#I just think that if I got my heart shattered again it would give me the strength to overcome my shitty joints yk | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inseobts · 15 days ago

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Sunshine Lost

strawhat crew x fem ! strawhat ! reader (platonic)

you're the sunshine of the strawhats, until doubt shattered everything—and years later, when you return on the enemy’s side, your final act of love is a sacrifice they’ll never forget

words count: 2.4k

tags: platonic, d3ath/sacrifice, angst, hurt/comfort, accusation, misunderstanding, found family, marine involvement

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The sun shines high over the Thousand Sunny, and you’re dancing on the deck again.

"Yoo-hoo~! Sanji! Is lunch ready yet?" you sing, spinning in place as you wave your arms like a windmill "I’m starving!"

"Almost done, my sunshine angel!" Sanji calls from the kitchen window. He’s got that goofy heart-face again "Just a few more minutes, mon amour!"

You giggle "Okay! I’ll wait with my stomach screaming!"

"Don’t scream too loud," Zoro mutters from where he naps on the deck "Some of us are trying to sleep."

"Grumpy swordsman alert!" you tease, poking his leg as you skip past him.

He grunts. Doesn’t move. Classic Zoro.

Nami looks up from her map "You’ve got too much energy. You sure you didn’t sneak any cola from Franky’s stash?"

You gasp, hand to your chest "I would never! I’m innocent!"

Luffy laughs as he climbs up the mast "She just runs on sunshine!"

You beam at that. It’s true. You love them all so much. Being part of the Straw Hat crew is like a dream come true. You’re always ready to help, to smile, to cheer someone up, even when the seas are rough.

But today… today feels just a little strange.

At night, after dinner, Robin finds you sitting by yourself near the rail.

"You’re writing again?" she asks, soft voice blending with the wind.

You nod, hiding the paper quickly "Just a letter."

"To your cousin in the Marines?"

"Yeah," you say "But it’s not like I tell them anything important. I just wanna know if they’re okay."

Robin nods slowly "Be careful. Not everyone sees things like you do."

You blink "What do you mean?"

She just smiles, sad and mysterious "That sunshine of yours… don’t let anyone steal it."

You laugh "No one can steal the sun, Robin."

But you keep your letter hidden that night, folded under your pillow.

A week later, everything falls apart.

"How did they know?!" Nami slams her hands on the table "The Marines were waiting for us at the next island—again! That’s three times now!"

"We even changed our plans" Zoro growls "There’s no way they should’ve known."

Luffy’s quiet. Too quiet.

Franky crosses his arms "Somebody’s talking."

"What are you saying?" You ask, blinking “No one here would do that!”

Brook looks at you gently "Miss Y/N… it’s true someone might be giving them hints, even if they don’t mean to."

You feel the room tilt.

"I talk to someone in the Marines… but I never tell them anything important! I swear!"

Sanji’s smoking. He doesn’t look at you.

"You write letters, don’t you?" Nami’s voice is sharp now "Maybe they read them. Maybe you say more than you think."

"No!" You stand up. Your hands shake "I would never hurt you guys. I love you!"

Robin’s voice is cool "We know how much you care. But the pattern is real. We can’t ignore it."

"You think it’s me." You look around the table "You all think it’s me."

No one answers.

Luffy’s still quiet.

That hurts the most.

You whisper, "Captain?"

He looks up "Just�� give us some time, Y/N."

And with that, you’re dismissed.

Your chest feels like it’s caving in. Like someone reached in and squeezed the sun right out of you.

Later that night, you sit alone again. No dancing. No singing. Just silence.

You don’t write a letter. You don’t smile.

Just sit.

Because when your family doubts you… what’s left to shine for?

The ship is quiet tonight. Too quiet. Like it knows you’re leaving.

No stars in the sky, just heavy clouds. Wind brushing your skin like cold fingers. You shiver, but not from the breeze.

You stand in the dark hallway, holding a small bag. Just the basics. You don’t need much. You never did.

Inside the boys' room, you hear snoring. Zoro. Maybe Usopp too. Or even Luffy. In the kitchen, nothing but silence. Sanji must have gone to bed early. Robin’s reading in the library. She won’t hear you pass.

You pause for one second. Just one.

No. You can’t stop. If you say goodbye, you’ll cry. If you cry, you’ll stay. And you can’t stay.

They didn’t believe you.

They looked at you with those eyes. Like you were a traitor. A liar. A risk.

You thought this crew was your family. Your safe place. Your light. But now all you feel is cold.

And you’ve been through this before.

Back then, when people you loved turned their backs on you. Back then, when “trust” was just a word, not a promise.

You swore if it happened again, you wouldn’t wait around to feel it twice.

So you don’t.

You lower a small boat into the sea. No sound, just soft ripples. Your heart is beating loud though. It almost drowns everything else.

You don’t look back.

Not once.

When the sun rises, Luffy yawns and stretches.

“Morning!” he calls, walking toward the kitchen “Hey, Y/N! You awake?”

No answer.

“Probably sleeping in,” Usopp mumbles as he walks by “She always does after a storm.”

Robin glances around “She’s not in the girls’ room.”

Sanji checks the kitchen “She’s not here either…”

Jinbe frowns “Where’s her bag?”

Chopper runs around, checking corners “She’s not anywhere! She’s gone! She’s really gone!”

Nami’s eyes go wide “No note? No nothing?”

Silence.

And then Luffy steps outside. Looks out at the open sea.

He whispers, voice hoarse, “She left.”

No one knows what to say.

Because they all felt it.

They all doubted. And now… the sunshine is gone.

Three Years Later

Location: Pyros Island – North District, in flames

“Move in! We don’t let them escape again!”

The shout cuts through fire and gunpowder smoke.

The Strawhats are in the middle of chaos, racing down broken stone streets, dodging cannon fire, punching through enemy ranks. This was supposed to be a stealth job. Take down a weapons lab. Get out.

It isn’t... because you’re here.

You step out from the shadows, cloak whipping behind you, no longer in bright colors or sunny dresses. You're in black and crimson now... worn gear, face half-covered by a mask. Your eyes sharp.

Not the sunshine girl they remember.

"Stop!" Sanji shouts, eyes wide “That’s—!”

"Y/N...?” Nami says your name like it’s a memory slipping out by accident.

Zoro freezes “No way...”

Luffy stares at you from across the smoke-filled plaza, fists trembling at his sides.

But you don’t say a word.

Instead, you pull your blade.

Your team moves with you, mercenaries, ex-revolutionaries, no flag but fire. You're not with the Marines, never were. But you’re on the other side now. That much is clear.

Brook deflects a strike from one of your allies “Miss Y/N?! Is it truly you?”

You don’t answer.

Too fast. Too close. Luffy launches forward.

“Y/N, stop! Why are you—”

You clash.

Your blade hits his fist, sparks flying.

“Don’t talk to me like we’re friends” you snap. Your voice is colder. Steady. But underneath, your hands are shaking.

“You left us,” he says “Without a word!”

"You doubted me first, how could I stay?" you spit back, eyes flashing.

Robin tries to reach you “You were hurting. We didn’t see it then. But we do now. We—”

“Don’t.” you hiss, swinging at her, forcing her back “You don’t get to say that now.”

Everything’s burning. Everything’s loud. You see fire in every direction. Screams. Crashes.

You hear the crew shouting your name, over and over.

"Y/N!"

"Sunshine, please!"

"Don’t do this!"

You clutch your head suddenly.

They’re louder. But they’re not saying the right things.

Why now? Why not then?

You blink and the battlefield shifts.

Suddenly, they’re laughing. Mocking.

You see their faces, twisted... Zoro glaring, Nami whispering, Luffy turning away.

“You talk to Marines?”

“She’s a spy.”

“We can’t trust her.”

You hear your own voice screaming. No, no, no, that’s not what happened!

You stumble back, vision swimming.

Your chest aches. You can’t breathe.

“Shut up!” you scream, though no one is talking now “Get out of my head!”

Luffy runs toward you again “We didn’t mean it! We were wrong! I was wrong!”

You see the real Luffy this time, his eyes wide, real, full of pain.

But you still can't move.

Too many voices.

Too many memories.

Too many lies you told yourself just to survive.

You drop a smoke bomb and vanish in the clouds.

You hide deep in the ruins. Knees pulled to your chest, eyes wide, breathing heavy.

“…I thought I forgot” you whisper to no one.

But you didn’t.

You remember every laugh. Every dinner. Every hand on your shoulder.

And the way they looked at you that day.

Back on the battlefield, the Strawhats stand in silence, the fire dying down.

“She’s not our sunshine anymore...” Sanji mutters.

“No,” Luffy says, fists clenched “She is. We just broke her light.”

Luffy crashes into the ground, breath knocked out of him. His hat flies off.

“Damn it!” he groans, pushing himself up.

Zoro stands bloodied, blade shaking in his grip “There’s too many.”

Sanji is on one knee, coughing hard “They’re surrounding us.”

“They’re fighting harder because of her,” Nami says between clenched teeth, weather staff crackling with weak sparks “They think we broke her. Maybe we did.”

Brook’s coat is torn. Franky’s chest plate is dented. Chopper’s trying to hold everyone together, but his hands won’t stop shaking.

Robin is quiet. Her arms bloom around them like shields, trembling and breaking just as fast.

They’re losing.

They’ve never lost like this.

Not like this, where it feels like they deserve it.

You’re still in the ruins, clutching your head, listening to ghosts.

"She’s not one of us anymore." "She left." "You were the traitor." "We were wrong." "We were wrong."

"We were wrong."

You blink hard.

They're still fighting.

They're losing.

Because of you.

You rise.

You shouldn’t. You don’t owe them anything. You told yourself that over and over. Built a whole new life around it.

But seeing them bleed, fall, break apart, something inside you won’t let you stay still.

Even after everything.

Even after they didn’t.

You run through the burning alleys, pushing past fallen stone and crying civilians. Your blade is heavy in your hand, your body is slower than it used to be, but your heart is beating with something again.

You see Luffy hit the ground a second time.

You see a blade fly for Nami’s back while she tries to shield Chopper.

You don’t think.

You move.

Your sword blocks it. Sparks fly.

“Get away from her” you growl.

Everyone freezes.

"Y/N...?" Nami whispers, eyes wide.

You stand between them and the enemy, panting, blade up “I’m not here to fight you anymore.”

The enemy soldiers pause, confused.

You glance back at the crew “You guys still suck at watching each other’s backs.”

“…Sunshine?” Sanji breathes, like he’s scared the name will make you vanish again.

You smirk weakly, turning back toward the enemy “Don’t get used to it.”

Then you charge.

Luffy is the first to move after you “HEY! THAT’S OUR IDIOT!”

Zoro grins through blood “Still crazy, huh?”

Nami laughs, even as tears fill her eyes “She came back…”

“Let’s go get her back for real” Robin says, voice like steel.

"Now we’re talkin’, super-style!” Franky shouts, getting to his feet.

Chopper wipes his tears “You’re still our sunshine!”

They all surge forward again, stronger, together, because you’re there.

Because you're home.

After the last of the enemy falls, you collapse on your knees, breathing hard. Ash clings to your skin, and your arms are shaking.

Luffy walks up slowly, holding out a hand.

You look up at him.

"Still want me?" you ask quietly, voice breaking.

Luffy nods, smiling just a little, just enough.

“Always.”

You take his hand.

And this time, you stay. Or at least that's your plan.

The flames have died down. The enemy is running. The people are cheering.

But the war isn’t over.

Because the commander hasn’t fallen yet.

And he’s aiming right for Sanji.

He’s too slow this time. Too injured. Too distracted by you, by the way you laughed earlier, helped Nami, the way your eyes softened when you called him to help you when you got surrounded “Curlybrow!”

He looked at you like he wanted to say something.

He never got the chance.

“SANJI, LOOK OUT!”

You see the blade flash. You see him twist too late.

You move.

Faster than you thought possible. Faster than fear, faster than pain.

You throw yourself in front of him.

You feel the cold stab of steel through your side.

Then through your chest.

Everything stops.

"Y/N—!!!"

Your knees hit the ground. You smile, eyes wide with shock and tears “I'm still fast… huh?”

You fall.

Sanji catches you.

“No, no, no—” His voice breaks instantly, arms shaking as he lowers you down “No! What the hell did you do?!”

“…Guess I owed you guys something big.”

Zoro takes the enemy out for good.

“You idiot!” Sanji shouts at you “You absolute...! Why?!”

You laugh, a cough mixed in “You were the only one who didn’t look at me like a traitor after it happened… You never doubted me, did you? That helped me... So I figured, this time, I’d be the one to help you.”

Sanji’s breath hitches “Don’t say stuff like that. You don’t—you don’t get to do this! Not after you just came back!”

You look past him. Luffy is yelling your name. Nami is sobbing, gripping her staff like it’s all she has left.

Zoro clenches his jaw, his sword sheathed. He already knows.

Robin’s hand covers her mouth.

Even the others can’t move.

You smile at all of them.

You shine, even as your blood soaks the stone.

“I missed you guys… so much.”

Sanji holds you close, forehead against yours.

“We never stopped looking for you” he whispers, tears streaming down his face.

You smile faintly.

“I know. I was the one too scared to face you again.”

The sky is clear now.

No smoke.

No fire.

Just the warmth of the sun rising on the horizon.

Your fingers twitch toward it.

“I'm happy now…”

And then, you go still.

No one says a word.

The Strawhats stand together, for once not in victory, but in grief.

The battlefield is silent.

Because their sunshine is gone for real now.

But the light you left behind burns in all of them now.

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sukumna · 2 months ago

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MEAN BIG BROTHERS

characters. naoya. gojo. sukuna.

triggers. fem!reader. incest. biting. blood. degradation. misogyny.

₊˚⊹ lab notes. head empty just thinkin’ ‘bout mean big brothers—ughhhh. your mean big brother who hide how much he wants to fuck ur cunny by being mean. come give me big brother!thirts i can write.

— NAOYA ZENIN

he doesn’t want to punish you, but… look at you. you’re an embarrassment to this family. the way your ass hangs out of your shorts, the way you toss flirty waves and smiles at any man passing by the cabana where the two of you are lounging.

naoya angrily takes a swig of his cheap beer. it’s all the two of you could afford as broke college students who spent way too much on plane tickets to this overcrowded, underwhelming beach. his grip tightens around the can when he sees you sharing a smile with some scrawny guy.

he scoffs, muttering under his breath.

“he isn’t even good-looking. If you’re gonna whore around, the least you could do is pick better men.”

you whip your head around, eyes blazing as you glare at your older brother. “what did you just say?”

naoya only rolls his eyes beneath his sunglasses.

“called you a slut. a whore. bet if you spread your legs, your pussy lips would spill right out of that tiny fucking swimsuit. You should cover up… if you even have anything in that bag that isn’t just a string. what, not having a father figure turned you into a useless hole?”

— GOJO SATORU

gojo-nii’s fingers slip beneath the hem of your skirt, pinching your clit—hard. the sudden jolt of pain has you gasping, eyes wide as you look up at your older brother, tears threatening to spill.

“s-stop it, nii-chan!” you huff, pushing at his chest.

“hhen behave.” his voice is calm, unaffected. “mom and sad won’t tolerate another one of your episodes.” as if being in the gojo clan is the easiest thing in the world. as if being the lesser twin, the useless one, is supposed to leave you smiling at these charity events.

“okay! leave me alone.” you spin on your heel and march to your vanity, hoping he’ll take the hint.

but gojo just sighs, lounging on your vanity bench before grabbing your wrist and pulling you down onto his lap, just the way he likes it—your legs draped over his, your back pressed against his chest.

“oh, baby sister. you know I didn’t mean to hurt you.” he nuzzles into your hair, voice soft and sweet. “it’s mom and dad. they make me say these things to you.” his arms tighten around you. “i think you’re just as useful as me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “so, so much more.”

you scoff, shoving off his lap and grabbing your purse. tou don’t want to hear this. you don’t want to deal with him.

as your fingers brush the doorknob, you feel his chest press against your back, his lips hovering near your ear.

“behave,” he warns, slipping a hand beneath your skirt. His palm cups your pussy through the fabric. “or I’ll have to punish you. you know I will.”

— SUKUNA RYOMEN

kuna-nii just got out of jail again. he doesn’t have anywhere to go, and even though you hate him, you still pity him. if things had been different, maybe he could’ve been something else. something more.

so, you let him stay at your apartment.

it’s miserable. he takes up all your space, brings his shady friends around, trashes the place. a week in, you’re woken by a loud crash.

heart pounding, you grab the nearest object—a shoe—and rush out, ready to defend yourself. but when you step into the living room, all you see is your brother and his scumbag friends standing over your shattered coffee table.

sukuna turns at the sound of your shaky breathing. his gaze rakes over you, from your shaking frame to your little white pajamas.

he grins. “aw, c’mon—look at my little sis, you guys last time I saw you, you didn’t have an ass like that.” his fingers curl around your wrist, yanking you down onto his lap. “or tits like this.”

you don’t even have time to react before his rough hands grope at your chest, his teeth sinking in—biting, bruising.

“kuna! kuna-nii, stop!” you squeal, panic rising in your throat as tears well up in your eyes. you push at his arms, but he’s too big, too strong.

he grunts, finally loosening his grip just enough for you to wriggle free. you stumble to your feet, arms wrapped protectively around yourself as you back away.

then you see it. blood, dripping down your chest from the mark.

#sukumna.#tw.incest #tw.dark content #gojo x reader #naoya x reader #sukuna x reader #gojo smut #sukuna smut #naoya smut

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orimuraa · 2 months ago

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‧₊˚ 梦┊Sweet dreams come after hours - Nishimura Riki ↳ ┊: sweet dreams (feat. miguel) - j-hope

꒰ 𝔖𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ꒱┆you were always the light in riki’s life, but but what happens when you needed that light most? ⨾

۶ৎ grumpy boyfriend!riki x sunshine fem!reader┆fluff, comfort, angst┆petnames, kisses, mentions of parental issues, ni-ki is a sweetheart deep down┆wc 822

⤷ 𝐲𝐞𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: sigh. i think i made this hit too deep- this is prompt 14 from this list!

prompt 14: "you smiled! i saw it, so no denying it!"

꒰ঌ ℬℴℴ𝓀𝓈𝒽ℯ𝓁𝒻 ໒꒱

you had known riki since the start of your high school days and somewhere in those years, you started catching feelings for him.

he was a quiet, pessimistic boy who had no right being as tall as he was. the only positive thing in his life came in the form of a person, aka, you.

you kinda forgot how it all happened and when it happened but at some point along the line, you started dating nishimura riki.

he was a gentle, kind, and caring boy when he was around you and the rest of his friends. however, other people? not so much.

on the other hand, you were basically the brightest person alive. you smiled to everyone in the halls, waved to people who you knew, and always had a cheerful smile on your face.

riki's friends always loved to tease you guys about how it was a perfect "grumpy x sunshine" trope. they weren't wrong, but it always made riki scoff while it made you giggle.

there was only one time that made his lips twitch into a small smirk when his friends were saying how you both looked like a dream couple.

"you smiled! i saw it, so no denying it! c'mon ki!! just admit that you're soooo down bad for me~" you giggled, eyes turning into little crescents as you smiled.

"i didn't smile! and i'm not that whipped!" he playfully scoffed, pretending not to care.

but deep down, you knew riki did in fact care very much for you, he just preferred to show it through his actions rather than words. you could tell by the way he always bought your favorite drink when you two had study dates, or when he would always hold your hand in crowded spaces so he wouldn't lose you.

and maybe, just maybe, it was because of you. you were the light in his dark world that made him softer around the edges. and that was something he was eternally grateful for.

however, he never knew how to be as bright and cheerful as you were, infecting people with your radiant light.

so that's his dilemma now. he wasn't sure what was going on with you but it was obviously something.

the way your smile didn't quite reach your eyes and the way your lips had a slight frown tugging at them, it concerned him.

so once you two made it back to his house after school, he decided to ask you what was going on.

"sunshine? what's up? you weren't your usual self today," he asks cautiously, his raspy voice still managing to give you butterflies despite your sorrow mood.

