despised the idea of having to help her detox. Not that she ever truly would.

“Thanks! You’re the best. Now back to what I was saying,” She replied. You could hear the rattling of pills in a bottle, before the sound of them crushing occurred. “I know you’re not a party go-er but why not give it a try? You’re basically a scientist right? Why not trial and error another party?” She asked. Another party. You felt slightly embarrassed at the memory, glancing down at your bandages. You hadn’t told anyone about Jack or what had happened. You pretended you went home with a guy you didn’t remember, earning a big congratulations from your precious roommate. Little did she or anyone else know you were a virgin, dreaming of the day Ethan Kibber would sweep you off your feet. So you played along with the story, claiming you had fallen a bunch at the party. You regretted every second that you attended, cringing at how sloppy of a drunk you turned out to be. Turns out having an unrestricted supply of alcohol is troublesome for even the best students.

“I want to be a doctor in medicine, not science. Although I appreciate the notion, I think i’m good,” You say. You cringed at the sound of her loudly snorting, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. “Give it some thought. Why not come out with me this weekend? Spend the week being a bookworm but loosen up on the weekend with me,” Jennifer suggested. She walked out of the bathroom, grabbing a hoodie. Her high waisted early 2000’s pink shorts were not suitable for the weather at all. Jennifer never feared the weather, no matter how freezing cold it was. Instead she would double layer her tank tops, making sure they were cropped enough to show off her playboy belly ring. She shoved on a hoodie that you presumed she ‘borrowed’ from her last fling. That was the only way she ever obtained winter wear. “Yeah yeah i’ll think about it. Hurry up and go before you’re late,” You say, finally rising from your chair. You handed her whatever pair of uggs she was obsessed with for the time being, wishing her good luck before practically shoving her out of the door.

You ran your fingers through your hair, stressed out beyond belief. How were you going to manage parenting your roommate while balancing studying for possibly your most important exam yet? You trudged over to the bathroom, satisfied to see that the counters were clean. You looked at yourself in the mirror, noticing how exhausted you appeared. Your hair had grown out longer than you preferred, your face more worn out looking than usual. You leaned over to the sink, flipping on the cold water. You needed to focus. You splashed your face with cold water, rubbing your eyes as you did so. Colorful dots danced in your vision as it settled, your hand struggling to find the towel. You managed to find it, wiping your face before tossing it aside.

It was then your heart jumped out of your chest, a tall ominous figure standing beside your desk. You jumped in surprise, nearly tripping over a pair of Jennifer’s discarded sneakers. Swallowing, you took deep breaths, realizing Jack was standing before you. In his visible hand was your heels, coated with mud from your journey into the woods. “Holy shit, what the hell are you doing here?” You hissed. While you were slightly fearful of Jack’s presence, the demon didn’t interpret your words to mean that at all. He held up your heels, setting them down on the floor. “I climbed through your window. You should really lock that,” Jack told you. He thought he was being helpfully informative, all the while your emotions were going haywire. “I brought you back your shoes, you accidentally left them at my cabin,” He explained. Your brain fully seemed to register the situation, your head instinctively nodding. Jack wasn’t intending to be creepy or unsettling, he was just trying to be nice.

“Thank you. You scared the shit out of me. At least give me some warning next time,” You say awkwardly, rocking back and forth on your heels. There was a certain tension, where neither of you seemed to know what to do with the other. Jack, an oversized demon with the communication skills of a walnut, just wanted to get to know you. Maybe it was the savior complex he was beginning to form, but something about you was intriguing. A connection. An odd connection that kept him wanting to come back. You, an overworked stressed out med student, were extremely unsure how to handle Jack’s attention. You had never acquired such attention from a male. Nor had you ever received such genuine kindness. It made you suspicious of his intentions, as if his rough exterior appearance didn’t do that enough. Jack inhaled, his eyebrows raising. His action confused you, your eyes widening in surprise as he pushed past you into the bathroom.

You stared dumb founded as he yanked open one of the bathroom drawers, revealing Jennifer’s infamous drawer of treasure. Jack couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “I thought you were a med student. Why the hell do you have percocet and xanax in your bathroom? Do you know how bad this is for you?” Jack asked, his tone laced with how offended he was. He was thankful for his acute sense of smell, the scent of crushed adderall catching his attention. You didn’t seem like you did substances, your face twisting in disgust. “They're not mine you flimsy snoop! They’re my roommates. How the hell did you know they were there?” You fired back. Jack went to quip a response, when his ears twitched. The scent of your roommate was coming closer, her heart racing as fast as Jack would expect from a college student snorting adderall. “Your roommate is coming,” Jack whispered. You barely managed to choke out a sound of confusion, his large hand grabbing your arm and dragging you into the bathroom. His touch was absurdly hot, his skin so warm it felt like it could burn you. You gasped in surprise as Jack pressed you back against the bathroom door, flicking the tiny lock on the door handle.

There was no time for confusion, the sound of your dorms door flying open. “Roomie? Where are you?” Jennifer asked. Jack flinched at the sound of her voice, the hoarseness making him freeze. He hadn’t accounted for being seen by anyone else. “In the bathroom, w-what’s up?” You sputtered. Jack didn’t need to relay the fear he felt, his tenseness telling you everything you needed to know. “Theyre sending the drug dogs around to our floor, I need to flush all of my shit,” Jennifer squealed, desperately shaking the doorknob. Under his mask Jack was terrified, seemingly frozen in fear. The Operator would have his head on a silver platter for exposing their kind. “I-I got it. Trust me i’ll take care of it,” You replied. Your eyes flickered back and forth at Jacks mask, searching for any emotion. The endless void of darkness stared back at you, the unsettling tar like substance dripping down the royal blue mask. Jack could then hear the sound of conversation a few doors down, a drunk pair of roommates arguing about a broken bottle. It wasn’t long before the smell of metallic blood flooded his nostrils, one of the roommates evidently cutting themselves on the glass. An odd sound escaped Jack’s throat, similar to a hum. You flinched at the sound, before pushing past Jack.

“You’ll take care of it? Let me help you it’s my stuff,” Jennifer pleaded, desperation lacing her words. Through Jack’s hungry haze, he realized just how worried your roommate was about you seeing her stash. Jack wasn’t an expert of human interaction by any means, but he gained the sense that you had no idea just how many kinds of drugs she had stored away in that drawer. Jack tried to push past you, not wanting to ruin your friendship. He grabbed random bottles, unscrewing the lids and tossing them in the toilet. “Is there someone else in there?” Jennifer asked. Jack watched your cheeks flush pink, your mouth running dry. “W-What? N-no!” You sputtered, becoming rapidly embarrassed. Your embarrassment was distraction enough, Jack managing to grab a majority of the unlabeled bottles. Your eyes flickered over to the drawer, your clammy hand grabbing a small baggie of marijuana. Jacks eye sockets widened as you shoved it down your shirt. “I can hear two sets of footsteps in there. Is this the guy?!” She squeaked, her mood jumping to excitement. Now Jack was the one flustered, freezing in place.

You grabbed the pill bottle from his hand, finishing dumping them out. Jack had misread you. You did tell her. How much did she know? “What? Fuck, uh, yeah it is,” You replied, stumbling over each word. You stood on your tippy toes, brushing past Jack’s hood. Your breath was hot against his skin, the demons own heart beginning to feel as though it was racing. “She thinks I lost my virginity in the woods, just follow my lead,” You whispered. Jack raised an eyebrow, relieved at the notion you had in fact kept his secret. “OH MY GOD! Can I meet him?” Jennifer squealed, her voice high and pitchy. Jack cringed at the sound, wondering if a human girl's whines could make his ears bleed. ”Uh no you cannot, we’re gonna leave now,” You rambled. In an unsure manner you grabbed his hand, the demon grabbing onto the wall. Your doe eyes met his, something calming about the color staring back at him. “Trust me,” You whispered. You unlocked the door, shoving it open. Jack avoided looking at Jennifer, keeping his head down. He could hear the cops beginning to search your neighboring dorm mates. “They’re coming,” Jack mumbled, just low enough so you could hear him. You squeezed his hand, pushing past a gushing Jennifer.

“This is him? Why’s he wearing a mask?” She questioned. You guided Jack over to the window, pushing the blinds aside and shoving it open. “I’m uh, into mask play,” You said slowly, as if you were unsure of the own words coming out of your mouth. Jack was halfway out of the window, freezing once he heard your flustered words. “Like ghostface? Seriously? You’ve only had sex once and you’re jumping into mask play?” Jennifer gasped, flabbergasted at the mere thought you were presenting her. Your cheeks were bright red, nervously shoving on a random pair of sneakers. “Yup I am. Don’t judge me. I don’t judge you. Gonna go now, bye!” You rambled, practically shoving Jack out of the window. He jumped down first effortlessly, realizing your dorm was on the third floor. You nervously peered out of the window, looking down at Jack. The demon knew time was thin, outstretching his arms and waiting for you to jump. The overwhelming knock at the door gave you enough courage, your eyes screwing shut as you threw yourself out of the window.

152 notes · View notes

the-traveling-poet · 7 months ago

Note

okay how abt levi coming home to see his twin babes and his wife passed out on the bed, still in their normal clothes. the kids are on top of reader and they're all just sleeping and levi walks in on them and he just stares at them with sm love that he's like 'what did i do to deserve them?' 😭♥

══════════════════════

ofc lovely! i’m so sorry for the amount of time it took me to get to this! i also hope you don’t mind i did this in drabble form, i felt it suiting. but if anything written doesn’t match your preferences, just let me know and i’ll re-write!

taglist: @21aurora @deepzombieyouth @braunsbabe @pelicanpizza @humanitys-strongest-brat @raginginferno267 dm me to be added to the taglist for levi content :)

══════════════════════

For a moment, he wondered if he might have forgotten something. Perhaps plans had been made during his work day without his knowledge. Maybe he was just home early...no, it was half past nine in the evening. He was home late, if any time hadn't been accounted for.

Why then, couldn't he see nor hear a single sound? How could such a busy home be so quiet, as the sun had only just set? Usually his home was bustling with noise not unpleasant to his ears, especially come the warmer months of summer.

Setting his uniform jacket aside to hang on a peg, and removing the over-the-knee boots to be placed into a cubby designed to hold them off the ground, Levi huffed to himself as his eyes scanned his immediate surroundings.

Before him set the living room, cleaned and seemingly untouched; he'd have to thank his wife later for keeping the place up to his standards, especially with how hard she worked to provide for their children on top of it all.

Every time he saw the evidence of her diligence to keep their home clean on top of her other tasks, he swore he fell in love all the more.

She does so much...I need more time off duty to fully repay her.

Once his gear straps had been loosened, and his dress shirt half unbuttoned under his now untied cravat, he peered into the dining room and then the kitchen; still not spotting a single sign of life. Only a discarded cup sat at the dining room table, and a cleaned pan rested on the stovetop.

At least now he knew his family had been here for dinner.

Surely they couldn't have retired to bed yet? Those brats strive to become nocturnal.

He thought to himself as he meandered down a short hall leading to his boy's room they shared.

Inside, the room was dark and vacant under the faint glow of the moon shining down through their open window, blinds swaying gently in the soft breeze that filtered through and cooled the room.

Not a toy nor article of clothing was out of place. Hell, even their shoes had been stored in their respective sides of the closet they shared.

This isn't right...Though, perhaps Y/N had the time to remind them to tidy up.

By now, a slight furrow had settled onto Levi's brow. Grey eyes squinted through the darkness as he made a last ditch effort to search his own bedroom he shared with his wife for the whereabouts of his family.

It was too quiet. Too clean. Too dark...Just how long had he been in that meeting anyways? Long enough for the sun to begin it's decent across the horizon and miss his family's company? Surely they weren't out on such a night, despite its warmth and full moon. The neighbors were a popular spot to find his family when they weren't in the home, as the couple next door had children close in age to his own. Though, he doubted such an occurrence was the case tonight.

He hadn't seen a lantern lit outside their home on his way to his own door, after all.

But soon all worry and speculation was wiped from Levi's mind when the door to the master bedroom was creaked open.

Sprawled out across his bed lay his family, snuggled up and tangled into impressive positions under the duvet.

In the center of his bed lay his wife, an arm above her head and her lips parted in soft breath.

On either of her sides laid their twins, cuddled close to their mother amidst the mess of pillows and covers.

Normally Levi might have thought the boys were outgrowing their need or want to share a bed with their parents, but considering his growing concern earlier in trying to locate his wife and children, he couldn't help but smile down at the sight of them all so close and cosy.

He could never say no to his wife, much less his own children.

He stared down at them a moment in silent awe, a minute smile adorning his lips. Noting how soundly they seemed to sleep, he opted to slip into the shower for a quick wash up before ultimately joining them for the night. He was a bit of a night owl himself, but how could he resist joining such a warm scene?

Once he was dressed in loose pants and an old shirt, he crept over to the bed in the center of the room and attempted to slip onto the mattress without landing on any sprawled limbs.

And for the most part, he was successful.

Now laid back on one of his son's sides, he gentle scooped his arm around the boy’s back, easily reaching his wife's shoulder on the other side. With a deep sigh, and a small smile on his face, Levi closed his eyes, ready to finally relax for the first time today since the sun had risen.

"Daddy?"

The sudden whisper had Levi's eyes snapping open in an instant, to then peer down at the small voice that spoke it.

He came eye to sleepy eye with his son opposite his wife, who now peered over his mother's form to meet his father's curious gaze.

"Yeah, brat, s'just me." He murmured back, using his free arm to lean over and lightly ruffle his boy's hair.

"You got home late," the boy yawned, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm sorry, I got held back. I wanted to be back for dinner," Levi whispered, lightly stroking his thumb over the boy's plump cheek. His son nuzzled into the touch with yet another yawn.

"We missed you...Mom made pasta."