"kiki..." was all you managed to get out before feeling tears prick at your eyes. you looked up at riki and he swore he felt his heart shatter. how could he stand seeing his little sunshine so upset?

he quickly pulled you into a tight embrace, adjusting you so you were now on his lap, your head against his chest.

"shhh baby, i've got you, it's okay," he tried his best to comfort you despite not having much experience with these types of situations.

"i-it's my parents...they're a-always fighting and- kiki what if they don't love each other any more?" you sob, looking up at him with tears streaming down your cheeks. you still managed to look gorgeous even when you were crying.

"oh sunshine...i'm so sorry," he whispers, his heart breaking all over again as he wipes the tears from your eyes.

"i-i'm sorry for being such a mess right now.." you cry, feeling guilty for dumping such a heavy situation on riki.

"no no no! baby! i want you to tell me these things! i want to be able to help you and comfort you! why didn't you tell me sooner?" he asked softly, his eyes full of sympathy.

"i didn't want to worry you..i thought that if i was sad, you would be sad..and i didn't want you to be down because of me.." you sniffle, wiping at your eyes.

"baby, you could never burden me with your problems, okay? we overcome these challenges together, alright? i would never forgive myself for just letting you suffer with your own issues without ever knowing what was going on," he says, kissing your temple.

"you bring me so much joy and i know i'm definitely not the most joyful person ever, but i'm so so so grateful for you everyday for being that brightness in my life."

you didn't know how to respond as riki's words made your heart swell with emotions, appreciating how riki opened up his whole heart to you.

"thank you kiki...i love you 3000," you smile weakly, tears welling up in your eyes again. except this time, it was because you were so madly in love.

"always sunshine. i love you 3000 and 1," he says, sealing his words with a kiss on your lips.

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: @en-diaries, @k-films, @k-nets

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ 𝐉𝐢𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @vmpivory, @yuvany, @seozii, @pinknjm, @greentulip, @jomisu, @nxzz-skz, @ancnymcnzjy, @hyukabean, @annybah, @ijustwannareadstuff20, @chaeneu, @17ericas, @firstclassjaylee, @riribelle, @right-person-wrong-time, @cheruphic

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luvkinich · 3 months ago

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my everything

warnings + notes: phainon x reader, fluff, 1,1k words, phainon is whipped for you, minor spoilers to his lore?? i think + my third fic on this account IM CRYING WTF how have i only made 3 fics here art by shenteita on twt

tags: @somniachant

Phainon's past haunts him like a ghost. Memories of losing his family, friends, and hometown keep coming back to him every night he sleeps. Perhaps that’s why he’s unwilling to forge new relationships with people.

However, despite his past haunting him, Phainon finds himself in a predicament. You, a flower shop owner in Amphoreus, catch his attention. You and your passion for flowers make Phainon feel safe and comfortable. Your flower shop isn’t huge like the other famous shops in the city, but it is cozy enough that you wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

The flowers are also one unique aspect of your shop, being the only flower shop in the city. Though, you must say, not that many people like to buy flowers anymore (not even for courting someone, which shocks you to your core).

The door to your shop flings open just as the clock strikes 3 pm, and you see the familiar white-haired figure walk into your shop. It’s a routine for Phainon to visit your shop every evening. Sometimes, you wonder to yourself why a Chrysos Heir would make daily visits to your small flower shop without buying anything, but you can’t bring yourself to question him over something like that.

“Good evening, Y/N,” Phainon gives you a smile, one that melts your heart instantly. “How has your day been?” That’s another thing with Phainon - he always asks about how your day went, and to be honest? You don’t find it bothersome at all. Usually, you find it annoying when people pester you about your day every five minutes, but with Phainon, you find it endearing.

“Good evening, Phainon,” you greet him back. “My day has been… okay, I think? I didn’t have that many customers today, but it doesn’t really bother me that much. Business has been slow for a couple of weeks now that Valentine’s is over.” You look back at your notebook, one that you keep to track customers and sales. “But I still have my regular customers coming in to pick up their flowers. How about you? How’s it going with the Chrysos Heir?”

“Ah,” Phainon lets out a small laugh. “Never been better, I think? Mydei and I had a little sparring match this morning, and of course, I won.” You have a small inkling he might be lying, but you don’t comment on it. “And then I spent the rest of my day in my room. Boring, huh?”

“No, I don’t think so,” you reply. Phainon looks at you, confused. “I mean, ever since the disaster started, you barely got any sleep, right? So I think it’s good you were doing nothing today.”

“Huh,” Phainon says. “Never thought of it that way.” He smiles at you again. “Oh, right! Back to the matter at hand, I need some flowers.”

You blink, surprised. Phainon buying flowers? Now, that’s new. “Oh, what kind of flowers? Are you planning on confessing to someone today?” you tease, hoping it’s not true.

“Um, actually… yes.” Phainon’s response shatters your heart.

Oh… so you do have someone you like. You think to yourself, and you quickly mask your hurt with a shocked expression, not wanting Phainon to feel guilty. “That’s new! So, who’s this lucky person?”

Phainon blushes, and you can't help but feel a twinge of disappointment. “You’ll see later. Now come on, what are some flowers I can buy?”

“Hmm,” you hum, flipping through your notebook containing flower meanings (yes, you still rely on notes; you have a terrible memory). “How about red tulips?” You walk over to the tulips, pick out a bouquet, and hand it to Phainon. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

Phainon’s eyes shine with excitement. “Ah, they’re definitely gorgeous. What do they symbolize?”

“Endless love,” you state. “I think it’s perfect for you and that lucky person.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” Phainon mutters, staring at the flowers as he envisions giving them to the person he loves. “How much are they?”

“They’re on the house,” you reply, and Phainon is about to protest, but you cut him off. “They’re on the house, Phainon. Don’t argue with me now,” you repeat, huffing to mask the hurt. “Now go and confess already!”

Phainon blinks a couple of times before smiling brightly. “Okay, thank you, Y/N. Truly.” He leaves, and as soon as he’s out of sight, you sigh. Another crush of yours failed.

The rest of your day passes more slowly than usual. As expected, no one else comes in after Phainon leaves, so you decide to close the shop early.

As soon as everything is locked up, you’re surprised to see Phainon standing behind you, still holding the red tulips you gave him. “...Phainon? What are you doing here? Oh no, did the confession not go well? Do you want to talk about it?”

“Um,” he starts a bit sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t confess yet, actually.”

“Huh? Why?” you ask, confused. “Did they not show up?”

“No… they’re actually right here,” Phainon says, and when you don’t catch on, he lets out a small laugh. “Y/N, I’m saying I was waiting for you to close the shop so I could confess to you.”

“Oh,” you say, and then it hits you, causing you to gasp. Your cheeks turn red as you cover your mouth. “Wait- huh?!”

“I like you, Y/N-”

“No, wait, stop!” You turn around, covering your face. “I wasn’t- I thought-”

“Was this a bad time...?” Phainon asks innocently, making you turn back around. “Sorry-”

“No, don’t be sorry! I just- I wasn’t expecting this! I really thought you had a crush on someone else, so I felt hurt, and that’s why I gave you those flowers for free, so I wouldn’t have to see you all smiley about them!” you ramble, stopping only when Phainon bursts out laughing. “What’s so funny?!”

“You’re adorable, Y/N,” he says. “So that’s why you made me leave so quickly.” He stretches out his hand holding the flowers towards you. “So? Will you accept me as your boyfriend now that you know this is for you?”

“Phainon, you big dummy,” you sigh, laughing at your own foolishness. “Yes, yes I do.” Phainon smiles so brightly it almost blinds you. You take the flowers from his hands, and even though they're from your own shop and garden, you accept them as if they're from somewhere else. Aeons above, Phainon looks so cute smiling at you like that.

“Since you decided to close the shop early tonight, want to go on a mini-date? We can take a stroll around the city if you’d like,” Phainon suggests. Normally, if anyone else suggested this to you, you'd decline immediately, wanting to go home and tend to your growing plants. But this is Phainon, your boyfriend (you let out a giddy laugh in your head).

“Of course,” you agree. “Where do you want to take me?”

“Hmm, I think we can stop by your favorite restaurant first for some dinner, and then we can go to…” Phainon starts listing almost every date spot in Amphoreus, and you can only look at him with adoration in your eyes.

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maxtermind · 1 year ago

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absolutely loved ‘baby, would i still be your lover’, everyone single one got me in my feels! i was wondering would you consider doing a part 2? whether it ends in angst or fluff

I'll tell you the truth, but never goodbye

★ : summary :: when he accidentally insults you during an argument- aftermath ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris ★ : genre :: hurt/comfort, hints of angst ★ : word count :: 4.3k ★ : a/n :: thank you so much for the love on part 1 💓 some of these have open ending so you can pick whether you'd like to forgive them or not as a reader!! feedback is appreciated :)

( part 1 )

Max Verstappen

You sighed as you sat down to have your morning tea as usual, trying to pretend that nothing was wrong. As if you hadn't spent all night long getting your phone spammed with calls that you were ignoring.

After mindlessly roaming around for a bit, you eventually decided to crash at your best friend’s place. You lazily waved at her as she frantically got ready to leave for work. However, you were on your tiptoe as soon as the door opened.

A body that was possibly sleeping while leaning against the door fell inside and you heard curses that you were quite too familiar with. Your heart clenched at the sight of your boyfriend - or perhaps now, your ex-boyfriend - on his knees, nursing the wound on his head. The ache of seeing him in pain reignited the anguish you thought you had left behind.

“Okay,” you heard your friend murmur. “I'm gonna let you guys get to it.” She was out the door a second later.

You looked at the closed door instead of the man who was desperately trying to make eye contact with you.

“How long have you…” You trailed off before deciding that you didn't want to know.

“As soon as you turned your phone off, Y/N! I've been here since last night.” "Why?" you choked out, the words barely escaping your lips as tears threatened to overflow. His brows furrowed before he ran his hands over his face and got up to sit right next to you. You saw his hand itching toward yours and instinctively pulled it towards your body. "Because I needed to see you in person, to talk." He took another deep breath and you later realized that he was trying to stop himself from crying. “I realize I messed up, baby. I.. I never should have let you walk out.” But his attempt to mend the shattered pieces of your relationship only served to reopen the wounds, your walls instinctively rising in defense,"Talk? You think a talk is going to fix everything?" Max's eyes were filled with a mix of regret and desperation as he reached out for your hand, his fingers trembling slightly. "No, I don't think a talk will magically fix everything," he admitted, his voice raw with emotion.

"But it's a start. I need you to know that I'm truly sorry for what happened. I hate myself for hurting you, for making you doubt how much you mean to me."

You couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze, the pain of the previous night still too fresh in your mind.

“How can I trust you again, Max? How can I be sure that this won't happen again?" Your voice was barely a whisper, filled with the ache of betrayal.

Max's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I know I've messed up, Y/N. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn back your trust. I'll work on my temper, I’ll be better to you, I'll do anything you ask of me. I just need you to give me another chance." “You know you’ve always been the best to me, right? I just can’t believe that instead of talking it out yesterday, you straight up skipped to breaking up wit-” Fresh tears started falling down your cheeks. Max immediately leaned forward to hold you in his arms and you let him because you needed him. But how could you trust him again? How could you be sure that history wouldn't repeat itself? That he won’t throw away your whole relationship just because the anger got a hold of him? As Max held you close, you felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over you. Part of you wanted to push him away, to scream and shout at him for causing you so much pain. But another part of you craved his warmth, his touch, his presence.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Max whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I know I messed up, and I hate myself for it. I never meant to hurt you, I swear."

You buried your face in his chest, the tears soaking through his shirt as you struggled to make sense of your feelings.

“I just don't know if I can do this anymore, Max," you admitted, your voice muffled against him. Max tightened his embrace, his arms wrapping around you protectively. "I understand," he murmured, his voice gentle. His admission eased your thumping heart a bit, you were glad to have him back. The storm within you finding a momentary calm.

"I made you feel like our relationship was disposable, like breaking up was no big deal. But that couldn't be further from the truth. You're the most important person in my life, baby and the thought of losing you terrifies me. I'll do whatever it takes to make things right between us, to show you just how much you mean to me. I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust if you still want me."

Lewis Hamilton

The weight of Lewis's words hung heavy in the air, suffocating you as you retreated into the sanctuary of your bedroom. Tears streamed down your cheeks unchecked, your heart aching with a pain you couldn't quite comprehend. How had a day that started with such a promise turned into this? You buried your face in your hands, the sting of Lewis's words feeling like acid running through your veins.

Outside the door, the silence was deafening, broken only by the muffled sound of your sobs. Lewis stood frozen in place, his mind racing as he replayed the exchange in his head.

He couldn't believe the words that had escaped his lips, couldn't fathom how he had allowed his frustration to morph into such hurtful remarks.

Minutes stretched into eternity as Lewis grappled with the weight of his actions, the gravity of his words settling like a lead weight in his chest.

He wanted to reach out to you, to apologize and make things right, but his feet remained rooted to the spot, paralyzed by the magnitude of his mistake.

Inside the bedroom, you were consumed by a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Anger, hurt, betrayal - they all swirled together into an ugly monster, threatening to engulf you whole.

How could the man you loved, the man who had always been your rock, turn on you with such venom?

But beneath the anger and hurt, there was a flicker of doubt, a gnawing fear that maybe Lewis's words held a grain of truth. Maybe you were too insecure, too needy, too demanding. Maybe you were asking for too much, expecting him to be there for you when he had his own priorities and responsibilities. Maybe-

The sound of a soft knock on the door snapped you out of your thoughts, and you looked up to see Lewis standing there, his expression wrought with regret and guilt. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the unspoken apology hanging heavy in the air. Looking at him distraught made your chest feel worse. How could he make you feel ten fold worse than this and not feel a thing?

"I'm sorry," Lewis finally whispered, his voice barely audible. "I didn't mean what I said. I was out of line, and I know I hurt you. Please, let me make it right." He rushed through the words.

His words pierced through the haze of your pain, and you felt a bit of heaviness leaving your body. He crossed the room in a few strides, dropping to his knees in front of you, his eyes pleading for forgiveness.

"I don't know what came over me," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion before your boyfriend took your hand away from your face and kissed your cheeks. "I was so caught up in my own frustrations that I lashed out at you, and I hate myself for it. You don't deserve to be treated that way, especially not by me."

You studied his face, searching for any sign of insincerity, but all you saw was genuine remorse and regret. And despite the pain still raw in your chest, you couldn't deny the love you felt for him, the longing to mend what had been broken between you. “You hurt me,” you whispered but didn’t push him away as he laid down with you, holding you close to his chest. Some of your resolve wavering when you felt his fast heartbeat. “I wanted you there so much.” He nodded as he shushed you, his own eyes dropping tears. “I’m so so sorry, baby. I can't even begin to express how deeply I regret the way I acted the whole day, I know you deserve so much more but-” You shifted slightly, knowing all that you wanted right now was comfort, you didn't want to forgive him or minimize the weight of his actions. "I don't know if I can right now," you replied, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions.

Lewis's eyes brimmed with tears as he whispered, "Please don't shut me out. I can't bear the thought of losing you."

You felt a pang of guilt at the pain evident in his voice. "I just need some time to process everything," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I understand," Lewis replied, his tone filled with sorrow. "But please know that I'm here whenever you're ready to talk."

You nodded, silently acknowledging his words as you allowed yourself to be enveloped in his comforting embrace.

"I promise to make it up to you," Lewis vowed earnestly, his voice laced with determination. "I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust."

"I want to believe you," you admitted quietly, your heart heavy with uncertainty. Everything was a little too raw right now and your emotions were all over the place.

"I'll spend every moment proving it to you," Lewis declared, his eyes locking with yours in a silent vow.

“I was thoughtless and cruel today, and I never should have let those words leave my lips. You are not insecure, you are strong and resilient, baby. You deserve so much better than the hurtful words I spoke. Please know that I can’t lose you, Y/N. I will work tirelessly to regain your trust and rebuild what I have so carelessly shattered. You mean the world to me, and I will spend every moment striving to be worthy of your love.”

Carlos Sainz

As you sat nervously in your childhood home, the familiar sights and sounds providing little comfort, your mind raced with thoughts of disappointment and hurt.

For the third time, Carlos had failed to join you in meeting your parents, leaving you to face their questioning looks and unspoken concerns alone. You had rehearsed what you would say to them, how you would explain his absence, but each time, the words caught in your throat, choked by a mixture of frustration and sadness. For the past few days since you walked out of your apartment, you had been ignoring Carlos’ attempts to reconcile with you. The calls and texts he spammed you with were ignored and curses left your mouth as soon as your mind went back to the day of the argument, bringing unwanted tears to your eyes.

In the passing, you saw a Ferrari conference being conducted and as much as you wanted to reach out and talk it out with him, your heart did flips that you were sure you should have visited a doctor for.

Your parents, ever perceptive, noticed your unease as you fidgeted with the napkin in your lap, casting worried glances in your direction. You tried to muster a reassuring smile, but it faltered, betraying the turmoil within you.

How could you explain to them that the man you loved couldn't find the time to meet them, despite his promises and assurances? "What's wrong, sweetie?" your mom asked, concern evident in her voice.

You sighed, hesitating for a moment before replying, "It's Carlos... He like…"

Your dad's brow furrowed. "Is everything okay?"

You tried to muster a reassuring smile. "Yeah, he said that he got caught up with work. You know how busy he is with his racing and all..." Your dad’s brows furrowed when you trailed off, about to ask you what exactly you meant but just as you were steeling yourself to broach the subject, the doorbell rang, startling you from your thoughts.

Your heart sank as you realized it was likely a neighbor stopping by to meet you since you don’t visit that often, you stood up to go greet them. But then, to your disbelief, you heard his voice drifting through the door, before you saw your boyfriend standing right behind it. Your head titled in confusion and you drew a breath that took most of the stress from the previous days away from your body.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, his tone apologetic yet determined. Carlos took your hand and kissed it lightly,"Traffic was a nightmare." “What about the conference that you-” “You’re the most important person in my life, Y/N.” He cut you off before pulling you in and walking to the dining room that was in his vision. As if that was the answer to your question.

You turned to face him, your eyes wide with surprise and a flicker of hope. There he was, looking slightly disheveled but undeniably earnest, his gaze that locked on yours was as if it was seeking forgiveness. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the regret etched in the lines of his face.

Your parents exchanged a glance, their expressions softening as they took in the sight of Carlos standing before them.

Despite their reservations about his repeated absences, they couldn't deny the genuine affection that Carlos held in his eyes when he looked at you.

Before you could find the words to respond, Carlos took a step forward, his hand reaching out tentatively. "I'm really sorry, both of you," he said, addressing your parents directly.

"I know how important this is to you, and I should have made more of an effort to be here on time."

His words hung in the air, a silent acknowledgment of his shortcomings and a pledge to do better. You felt a surge of emotion welling up inside you, a mixture of relief, gratitude, and a glimmer of renewed faith in your relationship. "Well, we're just glad you could make it," your dad said, offering Carlos a handshake.

"Thank you for coming, Carlos," your mother said, her voice warm yet cautious. "We understand that life gets busy, but it's important to make time for the people who matter most."

Carlos nodded, his expression earnest as he met her gaze. "I couldn't agree more. Family means putting in effort, I promise to make it up to all of you."

As you sat down to dinner, the atmosphere was tinged with a sense of reconciliation and hope. Your hand still intertwined with his as you saw him charm your family. Despite the rocky start, Carlos's presence brought a newfound sense of unity and understanding to the table. And as you shared stories and laughter, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity to mend what had seemed irreparably broken.

In that moment, you realized that love wasn't just about grand gestures or sweeping declarations—it was about the everyday moments of connection and compromise, the willingness to forgive and grow together.

And as you looked at Carlos, his eyes filled with determination and affection, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, hand in hand.

Charles Leclerc

Charles had apologized right after he had said those words and though you had both fallen back into routine, the underlying bitterness and resentment was still present. You weren’t the one initiating any kind of affection from your side and every time Charles was initiating anything, you half assed your way out of it. Was it childish? Probably. But you were still not comfortable with how easily you had forgiven Charles, burying your hurt just to avoid conflict once again despite knowing deep down that he has hurt you probably more than anyone else ever has. These thoughts were running through your head as you sat beside Charles, your heart still heavy with the weight, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. Especially because Charles seemed distant, his mind preoccupied with thoughts, that you couldn't help but wonder what exactly they were. Why had he even asked to go on a date today? To break up with you? Suddenly, Pippa appeared, her presence causing the knot to form in your stomach to get tighter. She approached with a confident stride, a charming smile gracing her lips as she greeted Charles with a hug.

"Hey, Charlie!" Pippa exclaimed, her eyes flickering briefly in your direction before returning to Charles. "Long time no see!"

Charles returned her hug, though his embrace seemed somewhat forced. "Hey, Pippa. Yeah, it's been a while."

You observed their interaction closely, your unease growing with each passing moment. Pippa's presence always seemed to unsettle you, and you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to their friendship than met the eye. Was he gonna break up with you in public and confess his years long feelings for Pippa? Charles glanced at you, his expression softening as he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. "I was just out with Y/N today."

You couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth at his actions, his affectionate gesture soothing some of the tension that had been building between you.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," Pippa said, offering you a friendly smile. "Sorry I didn’t see you next to Charlie."

You returned her smile, though it didn't quite reach your eyes and managed to reply without gagging. "Nice to meet you, Pippa." Charles tightened his grip on your hand, silently reassuring you of his presence and support. "We were just grabbing a coffee," he explained, his gaze flickering between you and Pippa. "Care to join us?"

Pippa hesitated for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly as she glanced at you before turning back to Charles. "Actually, I was hoping we could catch up alone, if that's okay."

You felt a pang of anxiety at her words, a sense of foreboding settling in the pit of your stomach. Despite your reservations, you nodded, forcing a smile as you released Charles's hand. It was better to walk away yourself than to have Charles dismiss you.

"Of course," you said, though your voice sounded strained even to your own ears. "I'll wait for you outside."

Charles shot you an alarmed look as you stood up,”I’ll see you in a few.” Charles’ hand lingered on yours for a moment longer before you reluctantly let go and made your way to the door.

You leaned against your car and enjoyed the wind for a second. You couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of the exchange between your boyfriend and his best friend sitting inside.

You were half scared to find them kissing or something but, instead a sense of confusion washed over you as you watched the way Pippa was angrily point a finger at Charles and scream at him.

It was a second later when she stormed out before making her way towards you.

"Is he doing this because of you?!" Pippa's accusatory tone sent a shiver down your spine, her words hitting too close to home.

Before you could even process what was happening, Charles emerged from the cafe, his expression determined as he approached you and Pippa.

"Go home, Pippa," he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument as he intertwined his hand with yours.

Pippa's eyes blazed with anger, her fists clenched at her sides as she glared at Charles. "You will regret this, Charles!" she spat before storming off, leaving you both standing there in stunned silence.

Once Pippa was out of sight, you turned to Charles, your heart pounding in your chest. "What was that all about?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

Charles sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked at you with apologetic eyes. "I'm sorry you had to witness that, Y/N. Pippa has been... difficult lately."

You frowned, your mind reeling with confusion and frustration. "Difficult how?"

Charles hesitated for a moment, his gaze searching yours as if trying to find the right words. "She's been pushing boundaries, trying to come between us. But I won't let her."

"Hey," he continued, taking your hand in his. "I told Pippa that I wouldn't be spending time with her alone anymore. If she can't accept you, then it's better for us to not be friends at all."

You blinked in surprise, a rush of gratitude flooding through you at his words. "Really?"

Charles nodded, squeezing your hand gently. "Really. You're the most important person in my life, and I won't let anyone come between us."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. "Thank you, Charles. I appreciate you standing up for us."

He smiled softly, squeezing your hand reassuringly. "I'll always stand up for us, Y/N. You mean everything to me."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you threw your arms around him, holding him close. Despite the lingering bitterness and resentment, you couldn't deny the overwhelming love you felt for him in that moment.

Lando Norris

As you stepped out of the taxi, the cool night air enveloped you, offering a moment of respite from the whirlwind of emotions that had engulfed you throughout the evening.

Your heart still felt heavy with the weight of Lando's hurtful words, but beneath the pain, a numbness resided- knowing deep down that you might’ve just broken up with your boyfriend.

Before you could take another step, you heard the sound of hurried footsteps approaching from behind. Turning around, you saw Lando rushing towards you, his eyes filled with remorse and his expression wrought with sorrow. Your hand instinctively went to your chest, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart.

"Y/N, please wait," he called out, his voice pleading as he reached your side, breathless from his haste.

You pulled your face to meet his eyes, uncertainty and wariness etched into your features as you met his gaze. Part of you yearned to turn away, to shield yourself from the pain of his words, but another part couldn't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, he was sincere in his apology.

"Lando," you said softly, your voice tinged with a mixture of hurt and apprehension. You wanted to say more but the damn ball in your throat stopped you doing so.

He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours as he searched for the right words to express the depth of his regret. "I know I messed up, Y/N. I hurt you, and I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am for that."

His words washed over you like a soothing balm, offering a sliver of comfort. But still, you couldn't bring yourself to let go of the hurt that lingered in your heart.

"I should have been there for you tonight, supporting you and showing you how much you mean to me," Lando continued, his voice filled with genuine remorse. "Instead, I let my own selfishness and insecurities get in the way, and for that, I am truly sorry."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to him, the sincerity in his voice echoing the ache in your own heart. You were sure you’ll regret letting go of this amazing relationship without at least attempting to work on it.

Despite the pain he had caused you, you couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to rebuild what had been broken.

"I don't expect you to forgive me right away, Y/N," Lando said softly, his hands shaking and showcasing the intensity of his vulnerability.

"I know I have a lot of work to do to earn back your trust and your love. But please, just give me a chance to make things right. I promise to do whatever it takes to show you how much you mean to me, every single day for the rest of my life."

His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity and remorse, leaving you torn between the desire to hold onto the pain of the past and the hope for a brighter future. As you gazed into his eyes, searching for any hint of insincerity or deceit, all you found was raw honesty and unwavering devotion.

With a heavy heart and a flicker of hope, you reached out to take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "I don't know if I'm ready to forgive you just yet, Lando," you whispered, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

Lando takes a step closer, gently cupping your face in his hands. "I'll spend every moment proving I'm worthy of your love, Y/N. Let me show you how much you mean to me, starting from this moment. I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust, even if it means giving you the space you need. Just know that I'm here for you, whenever you're ready."

( writing masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request ) ©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

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jasmineoolongtea · 1 year ago

Text

― in between ⋆⭒˚.⋆

― the ways in which they act around you when you're in that in-between stage ༘ ⋆｡˚

contents: gojo x gn!reader, geto x gn!reader, nanami x gn!reader, megumi x gn!reader, yuji x gn!reader, yuuta x gn!reader, headcannons/drabbles, fluff a/n: heavily based on in between by gracie abrams. if she releases it in the secret of us deluxe edition, i might just explode with happiness. btw thank you sm for blowing up my last post, literally insane of you guys and a big kiss to all of you. also genuine question for you guys, do you prefer the layout i have for my headcanons, drabbles or longer fics? i'm trying to see which one you guys prefer

gojo satoru never lets his phone ring for more than a couple seconds when it comes to you. doesn't matter where, when or what it could be about, the second he hears your personalised ringtone or sees your name flash across the top of his screen, he's scrambling to try and answer it as fast he possibly can. he could be in the middle of fighting a curse, deep within the throws of battle with a laser focus on the target in front of him and it all goes out the window the moment you call his phone.

you'll never know about it though. for some reason, satoru keeps this fact to himself like it's the biggest secret in the world. he'll always pick up the phone with a carefree lilt to his voice, sometimes even choosing to tease you for calling him when you could have just texted instead. quietly inside, he thanks the universe for giving him the opportunity to hear your voice again.

"gojo," god, he loves the way you say his name, maybe one day he'll manage to get you to call him satoru. "are you sure you're at home right now?" there's a tinge of concern that permeates your voice and he swears his heart beats twice as fast just thinking about the fact that you might be worried about his well being.

"of course! why'd you ask? don't tell me this is your way of asking to come over right now?" you sigh at his antics and he laughs it off, it's like a routine you two do. he keeps jokingly throwing out these more than friendly offers to your constant dismissal but secretly, he hopes one day that he can stop pretending like they're just that.

there's a loud crash coming from his side of the call which only serves your suspicions as you quip back. "no, gojo. i'm asking because i'm hearing noises like you're beating someone up." he curses faintly under his breath at the curse who's off groaning in pain in the distance after being punted into a wall with a flick of his wrist.

you pause for a second as your voice softens "is this a good time to call because if not i can just-"

"no, no." he cuts you off, "i've got all the time in the world for you."

geto suguru hates it when you cry and hates it even more when you're away. he never thought it would be possible to hear a heart shatter in front of him but that's what he hears every time you shed a tear. you're the definition of angelic as crystalline tears stream down your face and his heart swells with warmth when you allow him to comfort you in his arms.

silently, he pledges to burn down whatever has brought you so much grief and pain as a newfound sense of anger courses through his veins. but before he can do anything, you turn to him with watery eyes and a quivering lip as you ask him to do the unthinkable.

"stay." you plead quietly.

"okay." he responds, a soft, comforting smile gracing his expression. he'll never say it out loud but he knows that it's a request, just like many others, he'll accept a thousand times over if it means he gets to stay close to you, even if it's nothing more than this.

if he thought it was painful to see you cry, then being away from you was possibly a fate worse than death. whenever he has to bear the misfortune of being separated from you, there's a part of him that you've taken away with you and is only reunited when you return to him. absence is said to make the heart grow fonder but he's pretty sure it's humanly impossible for his to do that as you're already the one it beats for. even across the distance of a phone call, it's still not enough for him to hear but not see you as it simply makes him crave your presence next even more.

he's rarely ever let anyone in like this before but the day you see him exhausted, dishevelled and broken and still choose to remain at his side, despite his protests, is the day he's sure that you're the only thing he'll ever want for the rest of his life. you claim it's under the guise of being friendly yet even satoru hasn't seen him like this. you might not know it but he does.

he doesn't say much, instead choosing to bask in this moment of mutual comfort and closeness as even at each other's worst, you both know that you'll still be okay.

nanami kento says that he's new at this when you toe that delicate line between the two of you. you're new to this too. he's scared and you're scared, however, the fear is not enough to stop this. when does the line of being just friends end and the line of calling each other lover start? or is there a secret in-between stage that the two of you are stuck in like right now, where the other waits with bated breath to see if someone takes the risk to make the first move?

you've been friends for as long as you can remember running into each other that one fateful day within the rectangular walls of jujutsu tech. however, there's always been a whisper of something else there as well. it's been something the two of you have danced around with lingering glances and silent, 'accidental' touches in public spaces. the two of you have seen each other through the growing pains of adolescence, nights of broken hearts and awkward first dates and now with an added layer of professionalism as recent coworkers.

when it was nanami who was the one who rescued you from those times when you were left cold and alone in a random restaurant somewhere, you know that you've had enough of waiting on somebody who doesn't care about you. as he places his hand on your shoulder, ushering you into his car with his jacket dropped across your figure with the utmost care, he knows that you deserve so much more than whatever this world can offer and he can only dream of being the one to give this to you.

between you and him, there's an invisible wall of all the labels you have each barricade the other behind in an attempt to hide under a sense of familiarity but now in this moment, you want nothing more than to tear it all down with your bare hands. he reaches out to you, threading his fingers through his and in one swift move, he's done the impossible and has crossed over the holy ground that lies beneath you.

"do you think this is a good idea?" you ask him, your voice barely above a whisper.

"positive." he responds, more resolute in his answer than in anything he has been in his life, and you swear sparks fly when you kiss.

fushiguro megumi loves your eyes and your smile and you love how he talks late at night when there's no one there. it's like a silent agreement between you two, one that you always honour. whenever one of you guys can't sleep, you will go to each other's dorm rooms and knock twice and you guys will stay up and talk until either the sun comes up or you both fall asleep.

it doesn't take a genius to say that megumi is a guarded person, with his walls so high you might even lose sight of him behind them, so it only makes it even more precious when you're able to see him like this in the dim light of the moonlight pouring in through the window. his skin is illuminated by the glow and the way he sounds when he's speaking with his soul bared open in its entirety makes you want to forever immortalise this moment in your memories. you think about all the people who have missed out on experiencing him like this with how his eyes sparkle with passion and how he breaks out into a grin at the slightest joke, leading you to mourn silently for their loss. however, you think of how vulnerable he lets himself become around you, knowing that you'll stay here with him no matter what, and the sweet nothings you hear him whisper to you when he thinks that you've fallen asleep and you realise this a secret you'll want to keep just between these walls.

on the rare occasion that megumi loses his battle to sleep first, he'll silently reach out for your hand and pull you closer to him. you're not sure if he's doing this consciously or unconsciously but you chose not to comment on the growing red glow of his ears as you sink into his touch.

usually, however, what happens is that you fall asleep first as you make your way onto the pillowy fortress that is either of your guys' beds. as you begin to drift off, he's always there watching over you like your very own moody guardian angel. this is the most he'll let himself indulge in your closeness, for now, as he takes comfort in the familiarity of this in-between stage.

itadori yuji tells you that you're beautiful, funny and smart like nothing he's ever seen. he swears on everything he loves in this world, a list that includes you but you don't need to know that yet. you brush off his compliments with practised ease as you try to fight the burning sensation that is spreading across your face. deep down, you can feel your heart fluttering at his compliments but then you think about how you shouldn't be feeling this way about someone who's your friend.

"itadori, you're exaggerating," you say, shoving his shoulder playfully. he pretends to feign hurt, rubbing the impacted area with a slight pout. adorable, you think to yourself before bringing yourself back into the present moment.

"no, it's true really! if you don't believe me, i'll just keep saying it over and over again." he asserts, ever so confident in his stance. it's all true to him, just like how the sky is blue and the grass is green. he'll be the first one to say how pretty, amazing and talented you are in a room full of your biggest supporters and he'll be the first one to say it again when there's no one else.

you roll your eyes half-heartedly at him, trying your best to act nonchalant despite wondering if he might ever feel more for you than your current state of friendship. "you don't say that to your friends. what about nobara, you don't say this to her, do you?"

"yeah, but she isn't you," he responds back. you don't answer him, choosing instead to point out an ice cream stand in the far distance and he lets you tug him along with you. it's okay, he knows that you're scared of whatever lies ahead for you two. he understands that you're worried that he might like you in that way, although he thinks that it's a bit stupid you're still so unsure about it when he wears his heart on his sleeve whenever it comes to you. whatever is it, he'll be happy to go along at your pace, just as long as it means he gets to be by your side like this.

okkotsu yuuta is so good to you and it makes you want it more than everything in between. is it greedy to say that you want more than whatever you two have right now? the longing stares, the lingering touches and the way your faces light up when you spot each other in a crowded room. sure, those were all fine for a bit but how long were you able to survive on just that when he was right there next to you as a constant reminder of the possibility of something more.

you never thought that you would be able to meet someone like him, someone who treats you as if you were the best thing to ever happen with so much care and love radiating from his very being. the way his hand brushes your cheeks when you get even the smallest cuts makes your heart feel like it's about to fall out of your chest with how he takes extra care to scan over your appearance for anything, pausing for a second on your lips. you think to yourself, he must be doing this on purpose, and you want to curse at him for playing with your heart but when he smiles at you with those half-moon eyes, you can feel all of that melting away and more.

the only person you can blame here for your current predicament is yourself really, you were the one who drew the line in the sand when the two of you first met. just friends, you said but in your defence, you had just learned about his history and how cold and empty his has been as well as how much you've been hurt in your own past, so you decided to do what was, at the time, what you thought was best for the both of you. only now, every day you spend with him makes him wish that you would one day wake up and finally take that jump.

yuuta also shares your sentiments, actually ever since he first saw you he knew that you were the one he wanted to live and breathe for, but he doesn't say anything for fear of scaring you off. he knows about your worries, your doubts and your fears and as much as he wants to tell you that you should throw caution into the wind and that he'll take that step for you, he also knows that he can't. so for now he'll do his best to quell your nerves with a gentle hand on the small of your back and a fleeting kiss on your cheek that you'll someday trust in yourself and him to fall headfirst into this new unknown territory, outside of this in between.

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jjkamochoso · 5 months ago

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hii im so glad your requests are open, ive had this idea for a while and couldnt wait until you opened them

since you wrote about both jjk men and reader describing their type my idea is that maybe before reader and jjk men got together reader had to describe their type and reader described something totally different from jjk men lol (maybe it was before they even became friends) and men find out and get insecure so reader has to comfort them

Oh my gosh I love this!!! Thanks for sending this request in, I had an awesome time writing it!! I hope you enjoy🫶❤️

JJK Men When Your Type Was Something Totally Different From Them

Very Light Angst, Fluff

JJK men x gn!reader

Warnings: none

You and your boyfriend were sitting at a table in a cafe one day, enjoying drinks and each other’s company, when all of a sudden the serene atmosphere was shattered.

“Oh my god! Y/n, it’s been so long!”

A friend you hadn’t seen in a few years greeted you excitedly as you invited them to sit at your table.

“I can’t stay long, I have an appointment to get to,” they said as they eyed your boyfriend and smirked. “Who’s this?”

You introduced your friend to your boyfriend and they exchanged pleasantries. You and your friend then caught up for a bit until they checked the time on their phone.

“Seriously, two look really cute together,” your friend said, giving you a tight hug goodbye as they readied to take their leave. “Although, y/n, isn’t it funny how your type changed? I remember you told me awhile ago, when you were single, that you were into…”

Yuji:

“…super tall guys with black hair. Real dark, mysterious types.”

After your friend had left the cafe, Yuji was sporting a frown where a smile usually rested.

“Are you alright?” you asked.

“Mhm,” he replied, pushing the food around his plate with his spoon.

“You’re not very convincing, Itadori,” you teased, poking his arm softly.

“Do you think I’m cute?” he blurted out, taking you by surprise.

“Of course I do,” you responded, dumbfounded. “Why would you think otherwise?”

“Your friend,” he said, “they said your type is the total opposite of me.”

“Yuji, the last time I talked to them was three years ago. I hadn’t met you yet.”

Yuji looked up from his food, his face immediately brightened. “Really? Does that mean you’ve changed your mind since then? Because of me?”

“Yep, the only type I have is my fun loving, big hearted boyfriend Yuji Itadori, I promise,” you told him, leaving a kiss on his grinning cheek.

Megumi:

“…carefree boys with light colored hair and eyes.”

When your friend had gone and it was just you and Megumi again at your table, you noticed a change in his mood.

"Is something bothering you?"

"No," Megumi replied sharply, causing your extending hand to retreat back to your side of the table, not wanting to bother him. He sighed. "I just... why are you with me?"

Your eyebrows raised in shock. "Why would you ask that?"

"I'm not affectionate, I don't know what I'm doing in a relationship. I'm not even your type." He whispered the last sentence, his eyes burning a hole through his coffee mug.

"Oh Megumi, ignore my friend. The last time I've brought up anything with them that had to do with crushes or "types" was years ago, long before I laid eyes on you. I love you because you're you and I wouldn't want you any other way."

"I guess I could try being more carefree if you want," he mumbled, his cheeks turning a pale pink.

"I could sooner see you bleaching your hair," you replied, laughing softly as Megumi sent an annoyed look your way.

Yuta:

“…overly confident boys with blonde hair."

"Geez, I guess I'm not your type at all, then, huh?" Yuta wondered when your friend was out of sight, anxiously picking at his jacket sleeve.

"You weren't my type three years ago when I talked to my friend last, no," you replied, not wanting to lie to him, "but that doesn't matter. You're absolutely my type now. I don't think there's a boy more handsome or perfect for me than you are."

Yuta's face sported a red tint from him blushing at your words. "Do you really mean that?"

"Of course I do, my love," you said, leaning over the table and pressing a quick kiss to his lips, leaving him more flustered still.

Inumaki:

“…guys who were super talkative and tall.”

Right as your friend left your table, you watched as Toge pulled his phone out.