"Mmh...Any left that I could grab for breakfast?" Levi murmured back, smiling despite himself.

"Nope...We ate it all up. It's aaall gone now," his boy confessed with a guilty, sleepy smile.

Humming, Levi merely shook his head.

"I'd rather have you three full and satisfied than having any leftovers for another meal. Get some sleep kid, I'll stay home tomorrow."

A happy hum followed Levi's admission, though the man doubted his son even understood what he had said from how sleep he appeared. And indeed only a handful of silent seconds passed before the boy was asleep against his rough palm.

Though Levi didn't mind; touch from his family was like a balm. And so he was able to sleep soundly this night, silently soothed but the presence and soft breathing of his loved ones tangled in the sheets all around him, warming his heart, mind and soul.

#lynn’s requests #lynn’s drabbles #levi ackerman #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman drabble #levi ackerman drabbles #father levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x f!reader #aot #aot levi #aot drabble #attack on titan #snk levi #snk #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyoujin

281 notes · View notes

saerins · 1 year ago

Text

⋆୨ chapter four ୧˚ behind a box of reasons why

⋆୨ if not for you (masterlist) ⋆୨ previous: chapter three - for a while, you were all mine <> next: chapter five - if not for this love of mine ୧˚

⋆୨ synopsis ୧˚ neither of you want this. both you and sae reluctantly agree to this marriage, although sae’s dissatisfaction far outweighs your own. with hidden agendas and old flames, will this ever work out between the two of you, or will your forced spark be doomed to fail?

ೀ series: sae x f!reader | wc 7.3k | ೀ content warnings: fluff/angst, modern au, arranged marriage, rich!sae and rich!reader, jealousy/paranoia, third parties, abuse/gaslighting, some blood, trauma sharing | notes: sorry if there’s any mistakes !! rushed this out and had no time to proof >_< but heh i tried to keep angst minimal so enjoy <3

Tumultuous is a fair word to describe your honeymoon. Between being over the moon when Sae finally started acting like an actual husband to you and being down in the dumps when you realise that he’s still in contact with the ex-girlfriend that he had apparently promised to wait forever for, you’re still a little conflicted.

Still, you’re easy to appease, given how easily you believed him when he promised you he’d stay. You chalk it up to you being efficient—you’re not about to let your overactive imagination ruin your days. You’re just going to trust Sae, even with that little seed of doubt already planted in your mind.

There’s a part of you that believes he wouldn’t bother promising anything he didn’t mean; although you should know he could, given the day of your wedding, both of you lying through your teeths about loving each other. You’d like to believe that the present is different somehow.

It proves hard to do though, given how you’re achingly suspicious every single time a routine changes.

Like this morning, when Sae tells you he’s taken the day off and tells you it’s for no particular reason when you asked him about it. That paranoid voice in your head keeps wondering if he’s just using that time to meet with Mirin.

The chat messages you saw from her that day is an indication that they’re still on friendly terms, if anything. And somehow, it’s enough to make your stomach churn.

“Hey Y/N, you okay?”

Your coworker and best friend at work, Sumi, asks as she swivels her chair around to look at you, the concern lining her brows.

“Yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry about it,” you tell her, trying to brush it off as you offer the widest smile you can manage.

Sumi sighs, the scepticism clear on her face. “You’re always bottling things up to yourself,” she chides, with a hint of motherly affection your own lacks. “If you need to rant just remember I’ll listen to you anytime, okay?”

Days like this, you’re thankful for nice people like her who treat you normally despite knowing you’re the owner’s daughter. Even working in a subsidiary they own, it’s hard to escape the greedy ones who try to get close for perks.

“Thanks, Sumi,” you tell her, a genuine smile on your face this time. “Maybe I’ll take you up on it one day.”

You’re usually grounded, and you don’t usually allow stray thoughts to influence your mood or decisions. But somehow, it’s difficult when it comes to Sae, and you have to wonder whether it’s because this is the first time you think you’re in love with someone.

How would you know what it is, anyway? How should you know if it’s what you’re feeling? You’d thought Reo was someone you loved, but that felt entirely different. It was always comfortable, like a safe space that you’d rather keep stagnant than to try rocking the boat.

You think about it the entire trip home. Back home, where you’re wondering if Sae’s there, or whether he’s out with—god, you don’t even want to think her name.

When you open the door, you don’t see anyone there, and you feel a sinking in your chest. You’d been hoping that he’d be there and you can keep from overthinking, but maybe that’s asking too much. And just when you’re ready to give up and pour yourself a bath and hope to fall asleep while having one, you hear someone clearing their throat as you retreat down the corridor to your room.

Spinning around, you see your husband there, hair a mess and face stoic as usual, looking like how you first left him in the morning. You blink once, twice, wondering if you’re dreaming. Sae doesn’t usually like to stay cooped up in his room, which was why you’d thought he wasn’t home in the first place, but it looks like you thought wrong. (Yay!)

Sae’s about to speak when you cut him off.

“Oh! Right, dinner—let me put my stuff down and I’ll cook something up!” You’re already bounding down towards your room as Sae tries to call out your name, unfortunately falling on deaf ears.

But he doesn’t have to wait much to get a reaction out of you, your mind twirling a thousand possibilities in your head as to why the fuck your stuff are gone from your room.

Sae thinks it’s absolutely comical how the first things he hears out of your mouth are: “Sae, are you kicking me out? Where’d you send my stuff?”

Because in every single universe, that would be your first thought.

He doesn’t say a thing, only offering you a roll of his eyes and a sigh as he gestures with his hands for you to walk the other way.

So you do—slowly. You walk towards him, furrowed brows and eyes searching his expression for answers which, unfortunately, do not give anything away because he’s annoying like that.

Fifteen agonising seconds (for Sae) later, you open his bedroom door to find your “missing” items.

The books you’re reading are on one side of the nightstand, your clothes that you’d haphazardly collected on a pile on your chair are in a similar arrangement on the other side of the room where the study desk stands, and even your beloved Santa doll is situated on one side of the king-sized bed, sitting atop the pillow.

Turning around to face Sae again, you suddenly feel the guilt wash over you. While you were thinking that he’d go out and meet his old flame, he probably spent the whole time carefully moving everything over.

To his bedroom.

It takes you a while to really connect the dots.

Sae, on the other hand, is too impatient to wait for you to speak, your mouth slightly open and looking like a total idiot. For once, the expression you see on his face isn’t completely stoic. There’s a lilt in his eyes, and a hint of a smirk tugging on his lips.

“Okay, you figure out where the fuck your room is, and I’ll sit here and wait for you,” he tells you, the playful sarcasm dripping from his lips, his inviting subtle chuckle sounding like the signal of forever.

He sits down on the couch, idly flipping through the channels while you enter the bedroom further and take your time looking around. And by that, you mean to make sure you’re not dreaming.

You slap your face a couple times, you open the cupboard to ascertain your clothes are there, you peek into the bathroom to find that Sae is unexpectedly kind of corny because you find matching his and hers sets of toiletries.

A few minutes later, you find yourself at the doorway, Sae looking at you expectantly, brows raised. “Yes, wife?”

Now he thinks you’re kind of pathetic because he can see your face light up from just a little call of your title. But Sae thinks he might like that look on you. Maybe a little too much than he’s comfortable with.

Your excited grin dissolves into a sheepish one. “That sounds kinda corny.”

Sae shrugs, getting up off the couch, “guess that’s the last time I’ll call you that then—” But he doesn’t get to finish his sentence because you slap your hand across his mouth, and Sae can almost laugh at how different you are from the first time he saw you. Still as pretty, just a little less reserved, a little more happy.

“I take that back,” you tell him, giggling and skipping away to the kitchen, not giving him any time for a rebuttal. “What do you feel like tonight? Fish?”

He follows you, looking over your shoulder as you get the food ready. “Anything, as long as you’re cooking,” Sae says, as if it’s normal that he says shit like that and it takes everything in you not to make too big a deal out of anything he says. “Oh, I’m going out drinking with the guys later by the way, so you can get to bed first.”

Yeah, as if you can get to bed when you’re that happy and excited. Later that night you just end up tossing and turning in bed, grinning yourself silly. And who can blame you? It’s the first proper time that Sae is solidifying that he’s had a change of heart. Even if it’s in spite of all your uncertainties. To which Reo had told you to try talking to him and asking him about it because he’s your husband and you really shouldn’t have to be afraid of talking about the difficult stuff when you have to be with him forever.

Reo’s right, you know that. But you’ll hold off on it. Only because you don’t want to possibly ruin this right after it barely started. It’s foolish, but you really don’t want to go back to square one.

Even if it’s the right thing to do.

That night, Sae gets home only after three, to which he finds you peacefully sleeping on your side of the bed, phone still with its screen lit up. You must’ve been scrolling through it before you passed out.

If he was sober, maybe he would’ve allowed himself to think that this gesture of his was just a whim, that it was a moment of weakness. That you don’t really mean all that much to him. After all, how could you, when he just met you not long ago?

But he finds himself treading carefully, and he finds himself moving quietly, all in the name of not disturbing your sleep. And maybe he can’t convince himself you don’t mean that much to him anymore.

While he gently settles himself on the other side of the bed, your phone buzzes and Sae looks over, your text chat with Reo left open on your screen. The slept already? weak. message he just sent you would’ve been left at that by Sae, except he sees one message at the top, a night, stupid. call me if you need anything.

And so maybe he feels more for you than he thinks. Because there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that message especially because Reo’s your best friend but Sae’s stupid in relationships and he scrolls a little bit upwards and sees the previous message from Reo.

maybe i should marry you instead, sae who 😇

It’s irrational how much it can bother him. Even if it’s dated over a month ago.

When you wake up the next morning, you find yourself pressed up against Sae, his head atop of yours, his arms wrapped around your waist. His breathing’s slow and steady and he’s definitely not up for work, it looks like. And neither are you, because this moment feels precious and you’re not sure what spurred that on, to hug you to sleep out of nowhere, maybe it’s the alcohol, but whatever it is, you’re thankful for it.

At times like this, you’re grateful for the fact that your parents own the company. They’ll be fine if their daughter ditches a day of work. Especially since this was what they wanted from the start—for the marriage to work.

ok, i’ll pick you up later. see you, stupid.

“Someone’s in a good mood.”

Frantically, you try to suppress your grin and lock your phone screen, but it doesn’t escape her—your reason for being happy.

“Meeting your husband for dinner tonight?” Sumi asks, looking like she’s been bored out of her mind for the past half hour anyway.

Deciding it’s pointless to act coy, you nod. “Managed to convince him to cook with me so we’re just gonna stop by the market later.”

“Wow, look at you guys,” she cajoles, nudging you playfully on the elbow. “You know, the first few weeks of your marriage you looked absolutely miserable, I was beginning to wonder if he was abusing you or something.”

You laugh awkwardly, because you can’t blame her for that. For the first few weeks you’d been spacing out at work, going home looking so downtrodden, and then going back to work looking like a zombie. It’s not that much of a stretch for Sumi to think so.

“If he ever treats you like shit, you tell me, okay?” Sumi tells you, looking as fierce as she can muster. Which is funny because she’s a small petite-sized girl, not any older than you and has such pretty brown doe eyes that it’s almost more adorable than angry. “I’ll beat the shit out of him.”

Later on, when Sae waits for you in his car at the lobby, Sumi follows you, curious to see what your husband even looks like because she wasn’t invited to your wedding despite your adamant requests to your parents to include her. Lucky for you, she’s understanding enough.

“Hey, from here your husband looks kinda handsome,” she whispers to you, trying to make out what he really looks like from behind the tinted windows, but it’s hard to see especially when Sae has his shades on. Still, Sumi tries to wear her cynical face, “but a husband who doesn’t even open the door for his wife? What a—”

As if sensing her cynicism, Sae hops out of his car at that moment, black Burberry wool coat shielding him from the cold. He looks straight out of a magazine that you can’t even blame Sumi for gaping as he walks over.

“Hey, ready to go?” He asks you, ignoring Sumi at the side who’s completely gone mute.

“Yeah let’s go,” you tell him, internally laughing at how meek Sumi turns, reminding yourself to make fun of her tomorrow for it until your mind goes completely blank as Sae plants a kiss on your cheek.

You’ve been able to process when his affections go on in private, or around strangers who barely pay any attention, but when he kisses you in front of your friend, you’re half-embarrassed and half-flattered.

Sae puts his hand on the small of your back, starting to guide you to the passenger seat before he turns back to look at Sumi. “Do you need a ride too?”

Sumi hurriedly waves both her hands, shaking her head. “No no, it’s fine I wouldn’t want to interrupt your date,” she tells him, and you snicker. She’s being a whole lot more polite than you’re used to her being but you suppose it’s not weird for people to be intimidated by Sae.

He nods curtly in acknowledgement before he goes around to the driver’s seat, Sumi mouthing a ‘have fun’ as she winks at you.

That’s exactly what you plan to do—you and Sae being at the grocery store together makes you feel like everyday life with Sae, even if it’s doing something simple like this, it really won’t be so bad. His initial cold shoulder and semi-hostile nature has completely gone, and he’s been initiating a lot of things too that you wouldn’t feel right doubting him too much over whatever you might’ve seen back in Korea. Or maybe it’s just your aversion to confrontation that’s speaking.

Either way, you decide to shove it to the back of your mind for the future you to deal with.

A flick to your forehead brings you back to Sae, his deadpan face unamused as he finishes the self-checkout.

“What’re you daydreaming about?”

With a cheeky grin, you shake your head. “Nothingggg.”

Sae clicks his tongue, brushing his card against the reader and doesn’t even wait for the receipt before he’s pushing the trolley full of dinner out to the car. “Mm, must be about me then.”

You feel the heat creep up to your cheeks, pouting as he raises a brow at you, taunting you to deny him. But you don’t, because you’re honest to a fault and Sae knows that.

He suppresses a grin, looking smug as he loads the food onto the trunk, earning a smack on his arms from you.

The ride back to the apartment is so different from the first that you can barely believe it. Sae’s cursing out everyone he had to deal with at work today and you know he’s only doing it because he’s comfortable with you now and it warms your heart. Compared to the first time where he barely spoke to you or even deigned to look at you, you’re impossibly happy right now, your playlist blasting over the speakers while Sae entertains your questions about his day.

“If you hate it so much, why’d you agree to take over the business then?” You ask, though quietly, because you’re not sure if it’s too sensitive of a question.

Sae goes silent for a second, like he’s considering whether he wants to tell you. “There was something else I wanted to do.”

He’s not really answering you, but he’s trying to give you something, and that’s all you really need.

“What was it?”

By instinct, he drives slower whenever he’s thinking. His hand on the joystick tenses up a little, gripping it slightly tighter before he ultimately releases it and shakes his head. He looks in your direction before looking back to the road ahead.

“I’ll tell you next time, okay?”

If he isn’t ready to share, then you’re not willing to press him either.

“Okay.”

By the time you reach home, the atmosphere between you and Sae has dissolved to normal, and you’re all for a wonderful date night in, happily thinking how you should torture Sae by giving him some insanely difficult tasks just to see how he would handle it—until you realise the world loves giving you bad surprises.

The moment you open the front door, your laughter dissipates, replaced by a perplexed smile as you notice the two guests sitting in the living room.

“Darling, there you are!”

Your mother bursts forward to hug you while your father remains expressionless, standing in the bright living room, black suit a stark contrast against the white walls.

Behind you, Sae sticks close, whispering an are you okay? in your ear, waiting for your nod before he relegates to the kitchen to put down the groceries.

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind, we had a copy of the key since we were helping to furnish the place for you both and we just missed our baby so much that we wanted to drop by,” your mother announces, and you already want to gag from the amount of bullshit you hear.

This is definitely not normal parenting.

“Would you like some tea?”

From the kitchen, you can already hear Sae brewing something. You want to help him, but your mind goes numb, drawing a blank. It’s never good news whenever you see your parents. Their care has always been a ruse for some other agenda, and you don’t know if you want to know what they’re really here for.

Questions fill your mind. Questions like why must they come at such a time? or why are they here at all? and then comes the feeling of impending doom all because that since you’ve been young, you’d only ever been taught that your parents’ will are absolute and that you’d rather die than have to disobey and suffer the consequences.

But a warm hand on yours begs to differ. Before then, you didn’t even realise you were trembling.

“You sure you’re okay?” Sae’s right there, beside you, already made sure your parents are distracted by the tea. Calloused fingers intertwined with yours, a gentle squeeze—one, two, three times—to get you to calm down.

“Yeah, I’m fine, really.”

“Sure you don’t wanna just tell ‘em to go?”

“I can’t.”

Two simple words and Sae doesn’t ask any more. There’s a certain kind of comfort to know that he’s here with you, that he’s someone like you, that he knows what you’re going through and out of everyone, he would understand. Two older siblings who unfortunately have to obey their parents’ every wish for probably different reasons and yet suffer in the same way anyway.

“Let’s go,” he tells you, gently dragging you by the pinky. “I’ll take your side whatever it is, so don’t worry so much. We’ll get them out of here in no time.”

Sae makes it sound so easy he makes you nearly believe it. But you of all people know your parents are anything but easy.

About five minutes into small talk (and by that you mean that they’re skirting around, asking about all the pictures hung up in the house, asking why you two still looked kind of awkward when your pictures show otherwise, and last but not least a very awkward question your mum threw about asking for a grandson to which Sae had choked on his tea), your father wastes no more time trying to get to the point.

“So, Sae, how’s our daughter treating you?”

Caught off guard by the question, Sae clears his throat, picking his words wisely. “She’s perfect, sir. Why do you ask?”

Internally, you’re grateful he’s being more polite than he usually cares to be. Can he feel you stressing out beside him?

“Nothing, just curious.” Your father throws you a dirty stare before focusing his attention back on Sae. “So nothing’s been off, then? Everything’s all good?”

Sae’s just as confused as you are, but he keeps his cool, nodding. “Everything’s great. We were actually having a date night in before, well, we saw the both of you here.”

Your father doesn’t say anything much after that. Your mother does most of the talking, but you know this is all just part of their plan. That’s what they always do. Your father is the one who’s straight to business, doesn’t waste his time or energy speaking in some roundabout manner. But he’s not a businessman for nothing—you can’t get anywhere without establishing a connection, and that’s always where your mother comes in. She’s always charming to people who aren’t aware of the inner workings in your family. That’s why you’re immune to it. And after hearing so many negative things surrounding your parents, it looks like Sae is as well.

The next ten, twenty minutes are carried by your mother, talking about anything and everything in the world. Sae talks more so you don’t have to.

“It’s fine, you can pick that up, we’ll have some alone time with our daughter,” your father says after noticing that Sae’s phone has been vibrating for a while now. There’s a pattern—his phone vibrates, Sae silences it, it starts vibrating again. Like the caller either has some emergency or they know nothing about personal space.

Sae’s about to reject again when you put your hand over his, squeezing it in the same way he did. “It’s fine, just go.” And come back soon because I don’t want to be left alone with them for too long—you try to telepathically implant that thought in his head, anxiety gripping tightly onto you.

It’s not like he wants to leave you defenceless, either. He of all people know what toxic parents are like and yours are class A vultures. But he’ll get this call out of the way and then switch his phone off and help you get out of whatever this is.

But then he sees the caller ID and he stills for a minute before picking it up. “Mirin?”

Over the phone, he can hear her muffled voice, saying his name and then a string of words he can’t understand.

“Hey slow down, what’s wrong?”

Mirin’s just sniffling now, and maybe it’s because of all the years of friendship and relationship they had that she can still tug on Sae’s heartstring.

“Remember that you said you’d be there for me if I needed you?” She asks, half sobbing in between. Sae doesn’t know what to answer her, so he keeps quiet. “I really really need you right now.”

Sae hesitates a little. “How bad is it? Can it wait because—”

Mirin’s sobbing gets even louder. “No, please, I just… I really need you here, Sae.”

Maybe it’s because he rarely ever heard her cry like this. Or maybe it’s because of how it’s different when there’s someone crying and begging for him that the words just slip out of his mouth before he realises it.

“Okay, okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Wait for me, yeah?”

Out in the dining room, you’re drumming your fingers nervously on your thighs, shrinking under the heat of your father’s gaze.

“So, have you been behaving, Y/N?” It’s your father speaking, and he’s as relentless as ever. The moment Sae is out of earshot, he’s back to his authoritative tone, the one that he used to ring terror on you and your little sister as children. The one he still uses to this day to assert his authority over you. To remind you that you’re being seen as his properties, that you’re just a cog in the machine that runs for him.

Even if you’re not sure what he’s referring to, you nod anyway. You haven’t done anything wrong.

Somehow, you feel like nothing you do can appease him, because the next moment, he’s heaving a deep sigh, getting up and sitting himself in Sae’s seat, flipping his iPad open and scrolling through something on the screen.

What he shows you next makes your heart sink to your ass.

It’s a picture of when you met Reo last, before you went to Korea, when you were confiding in him about Mirin. There’s nothing wrong with meeting him, you know that. In fact, your parents keep a good relationship with his for a reason. They just never pushed you to marry Reo because there are bigger fish; namely, the Itoshis. But what’s wrong with it is the angle from which it was taken; it’s from behind Reo, and the way he’s leaning forward and your eyes happen to be closed, it looks like you’re kissing him.

You can tell your father a thousand times that that’s not what’s going on and that the angle is misleading, but you know that’s not what he’s nitpicking about. It’s about how you carry yourself, you can recall from those lessons he tried to instil in you as a child. It’s about not giving anyone else anything to say anything about.

“We were just having—”

“I don’t care, Y/N,” your father sighs, rubbing his temples, entirely frustrated for god knows what reason. “I don’t care if you want to be a fucking tramp and fool around with someone else when you’re already married. But if you do so, you better make fucking sure no one sees you.”

There must be an art to how he can say words so cruel, filled with toxin and yet his face remains so straight. There must also be an art on how to not give two fucks because your mother’s in her original seat, sipping on her tea as though this is a normal evening as any.

“Dad, I’m not doing anything wrong with—”

“Do you know how hard it was for us to convince the Itoshis that you’d make an excellent wife?” He cuts you off once again, spitting words that could break your bones. “And here you are, flaunting around town with that Mikage boy.”

Is it bad to say you’ve lost all will to fight when you realise your parents don’t care one bit if you’re in the right or wrong? You want to ask how they managed to get such a picture too, but you doubt they’d entertain anything from you right now.

“You know, we thought you were finally useful after all this time,” your father ponders out loud, eyes fixed on the marble tabletop instead of at his own daughter. “But here you go again, making a mess of everything.”

You’re about to speak, but this time it’s your mother that cuts you off.

“Honey, I don’t think you realise the gravity of the situation,” she says, her voice silky smooth and calm even though what she’s saying is quite the opposite. “This marriage marked a wonderful partnership with the Itoshi company, the merger is almost finished and we don’t want you to ruin it all by wasting your time with some second-rate boy.”

That must be the first time you feel the anger bubbling up and threatening to burst where all other times you’d feel scared. To call Reo second-rate is uncalled for, and your fist clenches, ready to argue, when you hear your father chuckling beside you.

“Looks like this girl can’t control her temper either,” he says, as though you aren’t even here. “That Mikage boy aside, looks like our poor girl here can’t even control her finances.”

“What?”

By now you’re more than just a little confused. You’re used to them having a say in everything when you still lived with them. But now that you’ve already moved out, you’re already used to the freedom that came with not having to worry about them criticising your every move. Turns out, that was premature. Even after moving out, they still make sure to keep track of every single thing.

“Tell me why there’s barely any money left in your account,” your father demands, tone lacking any sort of sympathy and choosing to go full on accusatory. “Did you just go insane and spend it all? Did we bring you up to be a spoiled brat, is that it?”

There’s a dagger to your heart with every single syllable. Finally coming to terms with the fact that your parents never loved you nor cared about your wellbeing hits harder than you expected. They didn’t miss their daughter nor did they care about her happiness in the marriage. It was only ever about them them them.

“I didn’t—”

“Honestly, after all this time you still haven’t learned to control yourself. First it’s with Mikage and now it’s with money—”

“I’m afraid that was my doing, actually.” Sae cuts your father off, stepping in for you, reappearing at the kitchen doorway. His teal eyes are cold, staring straight at your father. “I told her to move it to a joint account since we’ll be sharing finances.”

Your father narrows his gaze, shifting his attention to your husband, your hands shaking under the table. Why does it feel like some bad confrontation is going to happen? One thing’s for sure: your father doesn’t like that rebellious tone of his.

“And what makes you think you qualify for that? What if you try to swindle my dearest daughter out of all her money? As her father I’m sure you can understand why I have my concerns.”

For the most part, it looks like Sae is unfazed, and why wouldn’t he be? From what you gather, it doesn’t look like he’s had such an easy childhood either.

“Then as her father, I’m pretty sure you’d want the best for your daughter, right?” Sae asks, more taunting than anything. “She’s chosen to put her trust in me, so I’m handling it. She doesn’t have to worry. Sounds like a good deal, no?”

Sensing the defiance oozing out of Sae, your father goes back to his favourite target: you.

“Is that right? You trust your husband over your father’s words now?”

The threat in his eyes is real. They’re daring you to go against him, like they just know you’re way too scared to. But then you catch the pair of eyes behind him—the teal ones that look at you gentler than they’ve ever been—and suddenly, it doesn’t seem so scary.

A single nod of affirmation from Sae is enough to give you that pump of courage that you need.

“I trust Sae a hundred percent,” is all you say, deciding that’s enough to get your point across.

But maybe you’d been obedient a little too long, and you’d been spared from how harsh your father could be for too many seasons that you didn’t see it coming. You’d forgotten how cruel he can be, both mentally and physically.

With his hand raised, you watch it go up the same angle like it always did back then, and you’re reminded now of just how much force is behind one of his slaps. You remember the way your little sister cried as she hugged her teddy bear, watching you take the blame for her mistakes and bearing the brunt of your father’s anger. Your eyes squeeze shut, the fear taking over.

You wait for it to land, but it doesn’t.

When your eyes open, Sae’s there, his hand around your father’s wrist, a vein appearing on his forehead as he stares him down.

“You may be her father, but I’ll have to tell you this: don’t you dare hit my wife.” Sae’s more menacing than you thought he could be. His knuckles are white, your father feeling the force before yanking his own hand away.

As always, he’ll look at you with all the hatred he can muster, unwilling to back down. “You ungrateful little bitch—” His words still hurt, but you catch sight of the pot of tea he’s thrusting towards you and you squeal, instinctively cowering backwards. Either way, either the scalding hot tea or the porcelain with which it’s made is going to hit you.

But once again, you’re proven right to trust Sae, because he’s in front of you in a heartbeat, shielding your body from any harm, letting the pot hit the floor, breaking into countless little pieces, some tea splattering onto your arm and you can’t even imagine how badly Sae got hit.

Still, he doesn’t wince even a little bit. He’s still staring at your father, but with his back facing you, you can’t really see him.

“Mr L/N, this is the last time I’m going to tell you nicely. If you dare to hurt Y/N again, I’ll personally stop the dealings myself.”

Your father bursts out laughing at Sae’s declaration, as if he doesn’t believe that Sae has that sort of authority. In all honesty, you’re not sure if he has. But you appreciate the thought. You’re still a little shaken up, eyeing all the little sharp pieces of glass all around the floor.