"Let me stop you right there," you said, gently guiding the phone from his hands to the table, spying the dreaded, "I'm sorry I can't talk to you, you deserve more" note you knew he had already started typing. "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me and I don't want you to ever forget that. What my friend said, that was my type years ago, way before I knew a guy like you existed. I couldn't ask for a better boyfriend than you."

Toge blinked slowly at you before picking his phone back up.

"You better be erasing that original message because you know I don't care that you can't really speak," you said sternly, earning a meek thumbs up from the boy sitting across from you. When he passed his phone back over to you, you couldn't help the laugh that escaped your throat as you read what he wrote.

While we're out, should I buy a pair of high heels?

Noritoshi:

“…extremely tall, tan, and muscular men.”

“Great. That sounds just like Todo,” grumbled Noritoshi after your friend left, taking a sip of his tea.

“I didn’t even know him back then,” you replied, ignoring the urge to roll your eyes at his jealousy. “Sure, I had a type, but that doesn’t mean I have to stick with it. You’re the most handsome man I know and you look nothing like that.”

“Do you promise I look nothing like Todo?” questioned Noritoshi, stifling a laugh.

“I swear.”

He gave you a gentle squeeze of your hand. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Todo:

“…skinny, short, pale guys.”

"That's definitely not what you said when I asked your type," Aoi said, an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

"I can't believe my friend brought that up," you groaned. "Back then, yeah, I was into super thin guys, but that all changed a few years later, right before I met you."

"Are you sure all my muscles don't bother you?" he teased, flexing his arm as he reached across the table to caress your cheek.

Your face warmed at his gesture. "I'm sure," you choked out, "but I wouldn't be opposed to you showing off your arms more often just so I can be 100% positive."

Aoi let out a hearty laugh as you sank further into your seat, flustered by your handsome boyfriend.

Ino:

“…super buff guys with dark hair.”

Ino kept his focus on his drink for a long time after your friend had spilled those details about you, obviously bothered that he looked nothing like that.

"Hey," you said after agonizing minutes of silence, "please don't take that to heart, that was my type a long time ago."

Ino looked up at you with an expression akin to a kicked puppy. "But has it changed? If I'm not your type... why would you want to be with me?"

"Ino," you said, standing up from your side of the booth and sliding into his, "I wouldn't date you if I didn't find you handsome. You are so kind and loving, and I think you're the absolute hottest guy on the planet. Maybe even the universe."

He dramatically pulled his beanie over his face as he dropped his head into his hands. "Now I have to compete with dark haired, shredded aliens?!"

Consoling him took much longer than anticipated!

Gojo:

“…quiet, short guys with facial hair.”

Satoru couldn't hold back his reaction when he heard that.

"That's your type?" he asked, shaking with laughter. "What the hell are you doing with me, then?"

"Satoru, stop," you pleaded, clearly embarrassed. "The last time I saw that friend was years ago. I was a whole different person."

"Do you not find me pretty?" he pouted, jutting out his bottom lip and batting his eyelashes.

"You're the prettiest man I've ever had the privilege to meet," you responded, playfully tapping his nose with your finger. "It would be interesting to see you with a mustache or something though."

You both got quiet, imagining what Satoru would look like with facial hair.

"Sorry I ever brought that up," you said.

"Blegh!" he replied, sticking his tongue out. "You owe me another pastry later because I lost my appetite picturing that."

Geto:

“…men with light hair and soft facial features.”

Your friend had walked away, leaving Suguru to mull over their words.

"Am I too... sharp for you, darling?" he asked, trying to joke but was clearly affected.

"That was my type forever ago, Suguru," you told him, earnestly taking hold of his hand that was resting on the tabletop. "You've been the only man for me ever since I met you. No one can compare to your beauty."

"Hmm," he mused, taking a slow sip of his drink, "I must say I enjoy hearing you praise me in such a way. All is forgiven."

"Good. I will love only you for the rest of my days, no matter how many round faced, blonde haired men try to whisk me away."

You witnessed his fingers tighten around the tea cup in his grasp. "I'd like to see them try."

Nanami:

“…men with long, dark hair and blue eyes.”

You paid no mind to your friend's words, knowing they were just reminiscing over something silly before they left. Kento, on the other hand, was busy spiraling as he ate his croissant.

"Everything okay?" you asked him, noticing the faraway look in his eyes.

“Do you not… find me attractive?”

You almost spit out your drink in shock. "I'm sorry?"

He wore a sheepish expression. "Your friend said that your type was men with long, dark hair and blue eyes. I don't fit that description at all."

"My "type" that they brought up was from many, many years ago," you said, rubbing your thumb against his hand to console him. "The only thing I find attractive now, after having met you, is a certain Kento Nanami. Brown eyes, short blonde hair, and all."

"I'm sorry for getting worked up over nothing," he said.

"You don't have to apologize for that," you told him, "it just shows how much you truly care. I love you for that."

You gave him a small peck on the lips before you two went back to savoring your time together.

Choso:

“…super preppy guys with blonde hair and green eyes.”

The only thing that ran through Choso's mind was confusion.

"I don't look anything like that," he uttered suddenly, tilting his head.

"I know, I was into those kinds of guys years ago," you confessed.

"But not anymore?" he asked with a hopeful lilt in his tone.

"Not anymore," you confirmed, sending him a small smile to ease his nerves that were noticeably running rampant at the thought that you didn't find him attractive. "My type now is guys with dark hair in two buns and an adorable black mark across their nose."

Choso let out a relieved sigh as you giggled and continued eating your food.

Toji:

“…short men with long blonde hair.”

As soon as your friend got up from the table, Toji had a disgruntled expression on his face. "Care to add anything to that?"

"I liked guys who looked like that when I talked to my friend last, which was, admittedly, a very long time ago," you explained, getting a grunt of displeasure in response. "And then I met you and I realized what my actual type was."

"And what's that?" he asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

You leaned in over the table, getting as close as you could to your handsome boyfriend.

"A real man," you all but whispered, eyeing him playfully. Toji's eyes widened ever so slightly before falling back into place, his lips transforming to a smirk.

"Sounds like your friend had it all wrong, then," he replied, winking at you.

#yuji itadori x reader #megumi x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #inumaki x reader #noritoshi kamo x reader #aoi todo x reader #takuma ino x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #nanami x reader #choso x reader #toji x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x reader fluff #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk x gn!reader #jjk x y/n

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meganwritesfanfics · 2 months ago

Text

Highway Don't Care (Dr Jack Abbott x reader)

Dr. Jack Abbott x reader

Word Count: 4002

TRIGGER WARNING: Discussion of car wreck, discussion of injuries, angst. I know nothing about medicine.

Companion Story: As it Was

“Why are we not taking my truck again?” Jack yawned as he stretched out as much as he could in the cramped Prius.

“Because someone decided to work a shift the day before we left for vacation, and is currently running on 2 hours of sleep.” Y/N laughed. “And you know that I don’t like driving the truck.”

“You can put in a chest tube without blinking but you are still scared of driving a stick.” He laughed.

“Will you just sleep, you are too sassy when you are sleep deprived and we will not survive the 3 hour drive if you keep acting like this.”

“Fine! But I would be much more comfortable in my truck and not in your toy car.” He teased.

“Jack, you forget I can murder you and make it look like an accident.”

“You took an oath to do no harm Doctor.”

“I think they would understand.”

Jack smiled as he reached over and gently placed his hand on her check and she leaned into his touch.

“I love you so much.” He said and her heart swelled. She and Jack had been together for over five years, but everyday she still felt so lucky to have him in her life.

“I love you too you old grump.” She said as she turned to look at him taking him in. “Now sleep.”

“As you wish” He teased quoting her favorite movie as he closed his eyes.

Y/N giggled.

She barely had turned back to look at the road, when she felt the impact of the car, and everything went black

*******

Jack woke with a groan, every part of his body hurt. He had blood on the side of his head.

“Y/N,” He grumbled as he tried to get his eyes to focus. All he could see was the shattered glass of the windshield. “Y/N” he said again, hoping for a response. He could feel the ever familiar sense of dread washing over him. “Please,” He whispered as he slowly turned to look at Y/N.

His heart stopped as he saw her. Her side of the car was absolutely caved in there was shattered glass all over her lap and her face was covered in blood. And she didn’t look like she was moving or breathing.

“Y/N!” He screamed as he tried to reach over to her, but the seat belt locked him in place. “Fuck!” Quickly he reached down to his pants pocket to grab his pocket knife. Jack winched in pain as he could tell his wrist was fractured, but he pushed past the pain to cut through his seat belt and leaned over to check on Y/N. “Sweatheart, open your eyes for me.” He pleaded as he held out a shaking hand and felt for a pulse.

“No,” He gasped when he didn’t feel one. “Y/N, don’t do this.” And in that moment he fully kicked into doctor mode. He quickly reached over and sliced through her seat belt, one hand supporting her head. “Y/N, come on, I need you to wake up.” The minute she was free Jack started to pull her out of the car. His whole body screamed with pain but he pushed it down knowing that Y/N needed him.

The minute he got her out and laid down on the wet grass, he started compressions.

“Come on Y/N.” He kept repeating. His wrist felt like it was on fire as he put all of his body weight into his hands for the compressions.

“Is she alright?” A voice called. “I’ve called 911, they are on their way.”

Jack didn’t respond, his whole focus was on getting Y/N’s heart pumping again.

“The other driver barely has a scratch on him,” The bystander called. “He is loaded though, there are open cans of beer in his passenger seat.”

Rage rushed over Jack as he looked up from giving rescue breaths.

“What?” He growled. “He was drunk.”

“Yeah the car reaks. Who the hell is getting drunk at 10am in the morning?”

Jack’s whole body shook, and if the love of his life wasn’t hanging on by a thread, and his hands weren’t the only thing keeping her alive at that moment, he knew that he would be on top of that bastard ripping him to shreads.

It felt like hours before he finally heard the sound of the sirens growing louder as they headed his way.

“Do you hear that baby, the ambulance is on it’s way. We will be back to the Pitt soon, and Robby’s working today, he will fix everything.” He soothed mostly talking to himself trying to keep himself from spiraling.

“Dr Abbott?” A voice said and he turned to see that he recognized the paramedics.

“Y/N isn’t breathing and she currently doesn’t have a pulse, we need to keep going with compression and…” He started rambling a bit.

“Are you ok?”

“Don’t worry about me, we need to save her.” He snapped as one of them took over on compressions.

The exhaustion and pain was starting to catch up with him as they all loaded into the back of the ambulance.

As he watched the parametric work on Y/N, Jack could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He couldn’t lose her. He wouldn’t survive it.

Quickly he pulled out his phone, that miracuriously wasn’t damaged in the crash. He mindlessly called Robby his eyes never leaving Y/N’s pale form.

“Brother, you haven’t even been gone from this place for a full 4 hours, what are you doing calling. I thought you and Y/N were heading up to the cabin this weekend.” Robby teased

“Robby,” Jack started his voice cracking. But he could hear the sound of the intercom calling in the incoming ambulance.

“Listen I have to go we have…” Robby started.

“It’s me, I’m coming in the ambulance.” Jack snapped.

Robby froze. “What?”

“Y/N and I got in a car wreck. Some drunk bastard hit us.”

“Are you…”

“I’m fine, but Robby, Y/N she’s… God… I had to do compression until the ambulance showed up, and she still not… I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“We will be ready when you get here. Jack. We are going to do all we can.” Robby said but he felt like he was going to lose it. Jack and Y/N were the closet thing he had to family. And he knew that Jack worshiped the ground that Y/N walked on. He had never seen someone more devoted to another person in his whole life. And he also knew that Y/N was incredibly good for Jack. The change that Robby had seen in his friend since the two had been together was amazing. He didn’t even want to think about what would happen if they lost Y/N.

It only took the ambulance around 10 minutes to get to Pittsburgh Truma Medical Center and as they rolled in Jack could see the entire team waiting for them.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you are not ok.” Robby snapped watching as Jack limped in, covered in blood.

“Robby, she needs you, please don’t worry about me. Y/N needs you.” He pleaded and Robby had never heard his friend sound so broken before.

Robby nodded. “Dr Mohan will you take Dr Abbott to a room to check him over.”

“No Robby I need to be with her I need…”

“Jack you know you can’t. You are hurt. Please go with Samira.”

Jack looked over at Y/N who was in trauma one already and was surrounded by people working on her.

Jack just nodded as he limped behind Dr. Mohan following her as she brought him into room.

“I think I’ve got a fractured wrist.” He started as he hoisted himself onto the gurney wincing with pain.

“You are limping pretty bad, does your leg hurt?’ Mohan asked.

“My leg always hurts.” He snapped back, he know he shouldn’t take everything out on Mohan, she was just trying to help. But all he wanted was to be back next to Y/N. He needed to be useful in some capacity or he was going to lose his mind.

“Does it hurt more than usual?” Mohan continued. She had only worked with Dr. Abbott a handful of times, but she knew enough that he got defensive and standoffish when he was stressed. Not that he wasn’t always standoffish.

He sighed. “Yeah,” He reached down and started to take off his prosthetic. “I think my prosthetic pushed back into my leg in the crash.” When he pulled the prosthetic off he coud see that there was quite a bit of blood. “Fuck.”

While Mohan worked on Dr. Abbott, Robby was working on Y/N. She had broken ribs, and some internal bleeding from the wreck as well as a shattered femur.

“I think she has a collapsed lung.” Langdon said.

“Fuck,” Robby sighed. “Is Garcia on her way down?”

“She’s stuck in surgery, she said she will get down as soon as she can.”

“I don’t know how long Y/N has to wait.”

“I know boss, I’m going to put in a chest tube, give her the best chance. Have you checked in on Abbott?”

“Mohan is with him.” Robby said and he didn’t know if he could face his friend again without having any good news to share.

“He’s probably losing his mind, I know I would be if this was Abby.” Langdon said his voice cracking. Every doctor’s worst nightmare is their own loved ones coming in and their inability to help them.

“Robby,” Dana said popping into the room. “They just brought in the other driver. .350 blood alcohol, small lacerations on his arms from the air bag, but that’s it.”

“Fuck,” Robby sighed. “Do not let Abbott know he’s here, and we need to stick security outside his room, I’m sure the police will want to talk to him.”

“How is she?”

Robby just shook his head as he ran his hands over his face. “It’s touch and go, she needs surgery but everyone is tide up. I don’t know what he is going to do if we lose her.”

“Hey, don’t think like that, not yet. That girl is a fighter, lord knows she has to be in order to put up with Jack.” Dana said and Robby cracked a smile.

“Will you go check in on the other driver, if I go in there, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“And you don’t think I won’t smother him with a pillow. That’s our girl in there.” Dana said seriously tears in her eyes. “I’ll send one of the med students. I’ll make it Santos, Lord knows that girl could frighten a nun.”

“Robby!” Langdon yelled as he burst out of the trauma bay. “She’s coding.”

“Shit,” Robby ran in. “What happened!”

“We had her back and stable, but then she started seizing.”

“God call Nuro, she most likely had some severe head trauma. And where the fuck is Garcia!”

After being patched up and told that he needed to stay off his leg for a few days to allow it to heal, Abbott sat in his hospital room, running through scenerio after scenarios of all the injuries Y/N could have because of the crash. And he kept cursing himself for picking up a shift the day before. If he hadn’t he could have driven, and it would be him in that room not his girl. Y/N didn’t deserve this. Not after putting up with him for so long. He knew he could be an absolutely menace to live with. Some days he would come home from work and not want to utter a word to anyone. Other times, he needed to hold her as close to him as possible. She was he anchor. She kept him going.

“Jack,” A voice said and his head snapped up to see Dana making her way in.

“How is she, is she ok?” He rambled his eyes wild.

“Robby is still working on her, so is Langdon.” She sighed as she walked up to his placing her hand on his back, as she rubbed circles. “How are you holding up?”

“I’ve got a fracture wrist, but Dr Mohan’s got this temporary brace on, so it feels better, and my prosthetic cut into my leg, but she’s got that wrapped up as well. She wants me to get a head CT but I…”

“I read your chart Jack, but how are you doing?” She asked looking into his eyes.

“I…” And finally the flood gates broke. “I can’t lose her Dana.” He sobbed.

“Oh darlin’” Dana wrapped her arms around him.

“She’s my whole world, and I know I don’t deserve her, hell she deserves far better than me, but I can’t lose her not like this. It’s my fault. I took the shift last night, and Y/N didn’t want me to drive because I didn’t get much sleep. And she won’t drive the truck so we had to take her stupid fucking prius. It should be me Dana.”

“Jack Abbott, don’t you dare talk like that.” Dana scolded. “That girl loves you so much. She would be so angry at you talking like this. And you know that the only person whose fault this is, is that drunk bastard who hit you.”

Jack’s head snapped up and his eyes were filled with rage.

“Is he here, did they bring that fucker here.”

“Jack, you know I can’t tell you that.”

“Y/N could die, and that fucker doesn’t even have a scratch on him.”

“Jack,” Robby said as he walked in the room.

“Michael, how is she?”

Robby’s jaw clenched as he pulled a chair closer so he could sit in front of his friend.

“No, don’t do that. Just tell me.” Jack snapped. “Is she alive?”

“She’s alive, but it’s not looking good Jack. She came in with a collapsed lung, internal bleeding, her left femur is shattered and we think she has a brain bleed.”

Jack let out a shaking breath. He knew he should ask more questions, but he couldn’t form words.

“She is going to head up to surgery, did you want to see her before she heads up.” Robby asked.

“Yes.” He said as he reached for his prosthetic.

“Jack, let me get you a wheel chair. Dr. Mohan said…” Dana started.

“I’ll be fine.” He snapped as he stood up wincing slightly from the pain but he limped his way out into the hall and to trauma one.

The minute he laid eyes on her, the seasoned trauma doctor froze. He had seen so many horrific injuries in his time both in the service and as a trauma doctor, but nothing could have prepared him for seeing Y/N lying there looking lifeless. Tubes running all around her and the intubation tube running down her throat. She was still covered in blood and bruises but Jack couldn’t help but think that she still looked absolutely stunning.

“Are you ok?” Robby said laying his hand on Abbott’s back.

“No. I won’t be until I know she’s going to survive this.” Jack sighed as he walked into room and in just a few strides was by Y/N’s side her cold hand tightly in his grasp.

“Y/N, I’m here.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “You are going to be just fine. You have to be. You cannot leave me. What happened to you taking care of me when I turn senile.” He tried to laugh but it sounded more like a sob. Behind him he could feel the eyes of all the med students and nurses staring at him. But he didn’t care. “You have to pull through. You fight, you fight harder than you have ever fought before. You are so fucking strong. You can beat this. Just come back to me.”

“We are ready for her.” Garcia said quietly.

“I’ll be here when you wake up. I love you so god damn much.” He kissed her forehead again.

The minute Y/N was wheeled out of the room, Jack felt his knees buckle and he collapsed. Luckily Robby was waiting behind with a wheelchair.

“Thank you for all you have done for her Robby. You gave her a fighting chance.” Jack said.

“Don’t thank me, it was your quick work after the wreck that really saved her.” Robby said as he started to wheel Jack out.

“I don’t want to be here anymore… I want to go home. Why won’t you let me leave.” A voice yelled across the Pitt.

Jack looked up to see what was clearly a very drunk man argueing with Ahmad.

“That’s him.” Jack growled and he was up before Robby even had a chance to stop him.

“Jack don’t!” Robby screamed. “Ahmad stop him!”

Ahmad quickly turned just in time to catch Jack as he he lunged for the guy.

“It should be you up there getting surgery. You hear me you piece of shit! How is it that you walked away with a few scratches, and the greatest woman I have ever known might die!” He screamed. “I should kill you.”

“Jack stop.” Robby said as he finally reached him grabbing him and pulling him back.

“He did this Robby. He’s the reason Y/N could die.”

“I know, I know Jack. The police are on their way.”

“It’s not enough, it won’t be enough if she dies.”

“I don’t even know who you are man.” The guy slurred and for a moment Robby thought about letting Jack have at him. But just in that moment two officers came in, ushering the drunk man back into his room to ask him questions.

“If she dies Robby, I swear to God I will kill him.” Jack said as he started to stagger. Robby quickly ushered Dana to bring the wheelchair back over.