“Honey.” Your mother’s voice is soft but firm, and she’s only glaring at your father. It’s a look that tells him he needs to back off. It’s a warning, only because she’s his only anchor. She doesn’t care about any of this that’s going on, only at the fact that offending Sae might put their relationship with the Itoshis at risk.

Clicking his tongue, your father rolls his eyes and gets up and you can’t even wish for him to accidentally step on a piece of glass because he’s wearing his shoes in the house. Always prepared.

“Suit yourself,” is his last parting words before he strolls out of the apartment, banging the door shut behind him and leaving you two to the mess.

The first thing you do after they leave is get up and make sure Sae’s okay—although you’re quick to realise he’s not, because his pants are soaked with the tea and there are cuts on his feet and ankles, none too deep but they are still the result of your father’s temper and you feel only guilt. He got into this shit because he was trying to defend you.

But you find out that you’re always underestimating Sae when you feel his strong grip around your arm, preventing you from moving even more.

“Hey, careful, you’ll get hurt,” he tells you, harshly but only because he cares.

You manage a weak smile, “says the one who’s already hurt.”

Sae chuckles, ruffling your hair. “It’s fine, just some small cuts. But you really weren’t lying about your parents. Real piece of work.”

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you are sitting on the couch, Sae letting you tend to his wounds. You have the first aid kit out, and the mess in the dining room is long gone, both you and Sae’s date night ruined because of it.

“Sorry about him. He’s… always been like that.”

There’s a sombre mood in the air, but Sae sighs and flicks you on the forehead. “It’s not your fault, don’t apologise.”

You smile at him, a quiet understanding falling into place. You don’t need to explain your father’s temper and Sae doesn’t need your apologies.

“For what it’s worth, thank you.”

Sae nods, though he feels there’s nothing to thank him for. It may have taken him a while, but he’s figuring this out slowly. If anything, he’s sorry it’s taking him so long. It’s just that since the longest time, there was only one person he’d thought of marrying and now… there’s you.

Your hand reaches out to his feet, dabbing alcohol lightly on the cuts, and Sae doesn’t even flinch. You slowly reach the cuts on his ankle until you freeze.

“It won’t hurt so don’t worry,” Sae tells you, as if you’re the one that needs consoling.

You furrow your brows, unsure, though you heed his words and dab on it lightly. There’s a big scar lining his ankles, and now that he’s changed out into his shorts, you see a similar one lining his knees. All on the right side.

“You can ask if you want to.”

Trust it to Sae to figure out what’s going on in your head.

“How did you get it?”

Sae smiles, but it’s filled with more melancholy than mirth. His eyes seem like they’re gazing into thin air. “Your father seems to use his own physicality when he’s unhappy with something,” Sae ponders, eyes focusing back on your face. “Mine tends to leave me alone. Until I leave him with no other choice but to hire other people to do the hurting.”

You listen to him as you tend to all the cuts, trying to be gentler with the red on his skin, burned slightly from the tea.

“I told you I wanted to do something else right?”

You nod.

“I was dead set on a soccer career instead of taking over the business.”

“You mean, like Rin is now?”

Sae nods. “Yep. Exactly like Rin. Taught that little guy everything he knew.” He chuckles a little, and you can see how fond he is of his little brother, even if he doesn’t express it all that much. “But once they found out both of us wanted nothing to do with their business, that’s when things got ugly. I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say they have a certain vision that they wanted me to uphold, and this—” he gestures to the scars on his leg—“was a warning of what would happen to Rin if I refused.”

As an older sibling yourself, you guess you can understand why Sae quit. But going so far as to hurt your own children like that—both your father and his seem to be assholes in their own rights.

“Can you still play at all?” You ask, out of genuine curiosity.

Sae sighs, pondering. “Yeah, but I get tackled once and that’s probably it for me,” he says, trying to lighten the mood with a laugh. “Why? Wanna watch me play that bad?”

You grin. “Depends, is my dear husband gonna let me?”

Sae’s brows raise in surprise. “Oh, someone’s getting comfortable,” he points out, and you can’t stop grinning, earning a shake of his head. “Maybe next time, stupid. We still got dinner.”

“Okay since you’re hurt, I’m gonna cook, okay?”

“I got a few cuts, I’m not a cripple.”

“La la la can’t hear you,” you hum, winking at him before skipping over to the kitchen, intent on saving date night by at least cooking a decent dinner.

Back at the couch, Sae suppresses a smile as he looks at you, and he wonders what is it about you that he can’t shake off, that he can’t help but let in. He tilts his head in wonder; maybe it’s your adamant nature. In how you’re always nice no matter how much of an asshole he is.

After seeing what your father is like, he feels the guilt building up from the back of his head. If that’s what you had to endure everyday as a child, he doesn’t find your demeanour now to be all that weird.

Before he can even think of anything else, he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket.

Fuck, it’s Mirin. It’s Mirin who he’d promised to go find because whatever it is she’s going through, it sounds like a lot and she’s sobbing her guts out, apparently. And now he doesn’t know what the fuck to do.

“Do you want spicy or garlicky?”

It’s something so small, so tiny—just your voice from the kitchen, the clanging of pans as you hurry to cook a dish for him, and the fact that he knows you’d let him go if he told you he has somewhere to be.

Just like that, the answer isn’t so complicated anymore.

He rejects the call and opens up her message thread, typing in a won’t make it tonight, sorry before he switches off his phone.

“Mmm, garlicky,” he says the moment he reaches you, standing behind you as he watches you mix the sauce together.

You bring a spoonful up to your lips, tasting it. “Think it needs some salt, what about you?” You ask, offering him the small concoction in your saucer pan.

But Sae doesn’t take it, instead he leans forward and presses his lips against yours, his tongue savouring every single inch of you he can taste, his hand on your waist, pulling you close.

When he pulls away, you can’t help but stare at him blankly, in a daze because is this really happening? Sae can tell what’s going on in your head, but he throws you a bone by not teasing you about it.

“I think it’s perfect.”

By the next time you see Sumi in the office, she can sense the radiant glow from your face, hurriedly rushing over to your desk.

“Wow, I take it date night went well?”

You nod, not being able to contain your surprise. “Very well.”

Sumi asks for the details, and you divulge, since at this point, Sumi’s the one you trust the most. Even if she’s a little loud most of the time, you’re sure that you can call her a good friend.

“I’m so jealous, your marriage sounds like a dream,” she gushes while the two of you are having lunch.

You hesitate a little, the mention of it makes you think back to the Mirin issue. So far, you haven’t seen anything else that are any red flags, so at least that’s a step in the right direction… right?

“Uh oh, I know that look, tell me!”

So you give her the bare minimum, about how Sae had an ex-girlfriend who he seemingly can’t get over, about her calling him during the honeymoon and your little stalking spree. Sumi immediately does the same, typing in her phone before scrolling through her posts, unimpressed.

“She looks like she’s trouble,” Sumi remarks offhandedly, thumb pressing on the story that she apparently just uploaded five minutes ago and you completely freeze up. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

Her story seems completely innocent until you realise you can tell exactly where she is: in your own house, at your own kitchen, taking a picture where Sae’s hand is barely visible, no doubt in a bid to make it seem mysterious.

“She’s in my fucking house.”

taglist: @kimvmarvel @mxplesyrvp @yuzurins @futuristicxie @kiopanxp @k0z3me @y-sabell-a @sae1toshilover @xoxojisu @karmatiz @sagejin @minnieminnie00-got7 @hearts4heidi @shiinobu-x @n1uh @prepchuu @leeyzhuo @shidouryusm @tsukishiro-yue2402 @kaiserkisser @pookiebearcave @dcvilxswish @saeskiss @whtflrr @arminseas @raphsimp @saharei @danibxe @lectris00 @comet-kun @ishitam67 @gskill @sweet2wthsblog @astruoise @scaraslover @beaniedoodz @bersuadikotatua @idk-bro-gay @etoiile @sanzu-sanzu-sanzu @yourstrulyharu **bolded: means i can’t tag you guys because of your settings >_<

412 notes · View notes

earthtoharlow · 14 days ago

Text

HIT THE LIGHTS

3rd installment of the Flashing Lights series, must read Flashing Lights & Don’t Like The Lights first to understand

Series Masterlist

2. POV

Jack was back home from another quick trip to New York. He’d just wrapped up filming a music video for a freestyle he’d been working on, and he couldn’t wait to share it with Maryse.

As soon as he walked through the door, he kissed her hello and dragged her to their living room, eager to play the track.

“I’ve been dying for you to hear this,” he said, grinning as he set up the speakers. “It’s called Tranquility.”

She smiled back, loving how excited he was. “I can’t wait,” she said, settling onto the couch.

Maryse nodded along as the beat dropped, always loving when he worked with Hollywood Cole. The first couple lyrics hit her like a brick.

“Twenty-five hundred plus a couple utilities

Fuck it, I’ll pay it just to keep the tranquility

Fuck it, I love ya, I’ll do anything for you

’Cept settle down with you.”

Maryse’s chest tightened, and the words echoed in her head, pulling her mind back to the comments she’d overheard in the bathroom and the questions during her interview. It was like a cruel confirmation of everything she’d tried to push out of her thoughts.

Still, she managed to keep her face composed, smiling faintly as the song finished.

“So?” Jack asked, leaning forward with hopeful eyes. “What do you think?”

“It’s great,” she said quickly, her voice betraying no hint of the turmoil inside her. Before he could press her further, she stood up. “I’ll be right back. I just need to use the restroom.”

She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, her breath shaky. Her reflection in the mirror looked just as rattled as she felt. She pressed her palms against the sink, willing herself not to cry.

“It’s just a song,” she thought, but the ache in her chest wouldn’t go away. She couldn’t shake the sting of hearing those words come from the man she loved.

Maryse took another deep breath to steady her thoughts. She knew, deep down, that Jack’s lyrics often came from a mix of past experiences, storytelling, and pure creative expression. The line could very well be about someone else.

But even knowing that, the sting lingered.

It wasn’t just the lyric—it was the timing. After everything that had happened—the women in the bathroom, the invasive interview questions, and the doubts swirling in her own mind—it felt too personal, even if it wasn’t meant to be.

“You’re overthinking,” she told herself, gripping the edge of the sink. But the tears pricked at the corners of her eyes anyway.

She hadn’t told Jack about what happened. Not about the women’s cruel comments. Not about how much it had rattled her during the interview. Not about how much she hated feeling weak.

And now, she couldn’t help but feel like the universe was pushing her to confront it all. But where would she even begin? Would it sound like she was pressuring him? Would he understand how much it hurt?

She closed her eyes and sighed, wiping at her cheeks before any tears could fall. “He loves me,” she reminded herself. “That’s what matters.”

Maryse walked out of the bathroom, she froze at the sight of Jack leaning casually against the wall, his arms crossed. But his expression wasn’t casual—it was soft, concerned.

“Hey,” he said gently, pushing off the wall. “What’s wrong?”

She hesitated, the weight of everything threatening to spill over. Before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out.

“You can’t release that song.”

Jack blinked, clearly taken aback. For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. Then he gave her a small, nervous smile. “Wait… is it that bad?” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“No, it’s not bad,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “It’s amazing. That’s not the point.”

His smile faded, and he studied her face carefully. “Then what is the point?”

She looked down, fidgeting with the promise ring on her finger, debating how much to say. “It’s just… that one line. You know the one I mean.”

Jack’s eyebrows furrowed. He thought back to the song, replaying the lyrics in his head. Then it clicked.

“‘Except settle down with you,’” he said slowly, his tone cautious.

Maryse nodded, unable to meet his eyes.

“Baby, it’s just a line,” he said softly, stepping closer. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“But it does,” she whispered, finally looking up at him. “At least, it does to me. Especially after the interview. And the bathroom thing…”

“What bathroom thing?” he interrupted, his concern deepening.

She bit her lip, realizing she’d just revealed more than she intended. “It’s not important.”

“It clearly is,” he said firmly. “Talk to me, M.”

She hesitated again, but the worry in his eyes broke down her walls. Taking a shaky breath, she told him everything—the women in the bathroom, the cruel things they said, the way it had haunted her during the interview, and how that lyric felt like salt in the wound.

When she was done, Jack looked stunned. He reached out, cupping her face in his hands. “Baby, I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I didn’t want to seem like I was pressuring you,” she admitted. “Or like I was weak, letting what they said get to me.”

“First of all, you’re not weak,” he said firmly. “You’re the strongest person I know. And second… I hate that they made you feel like that. I hate that I made you feel like that, even by accident.”

Her eyes filled with tears again, but this time they were tears of relief.

Jack pulls her into a tight hug resting his chin on her head. Maryse let herself sink into his arms, feeling his steady heartbeat against her cheek. For a moment, the weight of her emotions felt lighter, but it wasn’t enough to quiet the nagging thought in her mind.

As she stood there, she finally asked, her voice muffled against his chest, “So… are you just not going to drop the song?”

He paused, his grip loosening slightly. Pulling back to look at her, his expression was soft but firm. “I’m still going to drop it,” he said gently. “It’s already set for release, and the video’s done.”

She stepped back, her arms crossing tightly over her chest as she processed his words. “So, you’re still going to drop it,” she said, her voice edged with hurt.

Jack sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s already set. The video’s done, the release date locked in. It’s not as easy as just pulling it back now.”

Her brows furrowed, her voice trembling. “I’m telling you how it made me feel, and you’re still okay with putting it out there? After everything I’ve been dealing with?”

“It’s not about us,” he said, trying to explain, though his tone carried a hint of frustration. “That line isn’t about you or our life. It’s just a song.”

“But I’m your partner, the mother of your kids!” she shot back, her voice rising slightly. “Shouldn’t my feelings matter more than a release schedule?”

“Of course, they matter,” he said quickly, stepping closer to her. “But you know how this works. This isn’t personal, it’s business. I’m not trying to hurt you, but I can’t just stop everything because of how it might be interpreted.”

She shook her head, taking a step back. “It’s not just how it might be interpreted, it’s how it feels. And right now, it feels like you’re choosing this song over me.”

“That’s not fair,” he said softly, his tone now more pleading than defensive.

“Neither is you knowing how much it hurts me and still deciding to go through with it,” she said, tears brimming in her eyes. “I know it’s just a song to you, but to me, it’s a reminder of everything people have been saying about us—and about me.”

Jack’s jaw tightened as he watched her wipe away her tears. “You’re acting like I’m doing this to hurt you,” he said, his voice tinged with defensiveness. “But I don’t tell you not to release songs that make me look bad.”

Maryse turned to face him, her eyes narrowing. “When have I ever released a song that makes you look bad?”

He threw up his hands. “I’m just saying, you’ve written stuff about your past relationships, your struggles, and I’ve never once told you not to. I’ve always supported your art, no matter how it might make me feel.”

“That’s different,” she shot back, her voice rising. “I’ve never put out a song that could make people think I don’t care about you—or us.”

“And I’m telling you, that’s not what this song is,” he said firmly, his tone growing sharper. “It’s not about you. It’s just a line, a piece of the bigger story. Why can’t you see that?”

She shook her head, her frustration spilling over. “Because it doesn’t matter what it’s about to you—it’s about how it makes me feel. And right now, it feels like I’m standing here telling you I’m hurt, and you don’t care.”

“That’s not true,” he said quickly, his voice softening. “You know I care about you more than anything. But I’ve worked hard on this, and I can’t just scrap it. You wouldn’t want me to ask you to do that with your music, would you?”

She blinked back fresh tears, her voice trembling. “I wouldn’t put you in this position, though. I wouldn’t write something that could hurt you like this.”

Jack stepped closer, reaching for her again, but Maryse took a step back. “I’m going for a drive,” she said quietly, squeezing past him to leave the room.

As she turned to leave, Jack’s voice stopped her in her tracks. “Yeah, go ahead,” he said, his tone sharp and laced with frustration. “Leaving like you always do when things get tough.”

Maryse froze, her back to him, his words slicing through the air like a dagger. Slowly, she turned her head to look at him in disbelief.

“Are you serious right now?” she asked, her voice barely steady.

He shrugged, leaning back against the wall, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “I’m just saying, it’s easier to walk away than actually talk about it, isn’t it?”

Her jaw tightened as she fought to keep her composure. “You know what? Maybe I’m walking away because I need to think before I say something I’ll regret,” she shot back.

“Well, let me know when you’re done thinking,” he said coldly, turning away from her.

Maryse didn’t respond, the lump in her throat making it impossible to speak. Instead, she walked out, letting the door close softly behind her, the silence in its wake feeling heavier than anything they had said.

As the door clicked shut behind her, the house fell into an uneasy silence. Jack stood there for a moment, running a hand down his face, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. With a sigh, he pushed himself off the wall and made his way to the twins’ room.

He opened the door quietly, careful not to disturb their nap. The room was filled with the soft hum of the sound machine. London was curled up with her tiny fist resting against her cheek, and Noah’s chest rose and fell under his favorite blanket.

Jack leaned against the doorframe, letting the tension in his shoulders ease. This room had become his safe haven—a place where everything felt simple and pure. No arguments, no miscommunications, no outside noise. Just them.

He walked over to Noah’s crib, brushing a hand gently over his son’s curls before looking over at London. A small smile tugged at his lips despite the heaviness in his chest.

But as much peace as he felt here, the weight of his relationship with Maryse lingered. He loved her—there was no doubt about that. He would do anything for her and their family. Yet, sometimes, he felt like he had to constantly prove his loyalty, like he was being held to a standard he’d already exceeded. It was exhausting, frustrating even.

He knew dropping the song might make things worse, but his music was how he expressed himself. It wasn’t about her, not entirely, and he couldn’t keep walking on eggshells, trying to protect her from lyrics that weren’t meant to hurt.

With a deep breath, he sat down in the rocking chair between their cribs, resting his elbows on his knees.

He hated that she had overheard those women in the bathroom. The thought of her standing there, listening to them tear her down, made his chest ache. He hated it even more that some small part of her seemed to believe their words, even after everything they’d been through together.

He had spent years showing her how much she meant to him, in every way he knew how. And yet, the idea that she might still doubt him, even for a second, stung more than he cared to admit.

He looked over at Noah and London, their tiny faces so peaceful. This was what mattered most—this family. Not the outside noise, not the opinions of strangers who didn’t know the first thing about their love.

But how could he convince her of that when she carried those insecurities so deeply? And why did it feel like no matter what he did, it wasn’t enough to quiet those doubts?

A bitter thought crept into his mind: maybe she didn’t believe him because a part of her didn’t think she deserved it. He immediately shook his head, trying to push the thought away. He loved her, flaws and all, but moments like this made him feel like he was fighting a battle he couldn’t win.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t know how to fix this, but he knew one thing for sure—he hated that she was hurting, and he hated that anyone had the power to make her doubt their bond. He just wished she could see herself the way he saw her: as the love of his life and the mother of his children, someone irreplaceable.

As Jack left the twins’ room, his mind wandered back to the phone call he’d had with his mom a few days ago. She had asked him outright when he was going to marry Maryse, and at the time, he’d brushed it off, saying they were happy as they were. But now, standing in the quiet house, the weight of that question lingered.

This disagreement, the tension, the way they seemed to struggle to communicate when things got tough—it all made him think that maybe they weren’t ready for marriage yet. Sure, he loved her more than anything, but love wasn’t the only thing you needed to make a marriage work. Trust, communication, and being on the same page were just as important, and right now, those pieces felt shaky.

He hated the idea of rushing into something as big as marriage only to have it fall apart because they hadn’t figured out how to handle the rough patches. And if he was being honest, a part of him was scared—scared of the pressure, the expectations, and what it would mean if they failed.

Jack leaned against the kitchen counter, rubbing a hand over his face. He thought about how much he hated seeing her upset, how exhausting it could be to constantly feel like he had to prove himself, and how frustrating it was that she sometimes seemed to question their bond.

He loved Maryse, but this situation had him questioning whether they were truly ready for the next step. Maybe his mom was right to ask, but he wasn’t sure she’d like his answer if he told her what he was really thinking.

Still feeling unsettled, Jack grabbed his phone and called Urban, the one person he could vent to without fear of judgment. When his friend picked up, Jack immediately started talking, the frustration in his voice clear.

“Man, I don’t know what to do right now,” he began, pacing back and forth in the kitchen.

“She’s upset about this song, which, yeah, I get it, but now it’s like… I feel like no matter what I do, I’m always proving something. Like, why can’t she just trust that I’m here for her?”

Urban listened quietly before asking, “Did you talk to her about why the song hit a nerve? Or are you just assuming?”

Jack sighed. “She told me some women were talking trash in the bathroom at her meeting, basically saying she’s just a baby mama and that I’ll never marry her. And now she’s looking at me like I’m proving them right by dropping the song. But dude, that line? It’s not even about her. It’s just a bar! I write about experiences—past, present, all of it. And she knows that!”

“So, you’re saying the line isn’t about her, but… you can see why she might think it is, right?” Urban asked carefully.

“Yeah, I get it,” Jack admitted reluctantly. “But she knows me. She knows how I feel about her. And now I’m questioning everything. Like, are we even ready for marriage? Am I messing this up? It’s just… exhausting sometimes.”

“Look, dude,” Urban said, “you and Maryse? You’ve been through a lot. But it sounds like this isn’t just about the song. It’s about some bigger stuff that you two haven’t dealt with yet. Maybe instead of defending yourself, you just need to listen. Let her know you hear her. And then tell her where you’re at, too. Honestly.”

“You’re probably right,” Jack muttered.

“I usually am,” his friend teased. “But for real, talk to her. And maybe take a step back from all this ‘proving yourself’ stuff. You’re doing your best. She’s doing her best. Y’all just gotta meet in the middle.”

“Yeah,” Jack said, his voice quieter now. “You’ve become real smart since getting with Ava.”

Urban laughed, “I mean, I been trying to tell you—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack muttered, shaking his head. “You and your girl got it all figured out?”

Urban laughed again “Nah, we don’t have it all figured out, but we talk to each other—even when we know it might piss the other one off.”

Jack sighed, leaning back against the couch. “Yeah, well, that sounds real nice in theory.”

“It’s not just theory, bro. It’s work. But that’s how you build trust.”

He ran a hand down his face. He knew Urban was right, but it didn’t make things any easier.

***

When Maryse left the house she didn’t even bother getting in her car, deciding to just walk instead. She ended up at a nearby park, thankfully there wasn’t anyone around as she sat on the park bench.

Maryse grabbed her phone and called her two closest friends, Doja Cat and Saweetie. She knew they’d pick up without hesitation, and within minutes, the three of them were on a three-way call.

“What’s up, girl? You okay?” Doja asked immediately, concern in her voice.

“Yeah, you sound off,” Saweetie added. “Spill.”

Maryse sighed, curling up on the couch with a blanket. “It’s just… me and Jack. Things feel so different now. Ever since the twins came, I feel like our relationship has changed so much, and not always in a good way.”

“Changed how?” Doja asked.

“Well, for one,” Maryse began, “it feels like we’re always on different pages. Like, today, he played me this song that he's dropping soon with a line that just… it stung, you know? And I know he didn’t mean it the way it came across, but it hit a nerve after everything that’s been said about us.”

Saweetie chimed in, “You mean all the baby mama stuff people keep talking about online?”

“Exactly,” Maryse admitted. “And I overheard some women at my meeting basically calling me a glorified baby mama, and it got in my head. Then, when I heard that line in his song, it just… hurt. But the thing is, I haven’t even told him about what I heard in the bathroom because I don’t want to come across as weak or like I’m pressuring him to get married.”

“Girl, first of all,” Doja said firmly, “you’re not weak. You’re human. And you’re allowed to feel some type of way. Don’t let what those women said mess with your head. They’re projecting.”

“Facts,” Saweetie agreed. “And honestly, Maryse, if you’re feeling like this, you need to tell him. Holding it in is just going to make it worse.”

“I know,” Maryse said softly. “It’s just… everything is so different now. I love him, and I know he loves me, but it feels like we’re always arguing or misunderstanding each other. Before the twins, we were on the same wavelength. Now, it feels like we’re speaking two different languages half the time.”

“That’s parenthood,” Saweetie said knowingly. “It changes everything. But it doesn’t mean your love isn’t still there. You just gotta work a little harder to find your rhythm again.”

“And don’t forget,” Doja added, “he’s probably feeling the pressure too. Dads don’t always show it, but they stress about providing, protecting, and all that. Have y’all talked about how you’re both feeling lately? Like, really talked?”

Maryse shook her head, even though they couldn’t see her. “Not really. We’ve had moments, but I don’t think either of us has been fully honest.”

Doja sighed heavily. “You know, Maryse, I’m gonna be real with you. Since the very beginning, communication has been y’all’s main issue. Like, it’s been a pattern.”

“What?” Maryse said, slightly defensive. “That’s not true. We talk—”

“Do you, though?” Saweetie interjected. “Because, girl, I love you, but you have a habit of holding stuff in until it blows up. And Jack? He’s not exactly the king of expressing himself either.”

She frowned. “I don’t hold things in.”

Doja snorted. “Oh, really? Should I remind you about when you two broke up? How long did you keep all your feelings bottled up before it all came spilling out at once?”

“Or,” Saweetie added, “when that incident happened your album release party with Nate and you refused to answer Jack’s calls and he just wanted to make sure you were okay!”

Maryse opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again. She couldn’t deny they had a point.

“Okay, fine,” she admitted. “Maybe we don’t always communicate the best. But it’s not just me! He can be so stubborn sometimes, and I don’t want to seem like I’m nagging or complaining.”

“That’s the problem,” Saweetie said gently. “Y’all are both so worried about how the other person is going to react that you don’t say what’s really on your mind. That’s not nagging—it’s being honest.”

“And trust me,” Doja added, “he’d probably rather hear you vent than have you bottling it all up. That’s when the real problems start.”

Maryse sighed, running a hand through her hair. “You’re both right. I just… I don’t want to make things harder than they already are.”

Girl,” Saweetie said, “things are only hard because you’re making them that way by avoiding the real conversations. Y’all love each other. We all see it. But love isn’t enough if you’re not communicating. You gotta stop being scared to tell him how you feel.”

Maryse let their words sink in, realizing how much truth there was in what they were saying. She had been avoiding hard conversations, hoping things would resolve themselves, but that clearly wasn’t working.

“Okay,” she said finally. “I hear you. I need to stop avoiding things and just… talk to him.”

“Yes!” Doja exclaimed. “That’s all we’re saying. You two are solid—you just gotta act like it.”

As the conversation wound down, Saweetie sighed. “And for God’s sake, Maryse, stop walking away when the going gets tough. You do it all the time.”

“I don’t—” Maryse began defensively, but Doja cut her off.

“You aren’t even home right now!” Doja said firmly. “Every time things get hard, you shut down or leave.”

Maryse groaned. “That’s not fair. I needed space.”

“Space is fine,” Saweetie said, her tone softer now. “But you can’t just keep walking away and expect things to magically fix themselves. If you want this relationship to last, you have to face the hard stuff head-on. Together.”

Maryse sighed, knowing they were right. “I know. I just… sometimes I feel like walking away is better than saying something I’ll regret.”

Doja snorted. “Yeah, but then you leave him hanging, and that’s not fair either. He’s probably sitting there wondering what the hell is going on while you’re off avoiding the issue.”

“You’re right,” Maryse admitted quietly. “I need to stop doing that.”

Saweetie’s voice softened even more. “We’re not trying to gang up on you, girl. We just want you to be happy, and we know you love him. But love means showing up, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”

Maryse felt her eyes sting with tears. “I do love him. So much. And you’re right—I need to do better. I just… I’m scared sometimes.”