“You will have to get in line. Everyone in this hospital has already called first dibs,” Robby said trying to lighten the mood. “Now, we need to get you up for a head CT.”

“I do not need a CT, my head is fine I…”

“At the very least humor me, I would like to know if your ego shows up on that CT since you got such a big head.” Robby teased and for the first time all morning, Jack cracked a small smile.

***********

It was hours before any new came about Y/N. Everyone kept checking in on Jack, trying to make sure he was staying preoccupied. They found on head CT that he has a slight concussion, but nothing that was concerning. Robby would pop in and run through all the patients they had so far, he knew that Jack needed to work in some capacity other wise it would drive him insane. Dana popped by while things were slow and the two of them watched their favorite cooking show, the one they used to watched together when Abbott used to work day shift. Even Langdon popped by a few times.

Jack had just closed his eyes to get some rest when Dana rushed in.

“Jack,” She said tears in her eyes.

His heart stopped. “Did I lose her.” He gasped.

“No they said everything went really well, and she is showing improvement. They are relatively confident she is going to pull through.”

His head slumped forward and he sobbed. It felt like the weight of the world he had been holding in, waiting for it to fully crush him was finally lifted off.

“Oh Jack,” Dana said as she ran to him pulling him into her arms.

“She’s ok,” He sobbed. “She’s going to be ok.”

“They said you can come up and see her, they have moved her into a private room.”

In an instant Jack was reaching for his prosthetic.

“No, hey, listen here mister.” Dana snapped. “Robby has insisted the only way you are getting out of this ER is if you use the wheelchair. He told me I had permission to use the soft restraints if you refused.”

“Who knew you were so kinky Dana.” Jack laughed.

Dana let out a loud laugh, there is the pain in the ass Dr. Abbott I know.” She smiled as she helped him into the chair. As they headed out Dana called out. “Princess your in charge until I get back.”

Jack felt like his whole body was vibrating. All he wanted to do was see her.

He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until Dana rolled him into her room and he laid eyes on her again, and he let out a loud sigh.

She still was covered in wires and tubes and she still had the intubation tube down her throat, but her color was so much better. When he reached out for her hand it didn’t feel nearly as cold.

“Hi baby,” He breathed and he pulled himself up so he could lean forward and kiss her forehead. “I’m here baby, you pulled through. I’m so proud of you.”

Against all of the hospital prodocals, Robby pulled some strings and had another hospital bed added to Y/N’s room. He knew there was no way Jack was going to leave that hospital without Y/N by his side, and although Jack swore up and down he could just sleep on the couch, Robby wasn’t about to let one of the best Trauma Doctors throw his back out.

He never left Y/N’s side the whole time she was out. And every day the doctors came back with good news. By day 3 they were able to pull the intubation tube out, just leaving her with cannula.

Jack was doing laps around the room, trying to get the strength back to his leg after being off it for a few days, when he noticed Y/N shift. Instantly he was by her side again holder her hand tightly.

“Baby, Y/N, can you hear me.” He pleaded desperate to see her eyes open.

Slowly Y/N’s eyes cracked open and she winced from the pain of the bright lights. She could feel the pressure of someone holding her hand as she looked to see it was Jack. The minute she saw him and saw the stitches on his head, she remember the car wreck.

“Are you ok?” She asked looking him up and down. Her voice was rough and horse, and it hurt to talk.

Jack smiled sadly tears in his eyes. “Sweetheart, you are the one laid up in a hospital bed, you shouldn’t be asking me if I’m alright.”

“Car crash I…” She said trying to remember anything, but all she remember was Jack telling her he loved her and then the loud crash and darkenss.

“Some drunk asshole hit us, don’t worry I have already talked to the police, that fucker is going to do some hard time.” Jack said and she could see the rage in his eyes. Carefully she lifted her hand up to place it on his cheek. “I thought I was going to lose you Y/N. You weren’t breathing when I pulled you out of the car. I couldn’t find a pulse. I… I have never been more terrified in my entire life.” He said as he leaned forward placing his forehead on hers. “You can’t ever leave me baby. I need you more than I could possible explain.”

They stayed like this for a while, Jack finding comfort in the sound of her labored breathing.

“Well, I don’t have a ride anymore, so I wouldn’t be able to leave even if I wanted to.” She teased. “Guess you are going to have to teach me how to drive the truck.”

Jack laughed as he leaned down to kiss her.

I'm thinking about writing a second part about the readers' recovery. Let me know if you would be interested in reading it.

#dr abbot x reader #jack abbott #the pitt hbo #dr michael robinavitch

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hyruling · 1 month ago

Text

“So. How are you really?”

Buck stares into his mug, thumbs the smooth edge. The ride from the airport had been all stilted conversation; funeral logistics and small talk and updates on Chris, on Maddie and the rest of the 118. Eddie pointed out the Dairy Queen that opened a few miles from the house sometime in the two months he’s been gone. Buck told him about his gym flooding three weeks ago. It got pretty quiet after that, conversation ultimately turning towards the inevitable, and neither of them seemed inclined to break the seal. They made it home in record time by LA’s standards, and Buck pulled into the driveway with an uneasy sort of relief.

Eddie had hugged him, at least, in the middle of the crowded baggage claim. Dropped his duffel and wrapped both his arms around him, held him longer than anticipated. The scruff of his stubble scratched Buck’s neck, and just before pulling away, Eddie ducked his chin and pressed his mouth to Buck’s collarbone for one loaded second. And that had felt — normal. Not normal. Left him wanting more.

Now the coffees been brewed, the bag put away, suit hung safely in the closet. Their knees press together under the table, a grounding point of contact that he leans into. Eddie just looks at him, looking soft and rumpled from travel, and Buck wants to touch him again so badly his fingers ache with it.

“I’m—“ Buck starts. Stops. “I don’t—I don’t know, Eddie.” He scratches idly at his neck, an itchy feeling under his skin that he can’t settle. “I’m just kind of going through the motions, I think.”

It’s the most honest he’s been in weeks. He’s not sure it makes him feel any better.

Eddie nods and sips his coffee. Buck picked up a bottle of his creamer yesterday, and Eddie gives him an appreciative little smile around the lip of the mug.

“That’s okay,” Eddie says. “You don’t have to be anything right now.”

“That’s what my therapist keeps saying,” Buck says with a half-hearted laugh that Eddie returns. They each take a drink, and Buck asks, “How are you?”

Eddie sighs and looks towards the window. “I’m… it’s still a little surreal, to me. I haven’t been—I’ve been so removed out in Texas, it’s like—like it’s not real to me yet.”

“Yeah,” Buck says. His phone buzzes with a text from Ravi that he ignores for now. “I kind of feel that too.”

Eddie frowns, mouth twisting in a familiar way he hates.

“I should have been here,” Eddie says, hushed like a confession. He stares at the placemat, tears starting to form in his eyes. Buck’s already shattered heart breaks impossibly more.

“Don’t do that,” Buck tells him. Eddie shakes his head, blinking rapidly. “You can’t go down that road, Eddie. He—he wouldn’t want that.”

“I should have been here sooner,” Eddie clarifies, still avoiding Buck’s eyes. “I know—no one could have known what would happen. No one will ever know if I could have—if I could have changed anything. And I’ll just—I’ll have to live with that. But I should’ve gotten on a plane the second you called, I should have been here with you, I’m��fuck. I’m sorry Buck.”

“Hey, no, come on. Eddie, look at me.”

Eddie ignores him, gone somewhere Buck can’t reach him. His arm is right there, his hand clenched in a ball on the table only inches from Buck’s. He lays it over Eddie’s white-knuckled fist before can think better of it. It works, draws Eddie’s attention back to him, flicking between Buck’s hand and his eyes.

“Buck,” Eddie whispers.

Slowly, Eddie relaxes — he unclenches his fingers, lets them splay out beneath the weight of Buck’s hand. Buck watches, entranced, as he twists his hand around to hold Buck’s hand properly, fits his fingers between Buck’s. Squeezes gently.

He’s always had such beautiful hands. Big and warm and perfectly sized to fit in Buck’s, knowledge he doesn’t know what to do with now that he has it.

“I don’t hold anything against you, Eddie. You have to know that. You were exactly where you needed to be, Chris needs you more than I do. You—I’m not yours to worry about.”

“Yes you are,” Eddie says. Like it’s nothing. Like it’s known, a simple fact of the universe. But to Buck, it’s as if the world that had stopped spinning two weeks ago shifts beneath his feet, shudders with the effort to start turning again.

Eddie doesn’t look away, even as his cheeks go pink right as Buck’s do. He doesn’t let go of his hand either, thumbs over Buck’s knuckles in a way that has the potential to ruin him.

“I’m—really glad you’re home,” Buck admits quietly.

Eddie smiles, soft and crooked — and though their world has irrevocably changed, Eddie’s smile still has the power to flood him with warmth.

“Me too.”

#my fic #drabbles #buddie fic #missing scene #mods asleep post fix it nonsense #it’s 1:30am and i have a 6 hour drive tomorrow lmao #911 spoilers #911 abc

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lyvhie · 4 months ago

Note

omg hiii, i’ve been in my haechan feels lately, especially with him looking unreal from the seoul shows. can we get possessive haechan?? like i swear that man loves his girl down bad, absolutely in love, and he’s so possessive of her like not in a toxic weird way, but like a hot cute endearing way like a way that would make me push him into the dressing room of a clothes store and give him the most best and deserved head he’s ever gotten bc if there’s anything i love, it’s a man who’s down baddd

── .✦ moments of appreciation

lee donghyuck x fem!reader

𓂃 ࣪˖ ࣪cw: smut, fluff (?), oral (m), deep throat, public sex. 𓂃 ࣪˖ a/n: hi anon... you're so right... i think about this everyday, i meed him in every ways possible, you dont get it... please, enjoy!!! (no, i have nothing for valentine's day, maybe next year, babes 😜😜)

Donghyuck never thought he could love someone the way he loves you. He couldn't quite put into words everything that made him love you, you were simply it for him, perfect in all the right ways.

Yes, you had your imperfections, but to him, love was never about perfection. It wasn't about logic or reason, it simply was. Anyone could love something for all the good it offered, but real love, the kind that mattered, was about embracing everything, even the flaws. And that's exactly how he loved you—completely, without hesitation, without conditions.

He had thought about this before. You could break his heart, shatter him beyond repair, or commit the worst sins imaginable, and he would still love you—helplessly, foolishly. It didn't matter if it sounded irrational, maybe even a little insane. The truth was simple: he would do anything for you, no matter the cost.

But the best part? You were his. No one else's, just his. The thought alone made his chest swell with something dangerously close to obsession. Out of everyone in the world, you had chosen him, and that was a privilege he would never take lightly. You were his, and he was just as much yours, bound to you in a way that felt absolute, unshakable.

And that’s why, even after what felt like days sitting on that little couch, watching you step out of the dressing room in a different outfit each time, he still felt like he was having the best day of his life. Then again, every day felt like the best as long as you were in it.

Really, was there any better way to spend his time than watching his pretty girl try on pretty clothes?

“What do you think about this one?” You asked again, the same question you’d been repeating since the first outfit change.

Donghyuck looked up from his phone, his eyes immediately locking onto you.

“I've never seen anything more beautiful in my life,” he said with a bright smile, letting his gaze travel up and down twice.

“Hyuck, come on,” you rolled your eyes. “You said that the last fifteen times. You’re being useless,” you huffed, crossing your arms.

“How is it my fault that you look stunning in everything?” he shot back, tilting his head with a smirk.

You sighed, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “I need actual feedback, not just you being a flirt.”

Donghyuck leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he gave you a once-over, this time, with a more thoughtful expression. “Okay, fine. Turn around.”

You did as he said, giving him a little twirl before facing him again, an expectant look on your face.

He hummed, tapping his chin dramatically. “I mean… it is a really nice outfit,” he said slowly, making you narrow your eyes at him.

“But?”

“But I still think you are the best part of it,” he grinned, dodging the throw pillow you immediately launched at him.

He got up from his seat, laughing as he walked toward your grumpy figure, wrapping his arms around your waist. "Aw, don't look at me like that, gorgeous," he teased, pressing a kiss to your cheek and chuckling when you turned your face away. "Why are you so worried about this anyway?" he asked, tightening his grip slightly when you tried to pull away.

You hesitated for a moment before sighing. "It's for the reunion," you admitted, avoiding his gaze.

Donghyuck blinked, then tilted his head. "The high school thing?"

"Yes, the high school thing," you huffed. "I don't know, I just... want to look good. It's been years, and I'll be seeing people I haven't seen since we were all awkward teenagers."

His lips curled into a teasing smirk. "Ohhh, I get it now," he cooed. "You wanna show off a little, huh?"

You shot him a glare. "It's not like that—”

"It is like that," he interrupted, grinning. "And honestly? You should. You're hot. Let them eat their hearts out."

Despite yourself, you couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head as he pinched your sides playfully.

"I'm serious, baby. You're stressing over nothing. Just look at you," he said, taking your hand and turning you toward the mirror. His arms wrapped around your waist again, and he rested his chin on your shoulder. "You're breathtaking, the most beautiful woman in the universe and beyond. You could show up in pajamas and still look like a goddess."

You thought you'd be used to his endless flattery by now, but somehow, you never were. It was always sweet, never failing to make your heart skip a beat.

You glanced at him through the mirror, your worries slowly fading as he pressed a soft kiss to your neck.

"You're so dramatic," your tone warm as you rolled your eyes but leaned back into him anyway.

"I'm just telling the truth," he murmured, pressing his nose against your neck. "It's not my fault my overthinking girlfriend needs constant reminders of how stunning she is."

You huffed, but the way your lips twitched betrayed you. "Well, maybe if someone gave me actual opinions instead of just approving everything i wear, I wouldn't have to overthink."

Donghyuck chuckled, swaying you gently in his arms. "Fine, fine. If you really want my expert opinion..." He paused, pretending to scrutinize your reflection in the mirror.

You raised an eyebrow, waiting. "And?”

“Don’t wear this dress.”

“What? Why?” You frowned, glancing at your reflection. “I actually liked this one the most. Does it really look that bad?”

“I never said that,” his hands trailing up and down your waist. “You look incredible, love, but it feels a little too formal for the occasion. The second one you tried fits the vibe better. Plus, it’ll probably be more comfortable… you know, in case we need to make a quick getaway.”

Yeah, he wouldn't admit it, but he wanted you to wear it just for him. You looked too beautiful in it, almost unfairly so, the idea of anyone else seeing you like this, soaking in the sight of you, were a big no-no. Unwanted attention (read: any attention that wasn’t exclusively his) was simply not an option.

“Oh, so you’re already planning our escape before we even get there?” You raised your brows, crossing your arms. “Really?”

Donghyuck chuckled, tightening his grip on your waist as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "Baby, please. I know you," his voice laced with amusement. "You won't last more than an hour before you start getting annoyed at half the people there. You'll smile, nod, pretend to listen, and then, you'll be counting the minutes until we leave."

He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze in the mirror, a smug grin on his lips. "So, yeah, I'm already planning our escape. Just being a good boyfriend and thinking ahead.”

"Okay, maybe you have a point," you teased, rolling your eyes as you turned to face him, looping your arms around his neck. "Guess I should thank my thoughtful boyfriend for planning ahead."

"Just doing the bare minimum for my girl," he smiled, leaning in to steal a quick kiss. "Now that we've finally settled on an outfit and I’ve reminded you how perfect you are, can I spoil you and pay for everything you liked?"

You held his gaze, your heart doing that little flutter it always did when he looked at you like that, like you were his entire universe. It was almost overwhelming, the way his eyes softened, filled with something so pure, so consuming.

If love had a shape, a form, a physical presence, you were sure it lived in the way Haechan looked at you. The same way a loyal pet would gaze at their favorite person, full of unconditional adoration, unwavering and endless. His pupils were blown wide, his expression a mix of devotion and something deeper, something you couldn't quite put into words.

“Baby, please, don’t tell me you’re going to refuse again,” he whined at your silence, pouting a little. “Why do you love to ruin my happiness? It's my duty to—”

“I love you, Lee Donghyuck,” you said softly, cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss.

He was surprise by the sudden words and actions, but his shoulders instantly relaxed as he melted into your embrace. He kissed you back with equal passion, murmuring between the kisses, “I love you too,” before peppering your lips with more soft kisses as you pulled away, only for him to chase after you, craving more of your touch.

You couldn't help but giggle at the way he whined in protest when you pulled away for good, placing your hands on his chest to stop him. Biting your lip, you glanced around before tugging his hand, a playful glint in your eyes as you whispered, "Come with me." And just like that, you pulled him into the dressing room.

"What are you doing?" he asked, slightly confused, though he wasn't exactly opposed to whatever you had in mind.

"Just saying thank you for being the sweetest boyfriend ever," you murmured, sinking to your knees in front of him, your hands sliding up his thighs as you looked up at him.

Oh, he knew exactly what was happening. God, he couldn't believe it. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as his heart pounded, the sight of you like this making his pants uncomfortably tight.

"Are you sure, love?" his voice softer now, laced with anticipation. His eyes flickered to the curtain, hesitant for only a second as you unbuttoned his pants. "This isn't really the best place to—"

A low groan slipped from his lips as your hand firmly cupped his growing hardness, cutting off whatever weak protest he was about to make.

"Be quiet, Hyuck," you scolded, palming him again. He sucked in a sharp breath, biting his bottom lip to stifle any sound as a dark spot began to form on his underwear.

“Fuck, hurry up,” he hissed, any previous hesitation now completely forgotten.

You smirked at his impatience but didn’t tease him, at least, not too much. Slipping your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, you tugged them down just enough to free his cock, standing hard and eager, a bead of precum already glistening at the tip.

You wrapped your fingers around his length, stroking him slowly, savoring the way his breath hitched with each movement. His chest rose and fell in uneven rhythm as he leaned back against the wall, his gaze locked onto you, dark with need. His cock twitched in your grip, another bead of precum spilling from the tip, proof of just how desperate he already was for you.

You merely smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his tip before running your tongue along his length, savoring the way he tensed under your touch. His head fell back against the wall, his breathing growing heavier, his thighs trembling slightly as you took him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and sucking him in deeper.

"Shit—" He bit down on his fist to muffle the groan that nearly slipped, his other hand instinctively threading through your hair, not to control your pace but just to feel you closer, to ground himself in the pleasure you were giving him.

The muffled sounds of the store outside felt like a distant hum, completely drowned out by the way your tongue moved so perfectly against him. His not-so-soft moans filled the small space, each one making your core tighten with satisfaction. You sucked on the tip of his cock before slowly pulling away, letting it slip from your lips with a sinful pop, but your hand never stopped stroking him.

"Hyuck, you're being too loud," you scolded in a hushed tone, glancing up at him with a mix of amusement and warning.

“Don't stop,” he whined, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with desperation. His hips jerked forward instinctively, chasing your warmth. Even the slightest brush of your lips against his tip had his knees trembling.

You let out a soft chuckle, watching the way he was falling apart just from your touch. His fingers tightened in your hair, his knuckles turning white as he fought the urge to push you down onto him the way he so desperately wanted.

“You’re so needy,” you teased, your breath ghosting over his sensitive tip, making him shudder.

“And whose fault is that?” he shot back, his voice strained, breathing heavily.

Instead of answering, you wrapped your lips around him once more, taking him in deeper this time. His head fell back against the wall with a soft thud, a broken moan escaping his lips as his grip in your hair loosened for a moment, only to tighten again when your tongue flicked over his slit.

Was he dead, and this was paradise? If not, it had to be the closest thing to it. His legs nearly gave out when he felt your throat tighten around him, the sudden sensation ripping a loud moan from his lips. Your nails dug into his thighs in warning, silently telling him to keep quiet. He bit down hard on his lower lip, his breathing ragged as he fought to control himself, but with the way your mouth worked on him, it was becoming nearly impossible.

He looked down at you, and what a sight. The way your lips stretched around him, the glint in your eyes as you took him deeper—it was enough to make his head spin. The pleasure was overwhelming, pushing him closer to the edge. His hips moved on their own, chasing that high, silently begging you to go faster, to take him there.