“Of what?” Doja asked gently.

“Of saying the wrong thing. Of making things worse,” Maryse admitted.

Saweetie chimed in, “But avoiding it doesn’t make it better. You’ve got to trust that your love is strong enough to handle tough conversations.”

She nodded, wiping her eyes. “You’re right. Both of you. I need to stop running and just… deal with it.”

“Exactly,” Doja said. “Now go handle your business, and stop making us play therapist.”

Maryse chuckled through her tears. “Thank you. I needed this.”

“Anytime,” Saweetie said. “Now go fix it before we have to come over there ourselves.”

Maryse laughed. “Love you guys.”

“Love you too,” they said in unison before hanging up.

***

Maryse paused in the doorway of the living room when she finally made it back home, her hand resting lightly on the frame as she took in the sight of Jack sitting on the couch, his head in his hands. He looked tired, frustrated, and maybe even a little defeated. She swallowed hard, her earlier resolve wavering, but she forced herself to step inside.

“Where are the twins?” she asked softly knowing that it wasn’t nap time for them yet.

Jack didn’t look up right away. When he did, his expression was unreadable, but his tone carried a sharp edge. “While you left me,” he said, his words deliberate, “I took them to my mom’s house. Figured they’d want to see their grandparents.”

Maryse blinked, taken aback by the pettiness in his voice. She hadn’t expected that. “Oh,” she said quietly, unsure of how to respond.

Jack leaned back against the couch, his arms crossed now. “Didn’t seem like you wanted to be here, so I thought I’d give you the space you clearly needed.”

Maryse bit her lip, guilt twisting in her chest. “I didn’t leave because I wanted space from you or the kids. I just walked to the park…I needed a moment to think.”

He let out a humorless laugh. “A moment, huh? You’ve been having a lot of those lately.”

Her shoulders sagged, and she took a tentative step closer. “Look, I know I shouldn’t have left like that. I was upset, but I should’ve talked to you instead of running off. I’m sorry.”

Jack’s eyes softened slightly, but his walls were still up. “Why didn’t you just say what was on your mind? Why is it always easier for you to walk away than to talk to me?”

She hesitated, struggling to find the words. “Because I didn’t want to argue. I didn’t want to say something I couldn’t take back. I’m trying to do better, I swear.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The tension in the room felt suffocating. Finally, Singer walked over and sat down beside him. She placed a hand on his arm, her touch tentative. “I’ll go pick them up,” she offered.

He shook his head. “They’re fine where they are for now. My mom was happy to have them.”

Maryse nodded, her throat tightening. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again.

Jack glanced at her, his expression softening further as he saw the genuine regret in her eyes. “We can’t keep doing this,” he said quietly. “It’s not good for us. Or them.”

“I know,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ll do better. I promise.”

Jack exhaled, the weight of the day still heavy on him. “We both need to do better.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder, and after a moment, he rested his cheek against her hair.

They sat in silence for a few moments before pulling away.

Jack leaned back against the couch, arms crossed as he looked at Maryse. “Let’s just put everything out on the table,” he said firmly. “No holding back. Say what you need to say, and I’ll do the same.”

Maryse hesitated, her fingers gripping the sleeves of the hoodie she had stolen from him years ago, the fabric now soft and worn. She tugged at the cuffs absentmindedly, trying to gather her thoughts, but her mind felt like a tangled mess. Where did she even start?

Her throat felt dry as she opened her mouth, then closed it again, glancing down at her hands. “I…” she started, then sighed, shaking her head.

Jack didn’t rush her. He just watched, waiting.

She took another breath, trying again. “I feel like… things are different. Since having the twins.” She glanced up at him, searching his face. “Not in a bad way. Just… different.”

Jack’s expression didn’t change, but she could see the way his jaw tightened slightly, like he’d been thinking the same thing.

She swallowed, tugging at her sleeve again. “And I don’t know if it’s just me, but sometimes I miss how things used to be.”

The room felt heavier now, but not in a way that was unbearable. Just… full. Full of words unsaid, of feelings waiting to be unpacked.

Jack nodded slowly, rubbing his hands together as he processed her words. “I get that,” he finally said, voice low.

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

And for the first time in a while, it felt like they were finally about to have the conversation they needed.

***

TO BE CONTINUED

AN: I’m posting this really late my bad but let me know your thoughts pleaseeeeee! I had to split this chapter in two parts because it was too long hehe

Tag List:

@harlowsbby @heavyhitterheaux @harlowcomehome @https-harlow @hoodharlow @gazebotori @itsyagirljaz @cosypinky2 @theyoganarrative @ann2sno @bugheadfanatic @umicornlove @venice-bxtch @muli-wam @jackharlow502 @aga21 @iknowdatsrightbih @theboujeestofboujee @babygirl-htx @chantelaustingunn @wabi-sabi1090 @dstark-0706 @kkrenae @hufflewhore128 @jackiehollanderr @katiaw2 @firepuma @easternparkway

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow reader #flashing lights #jack harlow x you #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow angst #jack harlow fluff

75 notes · View notes

astermath · 2 years ago

Text

pairing: robin buckley x fem!reader

summary: robin falls head over heels for the cool girl renting horror movies at family video. steve can’t believe her awkward shyness is actually landing her a date, but he’s happy for her nonetheless.

word count: idk kinda short lol under 1K

notes: just wanted to write a little blurb, then it turned into something else, so enjoy this short little meet cute with robin ♡

normal sized font below!

Robin really is that love at first sight kinda girl.

She’s the type of girl to be busy sorting tapes at family video, when you walk in, all pretty femininity and mysterious aura around you. And suddenly she doesn’t know what to do with herself. She doesn’t know where she is, why she’s there, hell, she probably wouldn’t be able to tell you her name if she asked.

She doesn’t stop staring at you, not when you enter and not when you walk over to the horror section to pick something out. Only when Steve nudges her in her side, she snaps out of it, looking more flustered than ever.

“Dude, can you not?”

“Sorry man, it just— looked like you were falling asleep with your eyes open! What’s with you anyways?”

Robin doesn’t respond, simply averting her eyes to the cash register and hoping Steve doesn’t pry any further.

Which would have worked, if you weren’t talking to her right now.

“I’m sorry, can I—“

“Yes! Yes, absolutely, you can…” Robin trails off, realising she hasn’t even let you finish your request. Her own eagerness embarrasses her to no end, her face heating up and her cheeks now closely resembling the colour of a tomato.

To her surprise, you giggle. You’re not awkward about it at all, which somehow makes her fall for you even harder.

“I was gonna ask what the latest time would be when I’d be able to return this.” you smile, and the blonde girl is certain it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

“Oh! Yeah, totally, no problem! It’s uh— a great choice, by the way. I love friday the 13th, sooo good, all that horror stuff, a huge fan—“

“A week.” Steve interrupts her rambling.

“Huh?” Robin turns to her friend.

“To answer her question, since you’re too busy being head over heels over here.”

You chuckle again, and Robin genuinely thinks her head is going to explode. Not only is her best friend making fun of her in front of you, but you’re not even making her feel bad about it. It’s like you find it cute or something. How crazy is that?

“Cool, I’ll just uh,” you hold up the tape, “rent this one then.”

Robin rings you up, her hands moving faster than her mind, and she hopes you don’t notice the slight shakiness in them. It’s not every day the prettiest girl in the whole world shows up at her job, so she’s not exactly prepared.

“Thanks,” you take the tape from her along with the receipt, your fingers touching slightly when she slides them over. Now you’re the one who’s getting the butterflies.

“So, you said you were a fan of horror movies?”

Robin nods enthusiastically, while Steve has to bite his tongue to hold back from saying that that’s the biggest lie ever. Robin isn’t a coward, not at all, but she’s the worst at scary movies. She’s just saying all this to impress you. She doubts it’s working though.

“Well, I was gonna watch this alone, but…” you grab a pen off the counter and scribble down your number on the receipt. “If you feel like watching it together, give me a call…” you pause to read her name tag. “Robin.” You smile again. “Nice name.”

“T-Thanks! You uh, you too!”

“Thanks, even though I… Haven’t told you yet.” You write your name down next to the number. “Now you know.”

“Huh…” She reads it over, not being able to keep herself from smiling like she’s sunshine incarnate. “That is a really nice name though.”

You grin, grabbing the tape off the counter and stuffing it in your bag. “Well, Robin, I’m free this Friday, if you wanna take me up on the offer.” You start walking backwards and give her a quick wave. “See y’around.”

She waves back, although more hesitant. Frankly, she’s still processing the entire encounter, and the fact that you’re real. Someone as beautiful as you exists, talked to her, even gave her your number. She didn’t know a reality like that was possible.

“I can’t believe that worked.” Steve scoffs in disbelief, though he’s pretty stoked for Robin all in all. He wants his friend to find her special person as much as he does for himself.

“Yeah,” she stares as you walk off, “me too.”

The freckled girl groans loudly and drops her head into her hands. “Why the fuck did I say any of that? Why do I always just keep talking?”

“I don’t see the big deal Buckley,” her coworker leans against the counter, “you got your date, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but then what? Then what do I do? I might have been able to charm her with my awkward idiocy this time, but what if we watch the movie and she finds out I’m a huge wuss!” She gestures around wildly with her hands, earning a confused stare from one of the older customers.

“This is going to sound so stupid, and I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he runs his hand through his brown locks, “but just like, be yourself? She seems nice enough, I’m sure she won’t judge you for being a total scaredy cat.”

“Not helping, Harrington.” She gives him a defeated look.

“Sorry, you know what I mean.”

“But what if she does?”

“What?”

“What if she does judge me? I mean jesus Steve, I wouldn’t blame her! She’s like— way out of my coolness league! She’s practically doing charity work watching a movie with me.”

Steve scoffs. “Don’t sell yourself short, Buckley, you’re plenty cool. Besides, if she does judge you, then clearly she’s not worth it. But again, I think you’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, already picturing her holding onto you in fear of a completely fictional serial killer. “I guess you’re right.” She goes quiet for a moment, before she’s back to daydreaming about the whole scenario. The two of you on your couch, shoulders touching, maybe an arm around her, hands brushing when you reach for the popcorn, all that sappy stuff…

“Buckley?”

Maybe you’d find it cute that she gets scared. Maybe you’d wanna protect her. She gets that vibe from you, that you’d keep her safe from all the Freddy Kruegers and Jason Voorhees of the world.

“Robin!”

Steve snaps her out of her daydreaming, gesturing towards Keith who’s about to enter the store.

“You two organise those tapes like I asked you to?” Their manager isn’t even looking at them, struggling with putting away his car keys.

Robin swipes the tapes off the counter and stuffs them randomly into the two boxes. That’s a problem for later.

“Yup! All sorted! Good thing I love organising stuff!” She laughs awkwardly, and Steve is fighting for his life trying not to laugh.

She’s got bigger things to worry about right now. Like what to wear for her date with you. And what kind of snacks you like to eat with your movies. And how she’s going to explain that the scariest thing she can handle is Frankenweenie.

comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

#robinmath #aster writes stranger things #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley stranger things #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley fic #robin buckley drabble #robin buckley blurb #platonic stobin #platonic!stobin #robin buckley fluff

862 notes · View notes

juyeoz · 4 months ago

Text

GOOD GRACES — YANG JUNGWON

003 ┆ mistakes my evil twin (0.8k words)

The Decelis Academy’s Atheltic Committee (in other words, DAAC) club room wasn’t the biggest. It was the size of your average classroom, yet it was decorated to satisfy the needs of the said club members.

The sunlit room felt warm and fuzzy as any autumn day would have felt. It was the perfect place to relax.

“That’s pretty much it. Just need a few more helpers for the upcoming tournament and bulletin boards in the hallway.” Wonyoung said, wrapping up her part of the meeting with her eyes still on the projector.

“Any questions?” She asked, looking over at the familiar group of faces.

“Should we also create advertisements to join the club? I know we’ll need more hands when the other sports come, but I doubt the morning announcements are enough since many people tune them out.”

Wonyoung took in Ningning’s words, letting them ease into her mind. She wasn’t wrong, not at all. Truly, she had an amazing point which only left Wonyoung feeling satisfied.

“Yes, I definitely agree with that.” She said with a smile.

“Do you want to work on that, Ningning?”

“I don’t mind, I have a lot of time on my hands anyway.” She replied, replicating the smile Wonyoung held on her lips.

“Alright, if that’s everything, (Name), you can take over now.” Wonyoung insisted.

You rose up from your seat, gaining an irritated expression and groaning from the male who sat a few rows in front of you—the captain of the boys volleyball team.

Or, in other words, Yang Jungwon.

“Shut up,” you muttered while walking past his seat. He rolled his eyes at your response and slouched down into his chair.

“It’ll take an extra 5 minutes…” You said while preparing the projector to portray your photos. A few awkward moments of silence went by with you adjusting your photos to enlarge on the projector.

However, eventually, you succeeded.

“Okay, so, I was just wondering about some basic things!” You began while clasping your hands together and moving out of the way.

“I took some pictures for the basketball posters and wanted to hear your thoughts on them—”

The sudden sound of a phone ringing was enough to silence your voice as everyone’s heads turned to face the culprit.

“Sorry, one moment.” Wonyoung said with an apologetic smile and walked out of the classroom.

A snicker escaped Jungwon’s lips, causing him to receive a glare from you upfront.

“As I was saying, I already prepared a poster with an image which will be posted tomorrow, but just for future purposes.” You explained while switching to the poster in question.

“Here it is—”

“Who approved of this?” A voice questioned, cutting you off once again.

You inhaled deeply and looked over to the crowd of students, picking up the irritated expression on the one and only Yang Jungwon’s face.

“Why? What’s wrong with it?” You asked.

“The quality could’ve been much higher. I can’t even read the text in the middle.”

“I’ll remake it then.” You simply said. You didn’t want to argue with him under such a time limit.

“Why not just use a photo that was taken during a match?” He continued.

“There’s not many taken. I could just fix it up later.”

“There’s nothing that ties Decelis Academy to the poster other than our school name. It could say almost anything and you’d just be swapping words around.”

You hated his voice. It was so irritating, almost causing you to fume up into flames. Despite that, you had to keep your cool.

“At least use a photo of the team.”

“I don’t have an—”

“You should have a higher standard for things. People wouldn’t even bat an eye at something so boring. In other words, that.”

The clubroom’s atmosphere was suffocating. The tension was evident and only made everyone else antsy and uncomfortable. They didn’t want to make anything worse, part of them hoping Wonyoung would return soon.

In their favour, the door clicked open and showcased another apologetic Wonyoung. She slipped her phone down into her pockets and closed the door behind her.

“Unfortunately, time is up. I’m sorry, (Name). If anything you can text the group chat, okay?” She said as you nodded in response.

Your eyes shifted over to Yang Jungwon, the most irritating volleyball player you’ll ever meet.

He was leaning back into his chair with his head tilted to the right and arms crossed over his chest. A smug smirk tugging at the corner of his lip.

You hated how innocent he looked as if he wasn’t the cause of this all. You hated how the bell went, leaving you with no time left. You hated how he collected his belongings, swinging his backpack over one shoulder and walked past you in silence with his hands in his pockets.

It was almost as if you weren’t even there.

Nevertheless, most importantly, you hated Yang Jungwon all together and to you, that will never change.

PREVIOUS MASTERLIST NEXT

ENHYPEN PERM TAGLIST — @miumura @macapunoz @kxppachu

GOOD GRACES TAGLIST — @anuisamazing @garrdenwon @dreamiestay @starfallia @mrchweeee @mymelodyfanatic @getoxo @jiamini @imnotyizhuo @heartheejake @wonlluvie @theothernads @yvjw @riribelle @winuvs @shotaddicted @hollxe1 @pinknjm @en-dream @elegancefr @wensurr @enhaz1 @r1kification @sunghxxnie @unhakki @hoonieluv @veilico @ddolleri @ahnneyong @samyria

145 notes · View notes

christinebloodwrittings · 4 months ago

Text

To hunt or be hunted

Alastor x reader x Lucifer

Chapter 4: Warnings: Sexual tension.

(Image taken from Pinterest.)

One year left. You reminded yourself while watching the black snake tattoo that slowly made its way up your arm, soon it would reach your heart and all would be over.

“Ten years, you work for me at my Hotel, and if I can’t manage to convince you to find something good to do with yourself, I’ll set you free” Charlie’s voice resonated in your head, it made no sense, but the true meaning of the deal was that if she could manage to help you find a reason to continue living, you would have a permanent home at the hotel.

If she couldn’t, you would have your soul back, and then the snake takes care of ending your suffering.

A swarming of feelings and thoughts came from thinking about the countdown, “It’s probably the best” who was going to miss you anyways? No one did back at the living world, your daughter died postpartum, your husband died because of his sins, most of your friends at the time left overseas looking for a better life, and there was no family left to mourn you.

Still isn’t.

Your father and your husband were most likely around in hell somewhere, in a hundred years you haven’t bothered to check, probably ended up repeating the same pattern: Gambling, debts, death.

May was a dreadful month, Mother’s day, your daughter’s birth and death anniversary, and just by the end of it, your birthday. Turning 40 is bad, but imagine turning 140 years old, that is worse.

You died at 35 years old in the 1920’s, since that to now it’s been 104 years, plus your age at the time 139, now turning 140. “It’s a blessing that I stayed looking the age I died in, otherwise I would be looking worse” you outlined your hips with your hands while straightening the leather straps around your waist.

‘Y/n, can you come to the parlor please?’ you heard Charlie speak through. You immediately knew what was going to happen, given that it was nine am sharp, and you weren’t summoned to make breakfast.

She either told them, or Angel was going to be fried alive.

Just as you guessed, there was Charlie in front of the fireplace, as the rest, except Alastor, looked rather hurt and shocked, especially Lucifer and Vaggie.

“You called?” The smoke cleared, making yourself appear sitting on the couch next to Charlie. A gasp found its way out of Vaggie’s throat before anyone could say anything. The angel collected her thoughts and then she was able to speak.

“Charlie, what the fuck is the AXE-MAN DOING IN THE HOTEL!” Vaggie didn’t doubt a second to stand before her with the spear pointing at you, “She’s the chef of the Hotel” Charlie smiled weakly, trying her best to stay collected. “Since when?” the feline bartender asked, not minding your presence very much.

“Before it started actually, eight years ago?” she turned to you for confirmation, which you nodded affirmatively. “And you hid this, because…?” Angel’s turn to ask. Charlie was in shambles trying to come up with an answer that wouldn’t raise more questions, but failed, so you interceded.

“We made a deal; we don’t need to disclose the details, but it made her feel guilty” she shot you an unamused look before turning to her partner, her hand softly tracing the outline of her cheek.

“How come you got angry at me for lying to you, but you keep this kind of secret, honey?” seeing Charlie look as trapped as you were amused you, however for the sake of ending the fallen angel’s ranting, you intervened.

“Hey now, whether she wanted to tell you or not it’s her business, but you hid the fact that you are an angel, worse than that a murderer, and no better than us sinners, so don’t act all hurt because now you two are even” your eyes lit up as the staring began to feel more lie a threat towards the fallen angel.

“You knew?” she diminished the distance between her spear and your neck, not earning a single flinch on your part, “One piece of advice, your golden blood leaves a trail, and the stench is very specific, those like me that are used to blood can tell the difference” Alastor nodded in agreement.

“Why didn’t you tell me” Charlie sounded suspicions not hurt, to no one’s surprise really, “Last thing I knew I was a chef, not the gossip press” you took a look back to Vaggie, using a finger to lower the spear with zero effort, “Besides, wasn’t my secret to disclose” you winked an eye.

“Wait hold on, what makes the Axe-man want to work in a place for redemption?” Lucifer questioned, now more relaxed, he was all and hellfire before thinking you had taken her daughter’s soul. “She’s kind of…” her eyes were looking to you for help, “I made her a promise, we fought and came to an agreement” you aided a response, one that was good enough for her not to worry.

Everyone turned to you, “I’m not ashamed of it, I got my ass kicked by miss sunshine here, lost my soul in the process and now I’m the chef” all except you and Charlie laughed, tearing up a little too.

“Charlie doesn’t own a soul, don’t be stupid, she’s lying right, Charlie?” Lucifer watched his darling, perfect daughter image crumble when all she could respond to was a quiet shameful nod.

“YOU own a soul?” The shock was understandable. Possessing souls was not unusual, even lower-ranking demons could do it. The fact was that it was the good-natured princess who wanted to redeem demons. It was too much for Lucifer, he flopped beside you, brushing his hair back.

“Before you all judge her, I was stupid enough to challenge her when Lilith had just left, she was in a very dark place, my timing was terrible” you laughed, making your injuries pang on every fiber and string of muscle in response.

“How dark?” the king whispered your way, “I was her punching bag, even after our fight” he muttered a ‘shit’ both impressed and somewhat feeling guilty. They both had similar eyes when it came to pain.

“The infamous Axe-Man of New Orleans, I presume” Alastor came forward, grabbing your hand and placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles. “Oh, how unfortunate” he knew your name from above, so he lived around or in New Orleans.

“Why would you say that? You made an entire state fear your ax, for years there was nothing but jazz playing in the streets at night, and what’s best, you were never identified nor caught” he pulled you from your seat, hitting his chest, his staff disappearing to leave his hand free to sneak behind your back, keeping you in place.

“Well, I’m not that person anymore” Alastor drank in your scent, the sweetness burning its way down his lungs.

Every fiber, every hair on his body, told Alastor to run. Animal instinct, a deer in the jaws of a lion, a prey in front of a carnivore. Maybe because of the post-battle adrenaline he didn't feel the same instinct when you helped him. What will you feel with him so close? hunger? anger? lust? Curiosity ate him alive, he wanted to know what was telling you your instinct, how would it feel to be eaten by you.

“What made you bury the hatchet?” Angel’s pun made you smile, “Alastor” still in his arm, you felt him shift. “When you made yourself…present in hell, young, power hungry and all that, something inside me just told me that it was time to stop” ‘or else it was going to end with blood’ you thought.

“Also before all this, I had heard about the cannibalistic murderer” you were aware of his aberration to touch, but given his closeness, you had no choice. Both of your hands settled on his hips, mostly for leverage, but also to see how he would react to you.

“What an honor, I must say your performance inspired mine” his smile twitched, especially after feeling your warmth though his coat.

“You’re insulting me, Radio demon” his chest tightened, a growl emanated from your throat, subtle but it made Alastor’s mind cloud a little. Focusing on your dilated pupils at all times to read any sign of warning, he saw nothing, no emotion whatsoever.

“Your act was sloppy, careless. The victim that became the executioner of his aggressors, tell me, do you feel better?” He didn’t understand what you were implying, once he tasted human meat he just couldn’t stop. He never asked himself if he was content, or if the blood made him feel better.

“You only targeted Italian mobsters; I’d say that’s rather sloppy” that’s all he could think, “And yet I didn’t allow myself to be shot in the head” there was a weird aura surrounding you and him.

The situation was charming, two assassins of excellence, powerful Overlords with influence and stigma. Despite their sins, they were beautiful beings full of life and grace. Lucifer couldn't help but feel a tingle on his back watching such a scene. It seemed like they were going to devour each other, and relish in it.

“Disappointed?” your fangs shined with the firelight. “A little” he answered, expecting you to be more sanguinary, just as you used to be. “I’ll make Jambalaya today if that makes you feel better” but no matter what he did, while frozen in place, like a deer in headlights, you couldn’t make him feel less excited, less alive.

“Thank you chérie, what about my work as of late?” reluctantly he let go of you, taking both of your hands in his. Yearning to make you either praise him, or crush his head under your heel.

“Very entertaining” he has a very slim waist, and yet it felt strong under your fingertips, warm. He has his hands and forearm blackened, just as his legs must be. You wondered if the rest of his skin must be of that beautiful cream color. Of course, his chest wasn’t bald, like you he has a thin layer of short and soft fur.

“Ugh, get a room” Lucifer broke the moment, making Alastor’s eyes turn into the demonic radio stare you knew so well, “Funny I didn’t think such a tiny person could have a massive mouth” he then stepped away. Was it normal to be cold? Your body missed his closeness.

“Here he goes again, how about you help me with breakfast munch-king?” Lucifer felt his jacket being pulled off the couch, dragged by it towards the door that led to the hallway to the kitchen, “Did you seriously called me that?” he allowed that, with a smirk he gave Alastor the finger.

“Want me to sing the song too?” you warned with a smile, “You wouldn’t dare-” your arm hugged his small frame into your side as you started to mock him, “Ding Dong the witch is dead!” you started, dragging the king down the hallway, “STOOP!” That was the last thing the crew heard before the door closed behind you.

In the kitchen, Lucifer wandered around, staying a few steps from you. Not because he needed it, but to not seem invasive.

“So, you challenged my daughter?” you hummed a yes, “She took the split a bit bad, huh?” in the corner of your eye you could see him sit on the kitchen island, just a few inches from where his daughter had hurt her hand.

“I’ll send you my medical bill” your sarcasm made him laugh a little, “You don’t look like you belong in the sin of pride, yours must be wrath, isn’t it?” Do demons look according to their sins? You didn’t know, “You tell me, I have yet to allow myself to ponder over what I have done”.

“I think I didn’t introduce myself, please forgive me” you left the kettle under the fire and walked over to him, “My name is Y/n” you extended your hand to him, he took it with a smile. “Lucifer Morningstar, you may call me however it pleases you” his touch was gentle, but firm, you could feel his pulse though his gloves.

A thought tickled your brain, “In that case, would you like sugar or honey in your tea, Samael?” his eyes shifted, his horns grew. Like wood, like wood, his gaze was the same as his daughter's, and yet they harbored both hatred and sadness, both as deep as an abyss.

It shot an intense wave of electricity up your spine. You stood in front of the biggest predator in all of hell.

“Sorry, sorry, I just wanted to get a reaction out of you” he hadn’t let go of your hand, nor squeezed it, “I apologize, my king” your free hand caressed over the fabric.

He pouted, still not letting go of your hand. “If you let me touch your ears, I may forgive you” he turned back, you caught the sight of his tail slithering inside his pants.

“Sure, but please don’t get too close to the inside, my instincts are very strong and unforgiving, I would hate to have your blood on my uniform” You couldn't even finish speaking when he pulled your hand, immediately starting to touch the fur surrounding your ears. His knees settled on either side of your hips, taking advantage of the extra height the furniture provided.

“So soft, it’s so weird, a lion sinner” he was pensative, “Usually it’s a loyal, brave and true creature, heaven material” the sensation made your heart flutter. You felt like a dog, which made your ego bruise up a little, but at the same time his hands were warm and gentle. So gentle, you noticed he took your advice and avoided the areas you mentioned.

“Anyways, you’re forgiven, again, you’re very soft” Another cold feeling due to loss of touch, how annoying. You swallowed a lump of saliva before you could speak again, “Thank you, I take care of myself”.

“Oh and the note, thanks, it hasn’t been easy” he didn’t eased the pressure on your hips, “Marriage ain’t easy, and being apart after thousand years of history must be rough” it’s not like the closeness bothered you, but it grant him a cocky smile and a sense of power over you, that feeling brought back the feeling of looking like a dog.