You gave in to his desires, quickening your pace, sucking with more intensity, while your hand skillfully massaged his balls, each movement pushing him closer to the edge. The rhythm of your actions seemed to drive him wild, his breath ragged as he struggled to hold on.

His body tensed, his head spinning as he reached his peak, hot spurts of cum filling your mouth. His fingers tightened in your hair, urging you closer as his hips jerked forward, riding out the last tremors of his climax, unwilling to let go.

You pulled his cock out of your mouth, knowing he would have kept you there if he had his way. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, glancing up to see his face in pure satisfaction, eyes shut and head leaning against the wall. His hand now gently ran through your hair, his breath still heavy as he mumbled how good you were, the words dripping with praise.

You let out a soft giggle, adjusting his clothes as you noticed how disoriented he looked. As you stood up, he finally met your gaze, his eyes dark with desire. Without warning, he leaned in, pulling you into a kiss that was intense yet tender. “God, I love you so much, baby,” he whispered against your lips.

“Me too,” you replied, a playful smile on your face. “I think the whole store heard you,” you teased, gently biting his lower lip before pulling away to meet his gaze.

“Then I guess they know how much I love you now,” he shrugged, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, making you laugh. “Maybe I’ll be quieter next time.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Next time? I think this one was enough, don’t you? We could have gotten caught.”

“But we didn’t,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “Next time, I’ll make sure you're the one making all the noise.”

↝ taglist: @yizhrt, @sinisxtea, @peterm4rker.

#haechan x reader #haechan smut #nct x reader #nct smut #nct dream x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #donghyuck smut

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alwaysmicado · 9 months ago

Text

Nightcall

10.4k | 18+ MDNI | Marc Spector x f!reader

Moon Knight Masterlist | AO3

Warnings: angst, smut, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, unprotected piv, biting, rough & emotionally intense sex, multiple orgasms, possessive!Marc, choking, spitting, creampie, toxic dynamic Summary: Marc is a bad habit you can’t shake. A/N: This idea has been haunting my dreams like Marc has been haunting reader’s. And just like reader, I couldn’t resist the allure of this elusive, rugged, and devastatingly addictive man. Could you? Happy reading (even though it hurts) and let me know what you think! *Marc lifts & flips you with ease (he’s MK, duh). Dividers by @/cafekitsune.

One year.

It’s been one year since you’ve last seen him.

One whole year of wondering where he is, if he’s left for good this time, if he’s even still alive.

You’ve tried to fill the void in your heart, started smoking again, gave the nice guy from the coffee shop down the block a chance. He’s kind to you, makes you laugh, brings you flowers, and you think you could grow to love him.

You’re trying.

You’re trying so hard.

To forget, to forgive, to heal, to live.

And now he’s back. In your life, standing at your door at 1 a.m.

Marc Spector.

The bane of your existence.

You were lounging on your couch in your pajamas mere moments ago, the soft glow of the TV casting shadows on the walls, when a knock at the door shattered the peace you’d begun to find. Your heart stopped, your head jerking towards the door.

It couldn’t be.

You heard his voice, rough and familiar, sending a jolt through your entire being.

“It’s me,” he said, his voice muffled but unmistakable.

You stood, your legs trembling, walking closer to the door in a trance, bare feet on the wooden floor, your hand hovering over the doorknob. You didn’t answer, but you couldn’t tear yourself away.

He was alive. He came back.

Marc came back to you.

What now?

Taking a deep breath, you look through the peephole, and your heart flutters when you see his face. He looks as handsome as ever, broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his t-shirt, dark curls hidden under a baseball cap, beard stubble a little grayer than the last time you’ve seen him.

But there’s a weariness in his eyes, a deep exhaustion that pulls at your heartstrings.

He’s tired.

You know he is.

He’s told you in the rare moments he’d let you in, your sweat-covered bodies tangled in your bed, his fingers brushing over your cheek.

You’d see a spark of something in his warm eyes then. Something akin to sadness, longing, regret. But it would disappear after a few seconds, and he’d harden again, turning around to gather his clothes, telling you he needed to go.

You’d find new scars on his body every time he came to see you. He’d show up with barely scabbed-over cuts, a black eye, a dislocated shoulder, a split lip. And you’d patch him up, kissing it all better.

You stopped asking how he got his injuries some time ago. He’d always give you the same answer anyway.

“Just a scratch, baby. Nothing to worry your pretty head about.”

Whatever it is that keeps him going, it has more power over him than you ever will.

Tears blur your vision, and you slide down the door, sitting with your back against it. You want to stay strong, to remember the pain he’s caused you, but his words cut through your resolve like a knife.

“Come on, let me in. I came all this way to see you.”

It feels like he’s been out there for hours, but you know it can’t have been more than two minutes. Why is this happening?

“Let me in, Sunshine. Please.”

You blink back tears, shaking your head even though he can’t see you, your hands balled into fists, fingernails digging into your palms.

Every time.

Every time, he rips open the wounds he inflicted on you, and you know this time won’t be any different. You want to resist him, want to tell him to go to hell, that he can’t keep doing this to you, that you’ve finally had enough.

But you can’t do it, can you?

Resist Marc.

You both know you can’t. And deep down, under all the bullshit you like to tell yourself, under all the anger, under all the resentment, you know you don’t want to.

You never did.

Going for a smoke outside the bar, goosebumps forming on your bare arms as the wind blew and the rain fell, your feet sore from being caged in high heels for hours, the only thing you wanted was a minute of quiet, a minute where you didn’t have to smile or act like you were having fun.

You were tired—tired of the noise, tired of the people, tired of the pretense.

All you wanted was a moment of peace.

“Shit,” you muttered, staring at your lighter in disbelief as it refused to spark, tears of sheer frustration pricking the corners of your eyes. Leaning against the cool brick wall, you let your head fall back, eyes closed, trying to shut out the world.

How did it get like this? How did you get like this?

Deep down, you know you don’t have anyone to blame but yourself. The problem is you. Not the world, not your parents, not the shitty things that have happened to you. It’s you. It’s always been you.

“Need a light?” a voice cut through the rain, smooth and unexpected.

You opened your eyes slightly, just enough to see a stranger standing a few feet away. “Yeah, mine apparently hates me,” you replied, lifting the offending object.

The man chuckled, a warm sound that contrasted with the cold night. “Here,” he said, stepping closer. His dark eyes sparkled with mischief, his smirk stirring something inside you. “I got you, Sunshine.”

He pulled out a sleek silver lighter, flicking it open with practiced ease, producing a small, steady flame. You put your cigarette between your lips, leaning in to catch the light. His eyes never left yours, a connection forming in that brief moment. He then lit his own cigarette, taking a drag.

The first inhale of nicotine calmed your nerves slightly, a welcome distraction from the chaos inside your mind. “Thanks,” you muttered, leaning back against the wall and savoring the moment of quiet.

“No problem,” he nodded, staring into the surrounding darkness.

He was closer now, leaning against the wall next to you, his presence oddly comforting.

“Rough night?”

“You could say that.” You let out a dry laugh, glancing at him. He was handsome in a rugged way—dark curls, full lips, broad chest, with a confident air that was alluring. “What about you?”

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “Rough night.”

You studied him for a moment, noting the gentle curve of his nose and the laugh lines in the outer corner of his eyes. You also noticed his split knuckles in the neon glow of the party lights hanging above.

“I guess we’re both running from something,” you said softly, taking another drag of your cigarette.

“Is that so?” He smiled at you with a raised eyebrow and you smiled back. “I’m Marc, by the way.”

You gave him your name and shook his hand, feeling a strange jolt at the contact. “Nice to meet you, Marc. Thanks for the light.”

“Anytime,” he said, his expression turning pensive.

You both smoked in silence for a while, the rain a soothing backdrop to your thoughts.

When your cigarettes were nearly finished, Marc turned towards you, his movements smooth and deliberate. He leaned in, his hand bracing against the wall next to your head, bringing his face and body close to yours, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asked, his eyes dropping from your eyes to your lips with unmistakable intent.

You hesitated for a second, brow furrowed, thoughts swirling. The rain fell around you in a soft patter. You searched his eyes and found something, something that promised a temporary escape from your hollow existence.

You didn’t have anything to lose.

“Yeah,” you said, putting out your cigarette with your shoe.

You ended the night with him on top of you, in your bed, all your troubles wiped away for a couple of hours. His hands roamed your body with a hunger that matched your own, and for the first time in a long while, you felt alive.

You thought it was just a one-night stand since he left as soon as you both came down, and you fell asleep, spent and satisfied.

Until he showed up at your door late at night, two weeks later.

There he was, standing in the hallway with that same charming smile, holding up a pack of cigarettes and his silver lighter. “Mind if I come in?” he asked, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

And that’s how it all started. This…thing you have going on.

“I missed you,” he’d whisper in your ear, his voice rough with longing as he was buried deep inside of you. “My beautiful girl.”

Those words would wrap around your heart, suffusing you with a warmth that felt like everything you had ever wanted. In those fleeting moments, it was as if all the pain and uncertainty melted away, leaving only the intoxicating sensation of being cherished, if only for a little while. But then, like always, he would leave, and the cold reality would set in.

He would tell you he couldn’t stay, but not why. His eyes would darken with unspoken burdens, and he’d brush a kiss against your forehead, promising he’d be back.

Yet, he never told you it was for your safety. He never mentioned the shadows that lurked around him, the dangers he faced on a daily basis. He didn’t tell you about the battles he fought, tooth and nail, just to carve out a few hours to be with you.

He didn’t tell you any of this, and after some time, you stopped asking. The questions died on your lips, replaced by a resigned acceptance. You accepted that you’d never be more to Marc than a brief escape, a distraction from whatever demons haunted him.

Well, your brain did.

But not your heart.

Your heart clung to every whispered endearment, every stolen touch, every heated kiss that promised more than he could ever give. Your heart held onto the belief that maybe, just maybe, one day he’d stay. That one day, this torturous cycle of brief encounters and long absences would end.

You’d lie in bed after he left, the sheets still warm from his presence, his scent lingering in the air. You’d replay the moments in your mind, his whispered words, the way he looked at you as if you were his salvation. You’d clutch your pillow, trying to hold onto the ghost of his touch, knowing that come morning, the loneliness would creep back in.

Every time he returned, it was like a balm to your wounded soul. He’d pull you into his arms, his kiss desperate, as if he was drowning and you were his only breath of air.

And for those precious hours, you’d let yourself believe that you were his beautiful girl, his light in a world filled with darkness, that he needed you as much as you needed him.

He’d leave again, the door closing softly behind him, and you’d be left alone. You’d tell yourself that it was enough, that these stolen moments were worth the heartache.

But deep down, you knew it wasn’t.

You always knew that your heart was breaking a little more each time he walked away.

And you know now that any resolve you’ve built up over the past year will crumble the second you open the door and look into his eyes.

It’s always the same.

No matter how sick and tired you are of his careless behavior, no matter how many times he chews you up and spits you out, no matter how many nights you spend crying over him, mourning him, cursing him, self-hatred wrapping around you like a suffocating blanket.

You let him in. You let him do this to you.

Because you love him. Because you’re a fool.

Slowly, reluctantly, you stand, heart pounding, blood rushing in your ears. You sigh deeply, and before you can stop yourself, your hand turns the knob, opening the door just a crack.

Marc pushes the door open wider, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment, and before you realize what’s happening, his cap is on the floor and his lips are on yours. His arms wrap around you, pulling you close as he kicks the door shut behind him. He spins you around, pressing you against the wall with a desperate need that makes you dizzy.

“I missed you, Sunshine,” he murmurs against your lips, his hands roaming your body.

“Don’t call me that,” you protest, your palms pressed against his pecs.

He smiles. “But it’s who you are. My Sunshine.”

“I’m not your anything, Marc,” you hiss, trying to push him away. He doesn’t budge. “I’m a warm body for you to fuck. That’s it.”

“That’s not all you are to me,” he says without missing a beat, brows furrowed, thumb brushing over your lower lip with a maddening gentleness. “Why so hostile, Sunshine? Aren’t you happy to see me?”

There it is. That damn look. Concern, care, and hunger, all mingling in his eyes, breaking down your defenses bit by bit.

“Are you fucking kidding, Marc?” you snap, snatching his wrist to stop him from touching you. “You–you were gone for a year. No goodbye, no message, no nothing.”

His gaze doesn’t waver as he cups your face with both hands, and despite yourself, you let go of his wrist.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” The warmth in his eyes and the soft smile on his lips make you want to throw up. You turn your head, your chest heaving.

He gently but firmly pushes your head back, his hands still cradling your face, forcing you to meet his gaze once more. His grip is firm but not painful, a reminder of his strength and control—the same strength that has always thrilled you.

“Hey,” he says softly, his eyes boring into yours, pleading. “I’m here now.”

You’re stunned, frozen in place like a deer in headlights, about to be run over.

It’s too late for you.

All you see is him, the man who has torn your heart to pieces and yet somehow still holds it in his hands.

The world narrows to the space between you, and the chaos of your mind falls silent. You’re ready to die in this moment if it means feeling his touch again.

You give an almost imperceptible nod, a surrender, and his lips are on yours instantly.

The kiss is desperate, a clash of lust and guilt, his mouth moving against yours with a ferocity that leaves you breathless. His hands move down your sides to your waist, pulling you closer as if he can’t bear the distance between you for even a second longer.

You moan into his mouth, your body responding to his touch despite your mind’s protests. Your arms wrap around him, pulling him even closer, needing to feel every inch of him against you. The taste of him is intoxicating, a mix of smoke and mint, and it floods your senses, drowning out the pain, the questions, the doubts.

Marc’s hands urgently explore the contours of your back, pressing you against him, reveling in your scent. You can feel the hard lines of his body, the heat of his skin, and it’s all too much and not enough at the same time. Your back hits the wall again, and he pins you there, his mouth leaving yours to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

One hand finds your breast, groping it for a moment, palm rubbing against your hard nipple, his touch needy and rough. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, his name escaping your lips in a broken whisper. He groans in response, the sound vibrating against your skin.

Impatient, his fingers hook into the waistband of your pajama pants, yanking them down along with your panties with practiced ease. You step out of them, exposed, his leg pressing against your core.

You can’t help but buck your hips against him, your body moving on its own accord, driven by pent-up desire and anger. Your hands fist his shirt, gripping the fabric tightly as if it’s the only thing anchoring you to reality. His hands are on your ass, kneading your flesh with possessive urgency, each squeeze sending shivers of pleasure through your body.

Marc’s mouth is everywhere, hot and insistent, licking a slow, deliberate stripe from behind your ear down your neck. The sensation makes you gasp, your back arching. He sucks and nips at your skin, frenzied and desperate, leaving a trail of bruises that mark you as his, each one a bittersweet reminder of the fleeting connection you share.

The contrast between the roughness of his hands and the wet heat of his mouth drives you wild, every touch igniting a fire inside you that you can’t control.

“Marc,” you moan, your voice a mix of frustration and need. Your nails dig into his shoulders, pulling him closer, urging him on. He responds with a growl, his teeth grazing your neck before biting down, the sharp pain making you gasp.

“God, I’ve missed this,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice thick with desire. His hands grip your ass harder, lifting your leg slightly so he can grind against you, his hardness pressing against your core, sending waves of pleasure through you.

You throw your head back, giving him better access to your neck as he continues to lick, suck, and bite with abandon, each mark he leaves on your skin feeling like a brand, a claim that you both know will fade but never truly disappear.

“More,” you whisper, your breathing shallow. “Please, I need more.” You reach between your bodies, sliding your hand down his hard torso, rubbing his bulge over the rough fabric of his jeans.

Marc groans and pulls back just enough to look into your glazed-over eyes, his own filled with lust and something deeper, something that makes your heart ache. “I’ll give you everything, baby,” he promises, his hands moving to cup your face as he kisses you again, his lips searing and demanding.

You can feel the truth in his words, even if only for this moment, and you let yourself believe it.

He bites your bottom lip and pulls back with a growl, dropping to his knees, spreading your thighs and pressing his mouth to your core. Your brain takes a few seconds to catch up with what’s happening, your mind foggy, your heart racing.

“Marc, wait,” you gasp, your hands tangling in his hair as his tongue flicks out, teasing your aching clit. “I haven’t—oh fuck—I haven’t showered.”

“I don’t care,” he murmurs, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive skin.

The sensation is overwhelming, his tongue lapping at your folds with a hunger that makes your knees weak. You gasp, your hips bucking involuntarily against his face. He groans in response, reveling in the scent and wetness you’re spreading all over his face, cursing under his breath as his cock strains against the inside of his jeans.

His hands tighten their grip on your thighs, holding you open for him, keeping you steady as his tongue and lips work with practiced precision to make you lose control.

Your head falls back, hitting the wall with a dull thud, but you barely notice. Every flick of his tongue, every suck on your clit sends waves of pleasure crashing through you. Your hands tighten in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more, fingernails scraping his scalp.

“Marc,” you moan, your voice a mix of desperation and bliss, your body trembling under this relentless, sweet torture. “Oh fuck, Marc.”

Hearing you moan his name is like gasoline on a fire, fueling his desire.

“God, you taste so good,” he pants against your skin, his voice filled with raw need, drunk with lust. “Always so fucking perfect.”

Your body trembles as he hums against you, his tongue alternating between slow, teasing licks and fast, desperate flicks before sucking on your swollen clit again.

You can feel the tension building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter with each passing second.

“Please,” you beg, your voice a shaky whisper. “I need you inside me.”

He responds without hesitation, his tongue plunging into your wet heat, tasting you, drinking you, fucking you with ruthless intensity. You cry out, your back arching off the wall as the pleasure becomes almost too much to bear. He replaces his tongue with his middle and ring fingers, sliding them inside you, curling them just right, hitting that perfect spot. His mouth devours you simultaneously, desperately, like a man starved.

Your hips buck harder, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he finger-fucks you in rhythm with his licks. The dual assault of his tongue and fingers is overwhelming, pushing you ever closer to the edge.

Your nails rake across his scalp, and he groans against you, the vibrations sending ripples of ecstasy through your core.

You can barely form a coherent thought, your mind hazy as you can’t hold back the moans escaping your lips. Marc starts sucking on your clit with renewed vigor, the sensation sending you spiraling. You’re on the brink, the tension inside you coiled so tightly it’s about to snap.

The wet sounds of your pussy fill the air, blending with the rhythmic beat of your heart pounding in your chest. He can feel your body tensing, the telltale signs of your impending climax, and it drives him wild.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Fuck, I’m gonna–”

You don’t get to finish the sentence before you shatter into a million pieces, every nerve ending ablaze with euphoric release. Marc doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, holding onto your hip, continuing to lap at you and move his fingers, drawing out every last tremor until you’re left trembling and spent.

For a brief, blissful moment, you feel pure, unadulterated happiness, your fingers absentmindedly running through Marc’s hair. But as reality slowly sets back in, your living room coming back into view, Marc’s mouth on your core starting to become uncomfortable, the weight of what just happened begins to dawn on you. Your eyes meet his, and you feel it all crashing down on you—confusion, heartache, regret.

Marc finally pulls back, his face and fingers glistening with your arousal, a satisfied, almost smug grin on his lips.

He stands, his hands finding your cheeks as he presses his wet lips against yours, sliding his tongue inside. You close your eyes and wrap your arms around his waist, tasting yourself on his lips, your body buzzing with the aftermath of your orgasm.

“You miss me?” he whispers against your lips before pulling back enough to look into your wide eyes. The warmth of his breath mingles with yours, and his gaze is filled with an intensity that makes your heart clench painfully.

The casualness of his question tears at you, as if you had seen each other just yesterday, as if he hadn’t just given you an earth-shattering orgasm after crushing your heart with his bare hands.

And all after you swore to yourself you’d never let him do this again.

You want to hate him, you really do. But how could you? He came back from the dead to see you. You know he needs you right now, so how could you deny him?

You nod, feeling tears well up in your eyes, swallowing heavily. “Always,” you whisper, your voice breaking with emotion.

A smile spreads across Marc’s lips, his eyes softening for a moment, and he captures your lips in a deep, fervent kiss again, as if trying to convey everything he can’t put into words. Then, with a gentle but firm grip, he lifts you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. You cling to him, head buried in the crook of his neck, your hands gripping his shoulders as he carries you towards your bedroom.

He clocks the bouquet of pink roses on your dining room table, notices the little card standing next to the vase. There’s a strawberry drawn on the front, but it’s too dark for him to read what he just assumes to be a lame pun about loving you ‘berry’ much.

How cute.

Marc lays you down on the bed, his body pressed against yours, trailing kisses down your neck. You wrap your legs around his waist again, rubbing yourself against his bulge, impatient, hands tangled in his curls.

“Not yet, baby,” he whispers in your ear, nibbling on your earlobe, reveling in the needy noises you make, how you squirm under him, trying to get him to move and give you what you want.

He will. But first, he wants to look at you—at your beautiful body, every inch of your skin.

He gets off the bed and you scoot back, fluffing up your pillows and leaning against them with your back. You watch as Marc turns on the bedside lamp and removes his shirt, revealing the hard lines of his muscles and the scars that tell the story of battles you’re clueless about. He kicks off his shoes, his eyes never leaving yours. When he unbuckles his belt, ready to pull his pants down and fuck you already, his eyes drop down to your wet pussy, and he decides differently.

“Take off your shirt and show me how you played with yourself while I was away.”

Your hands tremble slightly as you pull your shirt over your head, your skin prickling with anticipation. You feel exposed, vulnerable, but the look in Marc’s eyes makes you feel desired, wanted. You spread your legs wide and slide your hand down your body, your fingers finding your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. Your other hand moves to your breast, teasing your nipple, and you let out a soft moan, your eyes locked on Marc.

His gaze darkens with lust as he watches you, jeans on the floor, spitting in his hand, wrapping it around his cock, stroking himself slowly. “God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice thick with need. “Keep going.”

God, how much he wants to bury himself deep inside of you, to feel your warm, wet pussy pulsing around his cock, to fuck all his frustrations into you, to hear your sweet moans, to feel your soft skin pressed against his.

It’s all he wants.

All he can think about when he’s away from you. All he needs in nights like this.

You increase the pace of your fingers, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the pleasure builds. Marc’s eyes don’t leave you for a second, his hand moving faster on his cock, mirroring the rhythm of your movements.

“You have no idea how much I missed this,” he pants. “Missed you.”

Fuelled by his poisonous words, your hips buck against your hand, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your core. “Marc,” you moan, your voice a desperate plea. “I’m close.”

His eyes burn into yours as he moves swiftly, crawling onto the bed and positioning himself between your legs. He nudges your hand away and replaces it with his own, his fingers sliding inside you in one smooth motion, his thumb rubbing your clit.

“Let go, baby. Come for me.”

And with his words, you shatter, your orgasm crashing over you in waves, your pussy clamping down around his fingers, pulsating, your hands gripping the sheets. Marc watches you intently, his own breath ragged, cock throbbing so close to your dripping hole.

The ecstatic feeling coursing through you turns into uncomfortable overstimulation quickly, so you grab his wrist, and he withdraws his fingers, giving you a moment to come down.

You look so fucking gorgeous like this. Eyes glazed over, looking at him like he’s all you see, like he’s all you need. But as Marc holds your gaze, your chest rising and falling, he also sees something else in your big, beautiful eyes.

Sadness.

It’s a deep sadness he knows he’s responsible for—a sadness that cuts through the layers of detachment, apathy, and composure he’s built up to survive the trials in his life. Despite everything, there remains a gentle, tender part hidden deep inside him. A part that makes him vulnerable, scared, and like he could be the man you need…if only things were different.

“My Sunshine,” he says softly, his knuckles brushing over your hot cheek. The tenderness in his touch contrasts sharply with the storm of emotions inside him. He leans over you, and the kiss he presses on your lips is soft, oh so soft.

It’s intense. Intense and unexpected.

It’s easier to push aside your feelings when he’s rough with you. It’s easier to tell yourself you’re just two lonely people fucking to feel a little less lonely if all you can focus on is your body.

But then he pulls shit like this and it gives you hope that you might mean something to him. And after years of asking yourself if he’s just an asshole who gets off on playing mind games, or if he doesn’t care enough to realize what he’s doing is killing you, you’re not sure you want to know the answer.

Marc pulls you out of your thoughts when he releases your lips and pulls back slightly, his eyes darkening with a different kind of intensity as he traces your bottom lip with his thumb.

“Open your mouth.”

You obey, parting your lips, your breath hitching in anticipation. Marc lets a strand of spit drop into your mouth, slowly, deliberately, watching as it lands in the back of your throat, and you swallow it without hesitation.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire, kissing and nibbling on your jaw, your neck, down to your breast, circling your nipple with the tip of his tongue before sucking it into his eager mouth.

“Marc…” you whine, looking down, threading your fingers through his disheveled hair, your heart pounding. You let yourself get lost in him, in the way he touches you, in the way he makes you feel alive. And as you do, you can’t stop the words tumbling from your lips.

“Please stay.”

Marc pauses, his mouth still on your breast, his body tensing. He releases your nipple and looks up at you, his brow furrowing at your watery eyes.

He hates to see you like this.

“You know I can’t,” he says, his calm voice betraying none of the guilt that’s clawing at his heart, making it hard for him to breathe.

But he can’t comfort you. Not now. Not when you’re supposed to be his salvation. Not when he knows it’d be a lie.

He sits back on his heels between your spread legs, his eyes never leaving yours as he pumps his painfully hard cock.

“Why?” you whisper, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “Why?”

Marc leans over you, arms braced next to your head, capturing your quivering lips with his, preventing you from making him feel worse than he already does.

You moan into his mouth and he can’t wait anymore. Needs to be inside you. Needs to make it all right.

He shifts in closer, pressing his cock against you, just sliding it between your folds, up and down, letting out a raspy sigh at the friction of it. His cock gathers your wetness quickly—you’re always so fucking wet for him.

Before falling asleep on whatever cot he’d find himself on, he’d sometimes allow himself to fantasize about waking up next to you, feeling your warm body, hearing your soft breathing, sliding his hand down the front of your panties, and feeling how wet you are from dreaming about him.

His breath catches in his throat just thinking about it.

“Marc…” you plead, and he smiles to himself—it usually takes far longer for you to start begging, so it must mean you really missed him. You squirm again, hips twisting like you’re trying to get him inside you, and he watches you intently, soaking up every little expression, every little moan, every little plea.

“What do you want, baby?” he murmurs, dragging it out just a little bit longer. He loves to hear you, loves to get you to admit it. For you, the truth is in the action of it, but he likes to listen to you say it out loud.

“You,” you moan desperately. “I need you, Marc. I missed you so fucking much, I can’t take it anymore.”

“Yeah?” he murmurs with an imperceptible smile.

“Uh-huh,” you nod, staring up into his eyes.

Marc’s cock twitches at the genuine need he can see in your eyes, the sight like a potent drug going straight to his brain and filling him with more bliss than anything else could. He knows what you like, knows what buttons to push, knows exactly how to touch you to make you forget the world around you.

It makes him feel good to make you feel good. It always has.

And it’s more than the gratification of feeling your pussy pulsating around his cock or hearing you scream his name while your orgasm overtakes you. It’s more than his pride, his ego, his need to feel like he’s doing good for once in his life.

It’s you.

It’s his misguided effort to make up for all his misdeeds. His atonement. He tells himself it’s enough for him to fuck your brains out, to pour all of himself into you without inhibitions while he’s with you to offset his absence.

He tells himself that, holds onto it—needs it to be true.

“Please…” you whine, and he pushes up against your clit, feeling the pulse of it. You shudder at the intensity, the pressure, and he grins. “Fuck. Fuck me.”

“Dirty mouth,” he chides, and you whine in frustration as he brings his hand up, pressing one finger to your slightly parted lips. You open them wider, suck his finger in, suckle for a moment and then bite.

“Fuck me,” you demand, voice muffled and tongue pressing against his fingertip, wet and warm.

Your teeth loosen up and he slides his finger deeper, right to the back of your tongue. You don’t gag, just stare him down defiantly, and he can’t wait any longer. He reaches down with his other hand, guides himself to your entrance, cock pushing deep into the tight heat of you, as slow as he can stand it.

You’re so fucking good.

His head starts to roll back instinctively, but he holds it steady and slides his hand over to your hip, gripping your flesh as his cock splits you open.

When he’s fully sheathed inside of you, you let out a low moan, brows furrowing, throwing your head back against the pillows. He pulls back a little only to drive right back in, hard, and this time you moan a hell of a lot louder. Quickly, he stifles the sound with his palm, pressing his hand right over your mouth—not because he doesn’t want to hear you. No, because he knows it heightens your pleasure.

Your resulting moans are muffled against his hand as you start trying to meet his thrusts, your hips working towards him, desperate for it. You love it when he smothers you like this, love feeling his big hand over your face.

He first discovered the power of it when you were arguing about something silly and you wouldn’t shut up—he did it jokingly, only to be surprised when you immediately fell silent. You didn’t even push him away or do anything obnoxious like lick his palm; you just went totally compliant. It was an instant reaction, as though it was something your body was conditioned to obey.

He grips your hip, feeling your soft skin against his palm, his other hand covering your mouth as he thrusts into you hard, until the bed is rocking rhythmically against the wall. The hand on your hip slides higher, over your belly, groping your breast, pinching your hard nipple. His other hand slips from your mouth and you’re panting now, your face hot and almost grimacing, your whole body taut and tense for him.

But then his hands meet at your throat, and you go limp, your lips stretching into an exhausted smile. He keeps his hands still, just on either side of your neck, curled around your shoulders, his thumbs across your collarbones.

“Go on,” you say breathlessly, biting your lip in anticipation, lifting up your head in order to strain a little against his hands. He says nothing, smiling wickedly back at you, his hips working shallowly, cock thrusting against your G-spot.

“Go on,” you whine, impatient, and he wants to say, “What?” and grin sardonically and make you beg for it, but he’s too greedy, eager just like you are.

He wraps his fingers around your throat and squeezes, quick and sudden, watching your pupils dilate and your lips fall open. You’d let him choke you to death if he wasn’t careful, he’s sure—you get so fucking caught up in it—so he has to be vigilant, letting go when you look like you’re about to pass out.

It’s difficult to judge, though. You look blissed out already, and he can feel your tendons working against his fingers as he jabs his thumb just under your jaw, tightening his grip. You make these sounds—gasps at first, and then little choking coughs, your throat all raw, and all the while he’s thrusting into you, hard and fast.

He eases off a second, lets you catch your breath, and you draw it in, hoarse and gasping, looking dazed. Almost high.

You jerk your chin at him as if to say, “C’mon, again, what are you waiting for?” and he complies, one hand this time, big enough to reach quite a way around your neck. His other hand snakes down the center of you, down between your legs, along your hot skin to where he disappears inside, your slick folds parting to let him in. He teases with his fingers, finds your clit, gentle there even as he’s gripping your throat so tight he’ll probably leave marks.

You buck wildly against him and he holds you down, grinning, relentless, finger flickering over your clit as he fucks you, chokes you, brings you closer and closer to the edge—

He feels your fingers digging into his shoulders, his back, then his arms, grabbing frantically at him as your whole body tenses, and you’re spluttering out a desperate, “Yes, yes,” and then he feels that same clenching around his cock, a quick spasm, so tight he can’t help but groan.

You come with your eyes shut and your mouth open, and he keeps going a moment longer than he needs to, stroking you where you’re oversensitive, making you shake and squirm.

Marc lets go of your throat and takes ahold of your breast instead, chasing his own release, fucking you harder and harder and closing his eyes because you’re gazing at him in that way that chips away at his resolve.

“Slow down,” you suddenly whisper, so full of him, so desperate to keep it that way.

He slows down minimally. “Why?”

“I–I don’t want….” you trail off as he licks and sucks on your neck, his hand groping your breast. “Please, I don’t want it to end…”

He pulls back a little and just…smiles at you, that irritating smile that says, “You honestly still think you’re in control here?”

It wouldn’t bother you as much if you weren’t still processing that he’s actually here, flesh and blood, after abandoning you, and having the balls to act like the past year didn’t happen. Like he didn’t stab your heart and leave you to bleed out slowly.

“I know you don’t want me to slow down,” he pants in your ear as he picks up the pace again, alternating between shallow thrusts that hit your G-spot perfectly, and deep thrusts that make you gasp. “You want me to fuck you like your little boyfriend never could.”

You freeze. Marc’s labored breathing, the wet sounds of your pussy, the sound of rain coming from outside your window—it all becomes white noise as your brain catches up with what he just said to you.

And then something snaps inside you.

Something primal, violent, desperate.

You grab the nape of his neck and pull him down for a bruising kiss, biting his lips hard, tongue swirling around his, the taste of blood in your mouth making your head spin. Marc moans into your mouth, but he doesn’t stop you, doesn’t stop his own movements inside you.

You feel yourself getting closer and closer again, and you hate it. You fucking hate that he’s doing this to you. And you hate even more that you’re letting him.

He pulls away and buries his face in the crook of your neck, his bloody lips staining your shoulder. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you as your nails rake down his arms, leaving angry red trails in their wake. You claw at his back, holding onto him with all you have. He groans at the pain and looks into your eyes, reveling in the pure need he can see in them.

You see how much it turns him on to see you like this, and it makes you even angrier.

Marc leans in to kiss you again, but before you know what’s happening, your hand shoots up to his throat, fingers digging into his jaw, pushing his face away. He growls at you and tries to kiss you anyway, stubborn and unyielding, his lips brushing against yours despite your resistance. You buck your hips and twist your body, trying to dislodge him, your hands pushing and shoving at his chest and shoulders.

You manage to get one hand around his throat, squeezing as hard as you can, your nails digging into his skin. Marc groans, his breath hot against your face, but his grip on you doesn’t falter. He grabs your wrists, attempting to pin them above your head, but you fight back with all your strength, writhing beneath him, your legs kicking out, trying to find leverage to push him off.

“That’s enough,” he growls, his voice rough and intimidating as he finally manages to secure your wrists. “Calm do–”

You turn your head and bite the arm that’s pinning your wrist down, canines piercing the skin.

“Fuck,” Marc hisses through clenched teeth, his thrusts becoming rougher, more desperate, as if he’s trying to match your intensity, trying to make you feel the same pain you’re inflicting on him. The bed creaks with the force of your combined movements, the air thick with the sounds of your mutual anguish.

“You wanna hurt me, baby?” he pants as he lets go of your wrist and instead grabs your chin to force you to look at him.

“Yeah,” you whisper without hesitation, your pupils dilated, your voice dripping with venom and need.

Marc’s eyes darken with a mix of lust and something deeper, something almost like understanding. “Good,” he says simply, grabbing your ass and rolling you both over, so you can ride him. He pulls up the pillow behind his back, so he’s propped up and you can hold onto his shoulders. “Take what you need.”

He moves his hips slowly, tenderly almost, as if to tell you he’s done fighting with you and wants you to feel good. You’re not there yet, you’re still seeing red. Clawing at his chest, nails digging into his skin, leaving scratches that will take days to fade.

But it’s not enough. You need more. You need to make him feel the pain he’s caused, to make him understand what he’s put you through. You push his face away, his stubble grazing your palm, and he turns his head, biting down on your thumb, groaning at the taste of you. Spurred on by the sensation, your teeth find his shoulder, biting down hard enough to break the skin.

“Stop,” he grunts, the word strained, his cock twitching inside you. You don’t relent immediately, your teeth sinking deeper until he grabs your shoulders, trying to push you off.

Finally, he manages to grip your throat, not squeezing, but enough to make you stop. The pressure is firm, commanding, and it stills your movements. He looks up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and desperation. “Enough,” he says with finality, his voice rough and low. “I want you to fuck me, not kill me.”

You stare down at him, your chest heaving, the raw emotion in his eyes grounding you. Slowly, you release your grip on his shoulders, the tension in your body easing as you adjust to the new position. His hand remains on your throat, a reminder of his control, but also of the thin line between pain and pleasure that you both walk.

You start to move, rocking your hips against him, swollen clit rubbing against his trimmed pubes, taking him deep inside you. His grip on your throat tightens just a fraction, enough to send a thrill through your body, but not enough to hurt. His other hand grips your hip, guiding your movements as you ride him, each thrust a release of the pent-up emotions that have been tearing you apart.

Mouth slightly agape, Marc’s eyes never leave yours, the connection between you intense and unbreakable. “That’s it, baby,” he murmurs. “Use me.”

And you do.

Your movements become increasingly more frantic, muscles tense, driven by a need to feel him, to feel that he’s really here with you.

“You left,” you pant, eyes piercing his, pleasure building inside you with every movement of your hips.

“Yeah, I did,” Marc replies, his tone unapologetic and infuriatingly calm. He lets go of your neck and cups your cheek instead, his thumb absentmindedly brushing over your cheekbone.

“I–I thought you were dead,” you choke out, tears stinging your eyes as you find the perfect pace, hands resting on his pecs. The pressure in your core builds, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge.

“You fucking asshole, I thought you were dead!” Your voice cracks as the hurt and anger that have been festering inside you pour out, mingling with the unbearable pleasure he’s giving you.

“I’m not dead, baby. I’m right here.” His voice is softer now, tinged with an edge of remorse. He accentuates his words with a powerful thrust of his hips, driving deep inside you. The sensation forces a moan from your lips, your anger momentarily drowned out.

The tears you’ve been holding back finally spill over, trailing down your cheeks as you ride him harder, your body seeking solace in the physical connection. You lean forward, your forehead resting against his, your breaths mingling, your eyes closed.

“I hate you,” you whisper. “I fucking hate you, Marc.”

His response is immediate, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force as he drives into you with renewed vigor. “I know, baby,” he pants. “I know you do.”

His words, combined with the relentless rhythm of his thrusts, push you closer to the brink. You hold onto his broad shoulders as your walls tightens around his cock, the muscles in your legs aching. The rush you’re experiencing is intoxicating, the line between pleasure and pain, love and hate blurring until you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.

As the pressure builds to an unbearable peak, you cling to him, your body trembling. “I need you,” you whine, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Please, I need you.”

“I’ve got you, baby,” he murmurs, his grip on you tightening. “I’ve got you.”

The words are a promise, a plea, and as your orgasm crashes over you, you feel a moment of clarity. Despite everything, despite the pain and the anger, he’s here. He’s with you.

You collapse against him, your body trembling with aftershocks, your breath coming in shallow gasps as tears stream down your cheeks. Marc wraps his strong arms around you, holding you tight as he chases his own release, his hips moving with relentless intensity. His breath is hot against your ear, his voice both a comfort and a torment.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he pants, too far gone to stop himself.

You’re lost in the moment, too out of it to hear him.

“Tell me,” he urges again, needing to hear you say it.

When you still don’t respond and he feels he can’t hold back any longer, he pulls your head back by the nape of your neck.

You look like you’re somewhere else entirely, flying high, eyes glassy.

“Hey,” he says sharply, slowing his thrusts down as much as he can physically stand it, searching your face until your gaze meets his.

“Huh?”

“Tell me you’re mine,” he repeats through gritted teeth, brow furrowed. “Please.”

His eyes are warm and you see him—the Marc who shared his favorite childhood recipe with you, the Marc who reassured you after your boss was an asshole to you, the Marc who made you laugh until your sides ached.

“I–I’m yours,” you whisper, the realization that it’s the truth breaking something inside you. “I’ve always been yours.”

Your words are like balm for his wounded soul, and he feels like he can finally let go. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours, Marc. I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours.”

“Fuck,” he groans, his thrusts becoming sloppy. He’s close. “I could–I could never stay away from you. Never.”

The confession slips out, raw and unfiltered, and it’s like a dagger to your heart. You bite down on his shoulder, trying to silence the sob that threatens to escape as he fucks you with everything he has.

“Gonna come, baby,” he pants. “Where do you want me?”

You feel like your body doesn’t belong to you, your mind foggy. But you know exactly where you want him, where you need him.

“Inside.”

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t.

But he’s here to give you everything he can. And he does, spilling his warm cum deep inside of you, his cock pulsing, hips stuttering as he groans your name.

Not baby.

Not Sunshine.

Your name.