“I just…I wish I could make it up to Charlie” his hands grabbed one of yours, fidgeting with your fingers and the palm. “If it makes you feel more at ease, the sole fact that you’re here partially does more than enough” the light in his eyes lasted a few seconds, it was a lovely sight.

“Partially?” worried? Understatement. “If I say it you can’t hit me or anything” he made an X over his heart, then his hand went back to yours.

“She lied to you and you just went along with it? Parenting 101, mutual respect: she doesn’t lie and you don’t either” he applied a light pressure to your hand pads, making your claws come out and retract, that seemed to amuse him.

“So I have to…ground her?” his golden gaze went up to your eyes, but you were far too concentrated in his movements. “Well not now, but maybe speaking with her about it might be the right course of action”.

Melancholy, he had a feeling so he went for it.

“You were a parent?” he was right, your pained expression lasted a second but it was enough for him to feel a pang on his side. “For a day and a few hours” your eyes darkened, as if they were lost in thought. The warmth of his hand on your cheek and a soft ‘My condolences’ brought you back.

“I just know appropriate parenting by taking my parent’s example and do the opposite” you masked your pain with a smile and a smart remark, just like him, “Yeah, me too” his response made you scoff, “Where would you’ve sent you daughter for this kind of idea, Heaven?”.

Laughter filled the room. He wouldn’t do such a thing, nothing Charlie did would make Lucifer banish her anywhere, much less punish her like that for trying to help others.

“I had a different perspective of you” your tail stiffened around your leg, “What, a soulless maniac killer and nothing more?” you used to be like that. He laughed, “I mean, soulless indeed” you ruffled the hair that fell on his forehead, “But I’m glad I was wrong, thank you for taking care of my daughter, I see she trusts you a lot” you wouldn’t call it trust, nor she relied on you much.

Now that you think about it, taking care of her was instinctive, “I just grew used to her this past eight years” he smiled, “Thank you” he sensed the shift in you, the situation tensed up very quickly.

“Don’t, and just to be fully open about it, you were the target” you would never show your fangs to anyone, looking like an animal doesn’t give you the right to act like one.

“Wait really?” his lips twitched, almost smiling. “I thought if I bruised up your daughter you would appear, but you saw how that ended” he hummed, rather amused. Your intimidation did nothing to him.

“Are you strong enough?” he questioned it? It felt insulting, “Are you offering?” you looked at him up and down, not a trace of malice. “I mean if that’s what you wanted” he was willing to fight with you? “Nah I knew I wasn’t strong enough, it’s no different now. I just wanted to pass into history as a crazy bitch who died at the hands of the devil”.

‘I’m oversharing, shut up’ you took a deep breath, adjusting yourself in between his legs, “I see” his breath hit your skin, “Now I just do this, and I’m fine with it”.

“I’d say, you’re terrific in the kitchen, no matter if it’s a served cold or hot type of dish, you always make it taste like home” your ears flattened against your head. “Thank you” he then looked up from your hand once again, a tender pink hue adorned your cheeks.

“Anyways” you needed to get rid of his touch, it was just enough to take a few steps backwards, away from the overwhelming warmth for the cold to embrace you again. “I have to make breakfast, and I just pulled you away because your constant fights with Alastor has gotten old very quick” you walked away, taking your white apron off the hanger, then tied a lovely bow on your back with the laces.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, see you later then” was that disappointment you heard? You didn’t know, and couldn’t care as long as your body remained trying to shake off the excessive heat, and the phantom of his touch still lingering. “Fuck” thinking about it made you cut your finger with a knife.

...

Hazbin Taglist: @mysterypotatoink @sibsteria @cherry-cola-100 @readergirlstuff @phoenixica24 @martinys-world @alientee @jellyroom2 @jewelsrules @zealousllamawolf @kittycat246 @littlebluefishtail

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #radio demon #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer

54 notes · View notes

star-centric · 4 months ago

Text

Heliotrope (Eternal Love, Devotion) || Fyodor

MEANING: “The heliotrope often symbolized devoted and everlasting love, regardless of what the recipient feels or that might hurt the giver.”

A/N: This fic is probably the closest thing I’ll have to Spooktober this year 😅 but who doesn’t love a vampire Fyodor? Also I’m lowkey proud of this ☺️ Reader is gender neutral!

CW: blood (obviously), mention of death

❀ FLOWER SPECIAL MASTERLIST ❀

It was centuries ago when you first turned.

You were nothing but a lowly peasant, working in the church for food and shelter. It was the only place that would take you in, but sometimes you wondered if God truly meant for this to be your salvation.

You would go to bed with your clothes barely keeping together, stale bread and watery soup on your stomach, but you had a roof over your head and forced yourself to not complain and shiver so much in your thin bed. You weren’t on the street anymore alone, so you should be grateful. Even if the others in the church regarded you as trash, you should still be thankful.

You were close to getting put out on the streets again when you met the stranger.

You kept your head down while cleaning the outside windows, trying your best to keep away from the pastor’s wrath and the lead nun’s glare. The sun was already setting, the mix of orange and red hues disappearing from the sky as it turned to dusk. You were enjoying the view, feeling at peace for once in your life at the sight.

“It truly is a wonderful view, is it not?”

You flinched the sound, accidentally kicking the bucket and spilling the water onto the ground below, bleeding into the stranger’s shoes. You gasped, mortified at your clumsiness. You kneeled down, apologies spilling from your lips, ready to hand scrub the dirt from his shoes when he ushered you up.

“There’s no need for that- you should still be enjoying the view.”

The stranger’s voice sounded melodic in your ears, the accent from his words now registering. You glanced up, taken aback by his eyes.

They were so beautiful- a deep shade of violet that twinkled like jewels. You’ve never seen eyes that color before, honestly you didn’t even know they could be that color before until now. It was so easy to get lost in too-

The nun calling your name broke you out of thoughts, seeing the anger crawling against her face. She must have saw the whole interaction, spewing your name out like a curse. You must have looked like a bumbling idiot getting so sidetracked from your misdoings. You apologized again to the stranger, who once again had no concern over your mistakes.

He spoke to the nun that his shoes were in need of a good washing anyway, which calmed down her rage the slightest (but no doubt you’ll see more of it once he leaves). You didn’t want to part ways with him just yet, not only to keep the nun calm, but because you were now so intrigued by him.

But just like in life, you couldn’t get what you always wanted, the woman bidding him farewells and apologies on your behalf. But as she spoke, the stranger looked solely at you, avoiding her gaze. You didn’t tear away from his stare, even as you were pulled inside.

You went to sleep with those amethyst eyes on your mind. It was one of the first good dreams you’ve had since coming here.

You were back on the streets when you’ve learned his name.

It was raining, the dark clouds sharing your sorrows as you tried to shield yourself from the water drops. The bread you stole tasted better than what was given to you at the church, even when it was soggy. It gave you some substance, even if it still left your stomach growling. How long could you last like this?

It was freezing, the clothes on your back in worse wear than before. You kept your head down as the water drops slowly slid off of your bruised skin when something soft was thrown on you, slightly jumping.

Peeking out from underneath the heavy coat, you were met with the same violet eyes, a quick gasp leaving your lips.

“It’s troublesome to see you in this position. Had that much time passed since our meeting for the church to have fallen on hard times?”

You meekly shook your head no, finding yourself curling underneath his coat. “No sir, the church is still flourishing. I just…I was only causing them headache so it was best for me to leave.”

“I’m not under the impression that it was your choice.”

And he would be right, but you were too full of shame to admit it.

“Tell me- do you wish for a better life? One where the so-called people of God wouldn’t leave you to die on the streets?”

You do, you’ve always wished for it. You’ve wished to live comfortably- you didn’t have to be rich, or live like royalty, but you’ve wanted to live securely. Not where you would have to sleep on cobblestone, scrounging for food any chance you could get.

You wanted to live, and not have someone find your corpse underneath a bridge eventually.

“I do.” You were desperate, and if this was your only chance at fulfilling your desire and not death, you’re taking it.

“Then come with me, and I’ll give a life more than deserving.”

He held his hand out, a slight chill shooting through you when your fingers met his. Even if this did lead to your demise, a small part of you was content that you were able to meet this man once more, being sucked into his gaze once more. It was a sight that you felt like you shouldn’t have seen, dark locks framing his sharp features as the rain slid off his skin. He was beautiful.

Was he an angel sent by God?

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Please, address me as Fyodor.” He pulled you up, gently adjusting his coat on you. The rain had seem to calm down as soon as he appeared, and he led you away and to the start of your new life.

The castle he brought you to was far away from the town and deep into the woods, but God was it magnificent. It was just like you imagined from the stories your mother would tell you.

Fyodor gave you everything- warmth, food, clean clothes, your own room. It was enough to bring tears to your eyes, Fyodor noticed. He gently wiped them away, whispering that there was no need to cry anymore. You declared that you would do anything to pay him back for saving you- and he chuckled, saying that the time to take up your offer would eventually come, but not tonight.

You weren’t sure how soon he meant, until he appeared in your room in the late hours of the night. A pang of fear struck through you quickly, but you forcefully swallowed it down. He kept his word even if it was short lived, and you were grateful enough to get that.

Fyodor called your name, ushering you into his arms.

“Your heart is beating so fast- there’s no need for you to be scared.” He whispered, planting a few kisses along your neck, trailing down. His lips brought a chill down your spine. You should have known that he wasn’t human, even before you saw the sliver of his fangs. You went to push him away as he pinned you down on the sheets below.

“I’m simply giving you the life that you’ve always wanted. A life that you deserve- being by my side is more than fitting.”

The pain was excruciating, tears rolling down your cheeks as you couldn’t even choke out a scream. You could hear him slurping, feeling your own throat becoming wet. Your vision went blurry, and it was a battle to keep your eyes open, that you were greatly losing.

You accepted death without a further fight, going limp.

The next time you opened your eyes, something warm was dripping on your lips, a metallic taste filling your mouth. But it was delicious, and you couldn’t stop yourself from trying to get more, not realizing or even caring that it was coming from Fyodor himself, snatching his wrist and latching onto it for dear life.

You looked like a demon, a savage animal with his blood smeared on the corners of your mouth, panting with a hazy look. No further explanation was needed for what you had become. You were horrified while Fyodor remained stoic, not showing any sympathy for damning you. In his eyes, he kept his word- he gave you a better life, even if it was as a creature of the night.

Time had passed, and your new way of living became your new normal. Seeing blood and draining it from anything with a heartbeat made you squeamish no longer- you never enjoyed it, but it became tolerable. Fyodor trained you, showing you the ways to survive while still treating you as before, gifting you new outfits and the fanciest trinkets. It was like before, except now you were both feasting on blood.

You grew closer to him, feeling a pull in your chest that wouldn’t reside if you weren’t with him. He began having you sleep in his room. Your heart would have been beating at the sight of the large coffin, but gripping your chest reminded you that this was fitting for you both. But soon, you began to look forward to it among other things.

You were attached to Fyodor, not having the possibility of even imagining life with another. He had to have know it too, the lingering touches he would leave to your chilled skin. You were in love with him, and him turning you only acted as twisted sort of wedding vows, with endless promises.

It was only the two of you for years, with you doing whatever he needed or wanted, even if he hadn’t asked for you to do it. He was the only one you had room for in your heart, and continued to treat you ever so gently, like a porcelain doll. If this was eternity, you found yourself to be ecstatic.

Until he brought another person home.

Then another.

And another.

To the point where he was sharing his resting place with others, and not you.

You were obviously heartbroken- were you not enough for him? Had he grown tired of you? Had you done something wrong? It was hard to swallow your worries down, especially when they would trail behind him all the time, him sending you away to bring back food for them.

You couldn’t bite your tongue anymore, crying out in distress when he began to retreat back to his quarters. You were bitter, jealous, and above all hurt.

“I thought- I thought you cared about me.”

“What gave you the impression that I don’t?”

“These strangers that you’ve brought into our home,” you crossed your arms. “Why did you turn them? Why did you bring them here of all places?”

“The same reason that I brought you here- to give them a better life.” He tilted his head, giving you that same stoic look from the night he turned you. “They were suffering as you once were. Why would you would be the only person I saved?”

His words made your heart shatter, tears welling up in your eyes. You should have been the only one here with Fyodor, not with other people that would give him the same glance that you do. It was selfish, but you deserved to at least have something just for yourself for once in your life.

It was childish to cry over it, but it hurt. God, did it hurt.

But Fyodor was there to wipe your tears away, just like he did when you were once human. “There’s no need for your tears, darling. I’ve treated you well for your years with me, have I not?”

You sniffled, nodding your head.

“And that won’t change- you’ve done so well for me, even when you were still mortal. You’ve never crossed me wrong, and I still desire you- but there are others that need to be saved just like you were.”

Fyodor brought you close, cold fingers grasping your chin. “They can be of good use to us- place your trust in me as you’ve always done.”

You found yourself getting sunken into his gaze once more. You were blinded by your feelings, shame turning into reassurance. He was right- Fyodor has never led you astray, so you had no need to doubt his words.

So you didn’t.

Even if he said the same to the others, you were special to him- the only one that meant something to him. He saved you, and gave you a better life than you could dream of.

You’ve coated your hands in blood for Fyodor, both mortal and immortal, but it was all in his name, to assure that he didn’t have to do more than he has already done.

Even when you leapt in front of him, a wooden stake driving through your chest, a solemn smile staining your bloodied lips while the one you loved glanced down, sharing a smile that should have been out of place, you had no regrets.

You simply lived for Fyodor, and you swore to see that your love and devotion would save him from death, even if it lead to your own.

#flowerspecial.txts 🌸#writings.txts #bsd.txts #fyodor x reader #fyodor x you #fyodor x y/n #fyodor dostoevsky x reader #bsd x you #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd x y/n #bungo stray dogs x reader #vampire x reader #vampire fyodor #bsd fyodor #monster x reader #fyodor dostoevsky x you

58 notes · View notes