He wraps his arms around you, softly, almost reverently, feeling your bare, sweat-covered skin against his palms. He holds you close like this for a moment before rolling you both over so he’s on top of you again, his cock still buried inside, his body slumping against yours.

Feeling his weight on you is grounding, soothing, calming you like nothing else in the world ever can. You try to absorb the feeling of his heartbeat against yours, knowing this moment of closeness won’t last. Marc usually doesn’t hold you for long after he’s fucked you.

You inhale his scent, draw shapes on his back with your fingertips, scratch his scalp softly, nudge his shoulder with your nose, press little kisses on his skin. Each touch is a silent plea for him to surprise you, to stay with you for a little bit longer.

He relaxes on top of you, the deep tension he’s been feeling for so long slowly giving way to a sense of calm. It’s peaceful, his mind quiet for once.

How he wishes he could stay like this forever; feeling your heartbeat, your soft touch, holding you close as you fall asleep, nose brushing the nape of your neck, a protective arm draped over you, keeping you safe.

He’s convincing himself to stay. He can feel it.

Just this once.

To put a smile on your pretty face.

To show you he cares.

It means so much to you, and how could he–

“I love you, Marc,” you whisper against his skin.

The words slip out before you can stop them, and you immediately regret saying them as you feel his muscles tense and he pulls out of you, leaving you painfully empty. His cum starts leaking out of you, pooling on the rumpled sheets beneath you.

Marc sits on the edge of the bed with his back turned to you and you sit up, leaning against the headboard, watching his profile with tearful eyes.

“Marc,” you say quietly, extending your hand to lightly touch his arm.

But it’s too late.

The spell is broken.

He gets up and fishes out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter from his jeans pocket, lighting one up, the orange glow casting shadows on the wall. He blows out a stream of smoke as he pulls up his jeans, sitting back on the bed, eyes distant as he looks out of the window.

You feel a pang of hurt, but you press on, desperately needing him to understand. “You–you don’t have to love me too,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “But please, you’ve been gone for so long and I–I only just got you back. Please, just stay with me this one time. Just this one time.”

He turns his head to look at you, his eyes flickering with something you can’t quite place. You shake your head slowly, resigned, then reach for his cigarette.

He gives it to you, watching as you put it between your swollen lips. You take a long drag, the smoke filling your lungs, and then exhale slowly, closing your eyes for a moment.

Marc eyes you curiously, recalling how you proudly told him you’d stopped smoking the last time he saw you.

Some things have changed, he supposes.

And some things…haven’t.

“Where were you?” you ask.

“Egypt,” he replies simply, caressing your leg.

“The whole time?”

“The whole time.”

“And the…business you had there, is it done?”

He hesitates for a moment before nodding, an imperceptible smile on his lips. “Yeah. You could say that.”

You take another drag from the cigarette before passing it back to him, the smoke a comforting distraction. “Will you stay in town now?”

Marc looks at you, and for a moment, hope flares in your chest. “Mhm. That’s the plan.”

You reach out and trace the remnants of what you can only imagine was a nasty bruise below his ribcage. “Aren’t you tired of this?”

He chuckles. “Of course I am.”

“Then why the fuck don’t you stop?”

He sighs. “It’s not that easy. There’s people who count on me, who need me.”

You avert your gaze, laughing mirthlessly, quickly wiping away a tear with trembling fingers. Marc watches you intently as he smokes, his hand resting on your thigh.

“I see,” you say softly as you meet his gaze, a sad smile on your lips. “Nothing’s changed.”

He doesn’t say anything in return.

“Why did you come back?”

I wanted to be as close to you as possible.

“My…job required me to. And I think it’ll stay that way for the foreseeable future.”

You nod. “Okay.”

He gently strokes your leg, unconsciously trying to soothe himself more than you. He’s about to say something, he doesn’t even know what, just something, when you can’t hold it in anymore.

“I get that I’m not a priority for you, Marc, I really do,” you whisper, your expression so full of sadness he can barely stand to look at you. “You made that abundantly clear when you disappeared without having the decency to say goodbye–”

“Sunshine…”

“–but I don’t understand why you won’t do this one thing for me.”

Marc’s brow furrows deeply as he watches your lip quiver with frustration.

“I-I promise I won’t ever ask you again, but please stay with me tonight. Please. It doesn’t even have to be the whole night. Just an hour, Marc, or–or half an–”

“Sunshine, no,” he says a bit sharper than intended, his own nerves frayed. He gets up and looks at the moon.

You just…don’t understand.

You don’t understand what keeps him up at night, what keeps him away from you, what he’s vowed to protect you from—and he can never tell you.

He knows he should have left you alone when he saw you outside the bar that night, should have walked away and spared you the pain.

But he couldn’t do it then, and he can’t do it now.

Because he’s a selfish asshole.

Because he loves you.

He flicks the cigarette butt out of the window, then bends down to put on his shirt, the act mechanical, his face set in a mask of determination. You haven’t noticed before, but now you notice how careful he is when bending and stretching.

He must be in pain.

“Marc,” you plead, your heart beating so fast you feel like it’s going to explode.

He puts on his shoes, the silence that’s stretching between you suffocating. He’s killing you. He’s killing you, and yet you’re more afraid of losing him forever.

This needs to stop. You need to stop.

“If you walk out of that door, I don’t ever wanna see you again.”

Marc halts his movements and your pleading eyes search his, the genuine desperation in them twisting a knife in his heart. For a moment, you think you see something in his eyes—a flicker of the man you need him to be—but then it’s gone.

He sighs heavily, then rounds the bed, leaning in to cup your cheek. “You don’t mean that,” he murmurs, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against your forehead. “I’ll see you around.”

“Please,” you whisper, but it’s too late.

When he reaches the front door, his cap in hand, you stand in the living room, naked and vulnerable. “I hate you, Marc Spector,” you say, your voice filled with all the pain and anger you feel.

He turns, his eyes softening for just a moment. “No, Sunshine. No, you don’t.”

And with that, he’s gone.

It takes a few seconds for your body to react to what just happened, and when it does, it’s overwhelming. Your stomach sinks, your chest tightens, and your vision blurs as you grapple with your ambivalent feelings.

Tears spill down your cheeks as you crumble, the exhaustion and heartbreak taking over.

Heading back to your bedroom, your eyes catch the roses your boyfriend gave you yesterday, a cruel reminder of the life you’ve been trying to build without Marc. All the work you put in, down the drain.

And for what? Why do you do this to yourself?

In a fit of anger and despair, you grab the flowers and throw them off your balcony. You watch as they scatter on the rain-wet street below, the cool night air wrapping around your naked body like a cloak. You stay for a moment, heart pounding, staring at the flowers as Marc’s cum runs down your thigh.

God, you’re a dumb idiot.

You turn off the TV as you head back inside, turn off your bedside lamp, the darkness a welcome solace. You go to the bathroom without turning the light on, clean up, put on a fresh pair of pajamas.

You do hate him.

You need to tell yourself that, for tonight at least.

Curled up in your bed, you clutch at the pillow where his scent still lingers, letting the darkness take you as the man who holds your heart is once again slipping through your fingers. The tears come again, silent and unending, each one a testament to the love you can’t seem to let go of, no matter how much it hurts.

Because for better or worse, Marc’s a part of you, and you can’t escape it.

Down on the street, Marc watches the scene unfold from the shadows, the flowers landing at his feet. He stands there, drenched in regret, his heart heavy. He wants to turn back, to hold you and tell you everything will be okay, but he knows he can’t.

Not with the life he leads.

Not until he’s finally free.

He walks to his car, parked on the opposite side of the street. Coming from the reflection of the driver’s window, the car illuminated by the street lamp above, he hears a familiar voice.

“You’re a cold bastard, Marc,” the man in the reflection says, his tone filled with quiet condemnation.

“Thanks, bud,” Marc sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You wanna explain to him that we’re gonna be late, then?” He raises an eyebrow, but Steven just shakes his head disapprovingly.

Marc scoffs, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Didn’t think so.”

He takes the silver lighter out of his pocket, lights a cigarette, and leans against the car door, looking up at your windows. He imagines your silhouette as you’re lying on your side, your soft skin, the gentle rise and fall of your chest. He imagines you’re dreaming of him, finding peace in your sleep.

He knows he’s dreaming himself, knows you’re tossing and turning, cursing him. And he deserves it. He knows he does.

“Tick-tock, Marc Spector,” comes the resonating voice of Khonshu, his towering figure perched atop a nearby rooftop, his skeletal bird skull gleaming in the moonlight.

Marc rolls his eyes, takes a last drag of his cigarette before putting it out with his shoe, and shoots the impatient god a glare that earns him a chuckle that echoes through the night.

He looks up at your windows one last time, his heart aching with a longing he can’t afford to indulge. Then, with a heavy sigh, he gets into his car and turns on the radio.

As he speeds down the road, the city lights blurring past, leaving you behind, he feels the crushing loneliness of his life.

It’s strange.

Feeling lonely despite never being, you know, alone.

Right on cue, he catches the intense gaze of a dark pair of eyes in the rearview mirror.

“What? You gonna tell me I’m a cold bastard, too?”

Jake looks back at him with a sly grin. “Nah. You don’t need me to tell you what you already know,” he scoffs. “But it’s a real shame, Marc. Leaving that poor girl to get fucked by boys who don’t know what they’re doing, just ‘cause you don’t have the balls to–”

“And that’s enough of you,” Marc mutters, turning up the volume of the radio, refocusing on the way ahead.

⚡ Kavinsky’s Odd Look is playing in Marc’s car as he’s driving through the night, thinking of you. ⚡ Marc’s Ferrari Testarossa – the sexiest car there is. ⚡ I adore the synthwave aesthetic if you can’t tell lol.

Moon Knight Masterlist | AO3

#fic: nightcall #marc spector #marc spector x f!reader #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector smut #marc spector angst #moon knight #moon knight x f!reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight x you #moon knight smut #oscar isaac characters #marc spector fanfiction #moon knight fanfic #oscar isaac fic

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beautifulmadnesss · 1 month ago

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"Just Say You Won't Let Go" Garrick x Riorson!Reader

Summary: Xaden's younger sister finally plucks up the courage and kisses his best friend, who she has always loved, but it goes horribly wrong when he pushes her away. Garrick is completely caught off guard and has no idea how to react when the girl he isn't supposed to love kisses him without warning. ANGST

"Again." He demanded despite the fact that we had been sparring for well over an hour at this point and he had pinned me every time.

"Garrick, I think we've trained enough, at this point when someone does try to kill me, I'm going to be too exhausted to do anything but pass out." I tried to reason with my trainer who had been assigned to me by my older brother.

"Again." He repeated, pushing himself up and dragging me with him. I stumbled slightly as I tried to get my legs under me, falling forward against his chest. I immediately felt the butterflies that I always felt whenever we got a little too close. Garrick has been there my entire life, mostly just because he was Xaden's best friend, but also because he cared about me or at least I hoped he did. He was usually the first to come looking for me when the boys were being a little too mean or rough. When our parents were killed, Xaden had the entire world on his shoulders all of a sudden, so when I couldn't bring my fears about the future to him, I went to Garrick. He held me and promised that no matter where we ended up, he would take care of me. Where Xaden and I always struggled with fiery tempers, Garrick was always the voice of reason, not quiet and optimistic like Bodhi, but reasonable and rational. I can't remember a time before I loved him, but I was always too scared to tell him. Maybe it was the newfound confidence since I'd joined the Riders quadrant or maybe it was the fear that I wasn't going to make it, but for a moment I was just brave enough to reach forward on my tip toes and kiss him.

He pushed me back almost immediately, "what are you doing?" It wasn't an accusation, just confusion, but the words hit me harder than any other hit he landed tonight.

My throat felt so tight that I couldn't force any words out. I just ran. My legs were already on fire, but I pushed through the pain and ran like it would dispel the earth shattering pain in my chest. White hot tears slid down my cheeks as I raced through the courtyard and up the stone steps. It was late enough that no one was out and I was grateful that I didn't give anyone another reason to target me. The tower was empty when I arrived, so I allowed myself to fall to the floor and succumb to my broken heart.

I ruined everything. Of course he didn't like me back. I was so stupid to think that there was a chance he would see me like that. Fuck. Since he was a Second Year, I could avoid him in class and in the halls, but there would be no avoiding him during our training sessions. That is unless I told Xaden and other than reliving what just happened, there is nothing I would want to do less. All I could hope is that he just would pretend like it never happened. Or maybe I could try to avoid him.

I was honestly planning to stay up here all night. No one really came up here, so it was pretty quiet, until I heard footsteps ascending the stairs. Expecting another one of the never ending attacks, I armed myself with one of my daggers and faced the opening at the top of the stairs.

"You look like shit."

"Not a smart thing to say to someone holding a weapon." I shot back at my cousin, but sheathed the dagger and returned to my spot on the stone wall.

"Garrick said I should come check on you, he thought you'd be up here." Well that's even more humiliating.

"I'm fine."

"Clearly." He sighed and took off his jacket, placing it around my shoulders. I didn't realize how cold I was until I felt the warmth cover my bare shoulders as I hadn't exactly stopped on my way out for shoes or my jacket. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked and didn't push when I simply shook my head in response. "When you're ready you can come stay in my room if you want. Can't have you dying because you're not sleeping."

"I've had enough humiliation today, I'll go to my own room to sleep." I wasn't planning on it, but I knew without the lie, he wasn't going to leave me alone.

"Good, I'll walk you over and then check with Liam to make sure you actually stay there." I glared at him, but he was used to it by now.

We sat in silence for a while until I eventually stood to go to the barracks, feeling totally exhausted. True to his word, he walked with me the entire way and I knew he would be asking Liam in the morning so I let myself collapse in my bed. I didn't even bother changing, just stored my daggers close at hand and let sleep take over.

Garrick's POV

"We may be friends, but if I ever see her crying again because of you, I will kick your ass." Bodhi's threat was so unlike him, but I didn't doubt he meant it.

"I didn't mean to. She just kissed me out of nowhere and I panicked and then she left before I could say anything." The thought of her crying because of me made my stomach turn.

"Well then, tell her that."

"I've been trying, but she's been avoiding me all day. I'll tell her during our training session this afternoon." I'd been rehearsing in my head what I would say to her, but none of it seemed right. I still wasn't really sure what I felt, but I did want to tell her that I was just caught off guard and I never meant to hurt her. I really cared about her.

Unfortunately it wasn't that easy. She was well over half an hour late to our training session and despite the fact that I had seen her just a couple hours ago at dinner I was terrified something happened to her. She had been attacked several times at the start of the year just for being the daughter of Fen Riorson, but it only got worse after Threshing. The unbounded cadets were jealous of her dragon and believed she was unworthy.

I knocked on her door several times, only becoming more frantic when she didn't answer. It was warded so I knew I couldn't get in unless she opened it. Xaden had warded it so himself and Bodhi could get in, but not me. Maybe he knew about her crush on me.

"I don't want to talk to you." She snapped as soon as she ripped the door open. I thought Bodhi said she was crying, now she just sounded pissed, like it was my fault she decided to completely change everything about our relationship out of nowhere.

"Fine, but you're late for training. Let's go." Fuck, that wasn't what I was supposed to say. I was supposed to be apologizing.

I saw the anger crack for a moment and her eyes watered slightly, but she clenched her jaw and steeled her face before shoving past me into the hall. Great. I came to apologize and now I've made it even worse. After shutting her door for her, I followed after her into the training room.

We didn't talk during warm ups outside of me making corrections to her form as she practiced combinations on one of the training dummies. We still didn't talk while doing wind sprints or even after when we moved on to leg work. By the time we started sparring the silence was deafening. She was pushing hard, even for her.

"Okay, that's enough for tonight." I said after she took a particularly hard hit to the side.

"No." She shot back instantly. "Again." She demanded, despite being clearly worn down.

So, we went again and when she got fed up with me pulling punches she scoffed and moved back to the training dummy. Her pace was unrelenting and there was no stopping her, so I just sat down on the mat trying to figure out what the hell I was supposed to say to her.

She was Xaden's sister. I wasn't allowed to think about her like that. Then the apostasy happened and we suddenly weren't just kids anymore, we were soldiers in a war or at least I was, she was a Lady being prepared to one day be a Duchess. She was promised to a man who would be fitting of that title, until she wasn't. Even then, I couldn't let myself look at how beautiful she was, because I had to hold her as we were suddenly orphans and I was making her promises I wasn't sure I could keep. Then she was gone and I didn't see her until five years later. She was breathtakingly beautiful and I wanted so desperately to tell her, but I couldn't because Xaden made me promise to train her and protect her. He didn't need to ask me to do that, I would've done it anyways, but he trusted me to look after her, to make sure no one hurt her. Yet, here I was, now the one hurting her.

I heard her sniffle slightly between hard smacks to the dummy. When I looked over, I saw blood smeared across the front. Her knuckles had split and she hadn't slowed down at all.

"Okay, you're done." I said, moving to stand, but she had whirled around to face me before I was even on my feet.

"If you didn't like me, why do you always take care of me? I know I sound pathetic right now, but I don't care. I need you to tell me. Do you only pretend to like me because of Xaden? Have I just been his annoying little sister this whole time?" She seemed to regain her composure as she stood straighter and wiped her tears angrily. "Nevermind, you're right, we should just pretend this didn't happen. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-" I cut her off. Her hair blew backwards in a shockwave from how fast I had crossed the room. I wove my fingers through the smooth dark waves and held the back of her head as I bent down and kissed her. I still didn't know what to tell her, but I had to make sure she knew that none of that was true. Despite the increasing fear I had that something would happen to her if I let myself act on the feelings I've fought so hard to keep buried, I kissed her like none of it mattered. We could figure out the rest, but right now all I could think about was how good it felt to finally hold her.

The moment shattered when she shoved me with such an unexpected force I stumbled backwards.

"What the fuck, Garrick?" She screamed. "Do you know how I felt when you pushed me away after I finally decided to kiss you? I've been in love with my entire life. As stupid as it seems I've dreamed about kissing you since we were kids, but I always thought you would never like me like that. Still, I risked it and then you broke my heart. Everything I was afraid of happened in the moment when you pushed me away. You don't get to just kiss me like you didn't reject me yesterday. So fuck you." She tried to push past me again, but this time I caught her wrist. I wasn't letting her leave broken hearted again.

"I'm sorry. You're right, that isn't fair. Can I explain?" I felt so out of my element, looking into her dark eyes, begging for her to give me a chance that I didn't deserve. She held out her bloody hands without a word. "Okay, you sit, I'll get the bandages."

I was welcome for a moment to gather my thoughts. I didn't want to mess this up again. I sat down in front of her with our legs touching, I took her hands in mine and set to cleaning them. "I think you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen." I whispered, still only looking at her hands. I now felt even worse about my reaction to the kiss yesterday, because I've always trusted her, always felt safe with her and yet this vulnerability was terrifying. "You're kind and fiercely loving. You're so brave and strong. I know everyone tells you that you're all the same things Xaden is, but it's different with you. He's bigger and way more brooding." She laughed softly making my heart skip a beat. "But you're trusting and loyal without question to anyone who deserves it. It's so easy for you to know right and wrong, even when we've always had to live in the grey. You've lost so much and been betrayed so many times. I know you don't really want to talk about what happened in your foster home, but I know that despite all of that, you still trust people. I wish I could love people and trust you like you do. I've been so scared of losing you or hurting you that I didn't ever let myself consider what a life with you would be like until after you kissed me. Hell, I didn't even consider much of a future at all and I still don't really know what will happen, but I know that I want you with me for whatever it is. I'd also really like to kiss you again, but I don't want you to hit me, so I guess I'll ask this time." I chanced a glance up to her face, relieved to find that she was smiling.

"Next time you want to tell me something, don't send Bodhi to check on me. You're a thick-headed idiot, but I love you." She leaned forward and as she maneuvered so that she was sitting in my lap I completely forgot how to function. "You can kiss me now."

And I did. Pushing away any thoughts or feelings other than the complete and total bliss of losing myself in her.

Part 2

#imagine #fourth wing #fourth wing imagine #garrick tavis x reader #fourth wing x reader #garrick tavis #empyrean imagine #the empyrean #riorson!reader #garrick x reader

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